Chapter Text
Ugliness – Chapter One
“Did I ever tell you how much sports fucking suck?” Bucky moaned as he pulled off his gym t-shirt. Steve, fully dressed and sitting to his right with his nose in a book simply nodded. He'd been excused another gym class because of his asthma and had spent the class sitting on the sidelines studying.
“It's the one time I'm glad of my asthma.” He eventually replied, closing his text book with a snap. Bucky stripped off his shorts and grinned.
“Gotta take the good with the bad huh buddy?” He teased.
“Are you comin' round to mine tonight?” Steve stood up and slung his book bag over his shoulder. “Mom's makin' hamburgers.”
“Can't” Bucky shook his head and wrapped a towel around his waist. “Gonna grab a shower here then I gotta head back and get started on that damn English assignment” He pulled a face. “It's due tomorrow”
Steve nodded again. He'd completed the assignment last week and had listened to Bucky's endless 'I'll get round to it tomorrow Stevie' promises ever since. Bucky raised and eyebrow at his friend.
“I didn't even ask.”
“You didn't hafta” Steve smirked. “You know the answer would be no anyway. Mr Stan can spot it a mile off when you've copied my work.” He checked his watch. “Hey do you mind if I get goin'? I promised Peggy that I'd meet her outside the library and you know what she gets like when I'm late”
“Sure, get goin'” Bucky nodded towards the door. “I'll catch ya later”
Steve left the changing rooms. Bucky cursed mentally, suddenly remembering that he'd meant to ask his best friend something. He yanked the changing room door open and spotted Steve already halfway down the corridor.
“Stevie!” Bucky yelled, not really wanting to walk down the corridor in just a towel. “Don't forget to email me that stuff tonight!”
“Don't shout in the corridor” Said a sudden voice from behind him. Bucky turned to see their gym teacher, Mr Pierce, standing by the row of coat hooks looking stern. Pierce had only been teaching for a few months but he was already the most unpopular teacher amongst the students. Even those he didn't teach had heard of him. He cut an imposing figure as it was in his starch white gym clothes but became even more intimidating when he dressed in sharp business suits to teach his other subject, Business Studies.
“Sorry Sir.” Bucky replied, feeling a little embarrassed at the fact he was standing in front of the fiercest teacher in the school in little more than a towel.
“I think a little chat is in order” Pierce said, beckoning Bucky back into the changing rooms with a curl of his finger. If sharks could talk, Bucky thought, they'd probably sound exactly like Alexander Pierce right before they savaged their prey. The changing room door slammed behind him and Bucky became all too aware that all the other students had left and that only he and Pierce remained in the room.
“You don't appear to respect authority much do you?” Pierce mused as he got to his feet. Even the man's gym shoes were pristinely white. “What's your name?”
“Bucky Barnes Sir” Bucky replied, suddenly feeling nervous. What was it with this guy? He exuded some sort of 'leave me the hell alone' creepiness that would usually have him running a mile.
“I asked for you name Barnes. Not a diminutive.” Pierce said pompously.
As much as he hated English class, Bucky was no idiot. He knew what the teacher was getting at.
“James Sir.”
“It would seem that you don't like me very much James Barnes.” Pierce moved a little closer, closing in the space between them.
“Um...well...I guess I don't know you very well Sir. You only take me for gym class.” Bucky answered, wondering what the hell this guy was getting at. He'd never had a 'little chat' with a teacher like this before. Usually they just told you to straighten up and fly right, wanted an apology and then you were off on your merry way.
“Turn around James.” Pierce asked. Bucky was reminded of the shark again, the shark who had just caught the smell of a drop of blood.
“Sir?” Bucky's heart was beginning to pound in his chest. Was this guy going to hit him? He'd heard tales from his father about corporal punishment in schools but surely that kind of thing was totally illegal now? He briefly wondered how much trouble he would get in if he were to fight back should he be hit .
“It would be prudent to do as you are asked James.” Pierce said smoothly.
So Bucky did, feeling nausea bubble up in his stomach. Nothing about this situation was feeling right. He wanted to run or shout for help but he was rooted to the spot, silenced by the fear that was over-taking him at an alarming rate.
“You're so different to the other students James. You're special.” Bucky could feel breath on the back of his neck. “They are uncouth animals whilst you...you always smell so clean...now, remove your towel”
“N-no.” Bucky forced the word out. What the hell was happening? His panicked brain started to shut down, refusing to help him figure a way out of this situation. His eyes fixed on the slightly grimy brown floor tiles. He was suddenly pulled forward and pushed towards the small shower area. His hip collided with the little tiled wall that separated the shower area from the coat hooks. His towel seemed to disappear from around his waist, exposing him to the sudden cold of the changing room. He wanted to fight but his body, his brain, was frozen like a startled fawn. A hand wrapped around his mouth, fingers digging into his cheek bone painfully as they squeezed.
“The other students are gone James. We're here all alone. Nobody to hear us.”
He was forced to his hands and knees. The tiles felt cool and wet beneath his palms. His head “Just you and me James.”
~*~
He didn't know how much time had passed. He'd lost all concept of it. How long had he been knelt here, in the shower area, un-moving? Pierce was nowhere to be seen. He had no idea when the man had gone. Perhaps it was hours ago. Perhaps it was minutes.
Bucky realised he was shivering. He was still completely naked. His mind refused to co-operate and piece together exactly what had happened. He started to move, pain jolted through his body and he was aware of something wet around his knees. He looked down to see the familiar brown tiles spotted with blood. Every little movement he made invited pain in fresh waves but he had to ignore it. He needed to move. He needed to clean up. Remove the evidence. Get out. If he did that then perhaps he could clean the entire afternoon from his mind. Perhaps it would wipe away as easily as the tiles would.
So he started the shower and watched as the water washed the tiles clean. It splashed his naked body but it didn't feel right. Nothing did. Everything was numb, dull, his movements and his mind mechanical processes. Once the evidence was removed, he moved back to the coat hooks and began to dress. He felt almost as though he was in a trance, a dream-like state that he could possibly awaken from. He hoped that he would wake up soon. A dazed glance at the clock told him that a whole two hours had passed since Steve had disappeared to meet Peggy.
Steve had left him.
He knew what he had to do. He had to pretend that those two hours hadn't existed. That it was a part of his life that had simply been forgotten like a regular day. He stepped out of the changing rooms and began to make his way home. All the familiar sights on his journey seemed differently somehow. Twisted. Nightmarish.
He felt so alone.
~*~
His dad wasn't there when Bucky arrived home. It wasn't an unusual occurrence. Ever since Bucky's mother had died five years ago, George Barnes worked harder than ever. Longer hours at the office to the point that sometimes Bucky felt he'd lost both of his parents. He dropped his school bag by the front door and made a beeline for the bathroom. That would be his first shower of the night. Four more showers followed that one. Blood was found in his underpants so they were tucked away at the bottom of his closet where he knew his father would never find them. He clambered into his bed hoping that any further bleeding wouldn't be evident on his dark sheets and that sleep would overwhelm him.
Time escaped him again but it was dark by the time he heard the front door open and the sounds of his father taking off his shoes and putting his keys onto the telephone table in the hall like he always did. There was movement outside his bedroom door. Then it opened.
“Bucky?”
Bucky wished he was asleep. Wished he didn't have to do this now or ever. But he'd been awake the whole time, his eyes blank and glazed as he'd stared up at his ceiling.
“You're in bed early son.” his father remarked. “Are you feeling ok?”
“No.” Bucky replied before he could stop himself.
“Where does it hurt?” George approached the bed and Bucky quickly turned around, not wanting his back to be exposed, even to someone so familiar.
“Everywhere.” Bucky answered quietly. A hand came down on his forehead, gentle and loving. His father let out a hum.
“You do feel a little warm son...” His hand moved upwards. “Your hair's wet! You shouldn't go to bed with wet hair, it's not good.” He sighed and grabbed a nearby towel from the carpet. “Come on, get up and give it a quick dry. Do you need any painkillers?”
“No.” Bucky couldn't summon the power to argue with his father as he pulled back the covers and swung his legs out of bed. A jolt of pain hit as he sat up but he managed to mask it quickly, taking the towel from his father and beginning to scrub at his hair. When he was done, he dropped the towel on the carpet and laid down. His father pulled the sheets back over him, pretty much tucking him in.
“You seem quiet, do you want me to stay with you?”
Bucky wanted nothing more in the world but he couldn't seem to vocalise it. He knew it would hurt tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. Always. This wasn't some cold he was going to get over. This would be with him forever. He felt like he was drowning.
“Well then I'll leave you to sleep” George moved away from the bed and turned off the light. He paused at the door. “Give me a shout if you need anything. Night son.”
Later that night, long after he'd retired to bed, George thought that he could hear the bathroom door being opened and the shower being used.
~*~
The weekend came. The weekend went. Bucky spent most of it holed up in his room, his homework unfinished, any food he was brought was left untouched. He knew that his father was worried and his phone told him that he'd missed a few calls and texts from Steve but he couldn't bring himself to answer them.
~*~
He woke up. He showered. He got dressed. He had to shower again. He packed his school bag and, because of the extra shower, had to leave in a rush. Today was a school day. Was it a gym day? He couldn't remember. He floated to school and sat in his lessons. His moves and his mind robotic.
“Hey Buck, you listenin'?” Steve prodded Bucky with his ruler as they sat together in, math was it? It didn't really matter. Bucky turned to look at his friend, unaware that the blonde had been speaking to him for the past few minutes.
“I asked if you got your English assignment done.” Steve said looking concerned. They'd been friends so long, Steve instantly knew when something wasn't right with him. He found himself not caring which, he realised, seemed to be the case with everything. What did anything matter when it was all so pointless? When he was so tainted? Nothing would ever be the same again...
He suddenly stood up and bolted for the door, deaf to the teacher's demands of wanting to know what was going on. He ran to the nearest toilet and slammed into it, locking the door behind him. He bent over the bowl feeling the sudden urge to vomit. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually eaten so all he managed was some dry heaving. When he felt like he was done, he moved shakily to wash his hands anyway because he felt so fucking filthy all the time. He looked at the dead eyed reflection of the boy in the mirror. He didn't recognise what he saw.
Something was seriously wrong with him.
~*~
Sarah Rogers abandoned the newspaper crossword to answering the ringing phone. She expected it to be Bucky. She knew there was something going on between the two boys. She hadn't seen her son's best friend for the entire weekend and she couldn't remember that last time that had happened. Steve had been his usual stubborn self and refused to talk about it although Mother's Intution gave her the feeling that he didn't know what was going on either. That made it all the more troubling.
As it happened, it wasn't Bucky. It was George Barnes.
“Sarah?”
“George.” Sarah took the phone to the kitchen table and sat back down. “How are you? It's been a while since we talked.”
“Yeah.” George replied uneasily. “I'm-I'm worried about Bucky.” He admitted. He sounded horribly uncomfortable, blurting out the words clumsily.
“What's wrong?” She asked, her brows knitting together. The last time she and George had discussed Bucky like this, it had been shortly after Winifred Barnes' death and George had felt that Bucky would benefit from Sarah talking to him about it. As George began to explain what had been going on over the weekend and how his son had been behaving, she listened with concern. She'd hoped that the fuss between Steve and Bucky had simply been the result of some petty argument they would resolve themselves. This however, seemed a lot more serious.
“Perhaps he's just tired?” She offered, hoping that a simple explanation would be the best.
“It's not that.” George sighed heavily. Sarah could imagine him rubbing the back of his neck in that agitated way she'd seen all those years ago. “He's so pale now and so unlike himself. You know Bucky, you can't usually shut him up. He comes home from school and goes straight to his bedroom. He doesn't even seem to be hanging around with Steve much.”
“No, that's true.” Sarah agreed. She had her son currently mooning around the house as if totally bereft to prove it. “Well...perhaps you should try talking to him?” She suggested.
“That's uh...that's why I called actually.” George admitted. “I was hoping that you could. You know...I'm not good at this sort of thing...it was always Winnie's department.” He said her name quietly, reverently and Sarah just wanted to reach out and hug him.
“Well perhaps I could pick the boys up from school tomorrow? I'm working the early shift at the hospital. I'll bring them here and send Steve off on some errand and see if I can get Bucky to talk. How about that?”
“That would be great Sarah.” She heard George blow a sigh of relief. “Thank you so much.”
~*~
George was sitting silently at the kitchen table, a half drank cup of coffee beside him. It was late and he should've gone to bed at least an hour ago. Despite his phone call with Sarah Rogers, he wasn't feeling much better. He felt like a failure. Unable to talk to his own child to get to the bottom of whatever was troubling him. Winnie would be ashamed...
In the midst of the silence he heard the click of a door and seconds later, his son's shadow appeared in the doorway. Bucky's tired eyes looked at his father for a moment before quickly looking away as he entered the small kitchen. George watched him as Bucky opened the fridge and grabbed the carton of milk. He moved like a ghost as he got himself a glass and started to pour, all the while silent. He looked so pale and haunted. George swore he felt his heart break. He inwardly cursed his own awkwardness and inability to simply start a serious conversation about his son's emotions.
When he was done pouring the glass, Bucky just stared at it as though it contained some sort of answer he was looking for. George frowned. It was awful to see his son acting so different to his usual self. He couldn't stand in any more.
“I know something's up.” He blurted out, a lot more bluntly than he intended. Bucky continued to stare at the glass of milk as if he hadn't heard a single word. “I know I'm shit at this kind of stuff...but I'm your Dad Bucky...I'm here for you son, always.”
Bucky picked up the glass. George could see that his son's hand was trembling.
“It was always your mo- well, just...say something to me Bucky” George continued. “Talk to me. I want to know why you're not happy because you're clearly not. Are you feeling ill?”
Bucky shook his head, eyes cast down. His knuckles were turning white around glass. George frowned.
“So you're not ill. Ok. Then what is it?”
Eyes still cast down. No response.
“Bucky?”
Slowly, mechanically, Bucky put the milk back into the fridge. He picked up the glass again and, as if he were watching in slow motion, George saw it fall to the kitchen floor. It shattered into pieces as it hit the tile. Milk splashed everywhere. Bucky's hands rushed to his own face.
He screamed and burst into sobs. Horrible, loud sobs that George had never heard his son make before.
Within a nanosecond of the noise starting, George was up and on his feet, his arms wrapping around his son and lifting him away from the glass as though he were a little boy again and not a teenager almost as tall as he was. He felt his son cling to him tightly as he sobbed. George half walked, half carried Bucky to his bedroom and helped him sit down on the bed. Tears were coursing down the boy's cheeks and he was trembling violently. He looked so weak and helpless that George had trouble holding back his own tears. He knelt down in front of the crying boy and took hold of his shaking hands. Bucky shook his head and tried to pull away but George held firm. Something was wrong and he was sure as hell going to get to the bottom of it. Screw the awkwardness, it had to end now. Whatever it was certainly went deeper than spilt milk. Bucky was normally such a calm and collected person. He'd never seen his son like this before, not even after Winifred passed away.
“Bucky...baby, please. I know I'm shit at this, we both know that but you need to tell me what's wrong...what's going on?”
Bucky shook his head again, his whole body heaving with the sobs. It was like a dam inside of him had burst spilling out all of his ugliness. How could he even begin to put it into words? He looked at his father through blurry, sore eyes and felt even worse. His father looked exhausted but also scared shitless. He willed himself to stop crying, clutching onto the lifeline of his father's hands, staring at the silver wedding band that he still wore and would never take off.
“D-d-dad...” Bucky hiccuped from the effort of trying to control his sobs. His father's thumbs gently started to stroke the backs of his hands in an effort to calm him. “I-I can't-tell you..”
“You can Bucky.” George urged. “You can tell me. I need to know why you're hurting this bad Baby. Whatever this is, you can I tell me. I promise.”
“I-I-really-c-can't.” Fresh tears welled up and slid down his cheeks. He felt like he was going to be sick. He could feel it. The ugliness. It was rising up inside of him like slime, stoppering his throat and sticking to his tongue, robbing him of his words.
“Bucky, listen, I've only done two things right in the whole of my life. One of them was marrying your mother and the other one was having you. I've failed you so much but I want you to be happy. I want to take away whatever this pain is that you're keeping inside. You're my good thing Bucky and I want to help you.” George pleaded with desperation.
But Bucky was devoid of words. He couldn't offer the ones that his father was begging for. The ugliness overwhelmed him and all he could do was stare at those hands that were so familiar to him and feel like another piece of him was breaking away. It terrified him. He jumped when he heard his father sigh.
“Please James. Just tell somebody. It doesn't have to be me. Tell Steve or Sarah...find somebody to talk to Baby.”
Time was lost to Bucky once more as the tears slowly subsided and he was laid down. His father stayed with him, his face gentle in the soft light of the bedside lamp. He sat by the bed, his hand slowly carding through Bucky's hair as the tears dried on his face.
“Go to sleep Son.” George said eventually. “I'm gonna be right next door if you need anything Ok?”
When he was satisfied that his son was settled down, George quietly slipped from the room making sure to leave the door ajar so he could hear should anything happen. He didn't think he would be getting much sleep. He went into his own bedroom anyway and sat down wearily on the bed without removing his clothes. He stared into space for a moment before slowly sinking his head into his hands.
~*~
The bell trilled to mark the end of the school day. The classroom became a flurry of activity as students hurried to pack their backpacks and rush off to enjoy those sweet after school hours before the next school dayw. Steve felt like he was watching Bucky in slow motion. His best friend was usually right at the front when it came to leaving for the day but he'd barely seemed to notice the bell. That wasn't the only thing that was different about Bucky. He was too quiet, subdued, all the things that were so un-Bucky that Steve couldn't help but worry. Any attempts at conversation regarding the subject were either ignored, brushed off or quickly changed to something inane. That was when Bucky wasn't drifting off into his own world which he seemed to be constantly doing nowadays. Steve frowned. It was like his best friend had been replaced by some weird alien replicant. That, or Steve really needed to stop reading those old horror comics right before bed.
“James Barnes, stay behind.” Mr Banner announced from the front of the room, shaking his head as students shoved each other aside to get out of the door. Bucky suddenly shot Steve a desperate look. It was the most animated that Steve had seen him all day.
“Wait for me Steve. Don't leave without me.” He begged, looking straight into Steve's eyes. He looked frantic.
“Sure Buck, Mom's pickin' us up anyway remember?” Steve knew Bucky wouldn't remember. He could barely construct a sentence these days, let alone remember a conversation. It made Steve sick to think about it.
“You'll stay?” Bucky grabbed Steve's wrist.
“I said so didn't I?” Steve raised an eyebrow. “You're hurtin' me Buck!” He released his arm from Bucky's desperate death grip.
“You can wait outside Steve.” Mr Banner nodded towards the door. With one last concerned look in Bucky's direction and a whispered reassurance that he'd be literally just outside the door, Steve left the room. Mr Banner turned his attention back to Bucky who could feel himself starting to shake. Mr Banner was probably the most docile, laid back teacher in the school but Bucky's heart started to race. When Mr Banner gestured to the chair in front of his desk, Bucky moved towards it on jelly-like legs.
“First things first James, you're not in any trouble so please, try to relax. This is totally informal.” Mr Banner said calmly. “I've noticed that recently you seem to be having some trouble in my classes. You're not completing work assignments and it was obvious, even to me, that you weren't concentrating today. Now I know math isn't exactly something to get excited about but still, I do expect some participation in my class. Is the work too hard for you?”
“N-no Sir.” Bucky replied, swallowing hard. Why couldn't he stop shaking? This was Mr Banner. He was being ridiculous.
“I've heard similar things from some of the other teachers.” Mr Banner continued. He smiled wryly. “It may come as a surprise but teachers do talk to each other. What may shock you even more is that some of us actually care about the students we teach. That being said, what's going on James? Is it a problem at home?”
Bucky could do nothing but shake his head. Mr Banner however, wasn't going to be deterred that easily.
“Perhaps it's a school problem?” He offered only to be met by absolute silence. Not even a nod. Bucky shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Maybe it's a problem I can help you with?”
Bucky shook his head once more. The ugliness was stirring up again just like it had done last night. He willed himself to not start crying.
“You and Steve are joined at the hip. Why not tell him what's going on? You need to talk to somebody James as it's obvious that something is bothering you. I need you concentrating in my classes, in all of your classes.” Mr Banner sighed, obviously accepting defeat. He slid a piece of paper across the desk. “Here's your latest assignment. I expect it to be handed in on time ok? Now...go catch up with Steve and remember that my door is always open to you if you ever need to talk.”
Bucky nodded and stood up, grateful that he could get away. He grabbed his backpack and practically ran to the door and left the room without looking back at Mr Banner.
Steve was nowhere to be seen. A quick glance down the corridor and it was empty. He was glad that there were no other students in sight. He wanted to be alone, be away from the school and in the safety of his own home. Although, he knew deep down, that even there he wasn't safe from whatever this thing was inside of him. It was hurting, throbbing with an insistence that was getting all the more harder to ignore. He wanted to tell someone. He wanted to tell his father but-
And then, he froze.
Someone turned into the corridor. Pierce. The man who had changed his whole world. The man who had caused him pain physically and mentally. The originator of this horrible ugliness that seemed to be taking over his body at an alarming rate. Fear, revulsion and sheer terror grasped him all at once, pulling his mind this way and that. He let out an involuntary noise akin to a whimper. Pierce was closer now, that disgusting shark like grin spreading across his face.
“James Barnes. How wonderful to see you.”
Bucky wondered if he'd actually stopped breathing. No part of his body seemed to be working. He was rooted to the spot. He wanted to scream but he couldn't. His voice had disappeared, failing him again.
“I've missed you James Barnes.” Pierce said as pleasantly as if they were chatting about the weather. “I've missed you in my changing rooms. Yes...you have a very special presence.” He leant forward slightly and inhaled. “Mmm, very special indeed. And tomorrow is gym class is it not?” He smirked. “I shall be looking forward to seeing you tomorrow then.” He moved away with an almost fluid like motion, his hand coming into contact with Bucky's hip. His fingers pressed in, knowing that the bruises that he had caused would still be there. And then, like a ghost, he was gone.
Bucky ran.
And collided straight into Steve.
“Buck?”
“Get off me Steve!” Bucky yelled, shoving Steve away so hard that he nearly toppled over. Steve could see the wildness in Bucky's eyes. It looked like pure, raw pain. Bucky's face was frantic, his breathing erratic and he was struggling as if invisible hands were touching him.
“Buck, what's wrong with you? What's happened?”
“Go away Steve! Leave me the fuck alone!” Bucky screamed. It echoed down the empty corridor. Luckily there were no teachers around.
“B-”
“No!” Bucky sobbed, covering his face with his hands. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to reach deep inside of him and pull out the ugliness that was clawing away at his insides. He sank to the floor, unable to support his own weight any more.
“Buck...” Steve had crossed over from worried to utterly terrified. He'd never seen Bucky behave this way before, not even after his mother died. Every instinct within him told him to reach out and pull his best friend into a hug but touching him seemed to make things worse. He looked around helplessly. Eventually, slowly and carefully as though he was approaching a wounded animal, Steve wrapped his hands around Bucky's wrists and pulled his hands away from his face. What he saw shook him to his very core. Bucky's eyes were glazed over and dead-looking. The mischievous light that usually blazed in his best friend's eyes seemed to have been totally extinguished. Bucky looked disturbed. “Bucky please...tell me what's goin' on here.” He asked gently. He knelt down next to him, ignoring the fact they were in the middle of the school corridor. “I wanna help you Buck but you gotta tell me”
“Steve...Stevie...” Bucky seemed to snap out of his trance enough to meet Steve's eyes. He looked desperate and in so much pain. Steve could swear he could feel his heart aching at the sight.
“What Buck? C'mon, tell me.” Steve gripped Bucky's wrists a little tighter, hoping the move was reassuring. If he tried hard enough, perhaps he could pass on some of his strength. Maybe then Bucky would be able to tell him what was going on.
“It's...I've been..” Bucky shook his head. His eyes moved away from Steve's and instead looked at the floor beneath them. “S'nothing.” He said after a moment or two.
“Seriously Buck, you gonna make me slap you?” Steve said, dropping Bucky's arms. His sudden burst of anger seemed to have no effect whatsoever on his best friend. Sighing heavily and resolving to speak to his mother about the situation, Steve reached forward and wrapped Bucky in a tight hug. Unfortunately, this seemed to have no effect either.
~*~
If there was ever a day that Sarah Rogers needed to get out of the hospital on time, it was today. That was, annoyingly, where Murphy's Law seemed to come into play as was usually the case in these situations. There'd been some sort of accident at a nearby warehouse and it was all hands on deck in the Emergency Room. Casualty after casualty appeared through the doors and each case seemed to be more complicated than the last. She kept glancing at the clock whenever she could and as it got closer to the time that the boys were due to finish school, she knew there was no way she was going to make it on time to pick them up. As soon as she got a second, she texted Steve to let him know of the change of plan and George her apology.
It would be ok, she told herself as she was called into the trauma room once more, there would always be tomorrow.
~*~
“Since Mom isn't gonna be back for a while, mind if I come in?” Steve asked when they reached the apartment Bucky shared with his father. He had homework and chores to do but there was no way in hell he was going to leave his best friend in this sort of state. What happened back at the school had scared him and he was determined to get to the bottom of it. Bucky shrugged at the question and let himself into the apartment. Steve followed, dumping his backpack alongside Bucky's and watching his friend careful as Bucky threw his jacket over the arm of a nearby chair before sitting down on the sofa. He made no moves to offer Steve a drink or a snack and seemed to be drifting off into the world that he seemed to inhabit nowadays. A world that nobody else but him seemed to be a part of.
Steve sat down next to Bucky and stared down at the carpet in front of them. He heard Bucky let out a soft sigh.
“I'm here if you need me Buck.” He said gently.
“My Dad said a similar thing.” Bucky replied quietly. He was fiddling with a loose string on the knee of his ripped jeans. Steve could see the slight tremor in his fingers. “Told me to talk to someone...” He added.
“Then talk.” Steve urged. “I care about you Buck, you know I do and I hate seeing you like this. You're always the one that tells me I've got my head in the clouds but this isn't somethin' else. You're so...haunted.” He swallowed hard, suddenly feeling near tears. “Does your Dad know?”
“No.” Bucky answered firmly. He was still playing with the string, wrapping it round and round his finger until his fingertip started to turn purple. “He's never gonna Stevie. I can't. I'm too fucking dir-”
Almost as if he'd been struck by lightning, Bucky stood up and rushed out of the room. A few seconds later, Steve heard the bathroom door slam and the lock being turned. Then the sound of the shower at full blast. Steve huffed in frustration. Determined as he may be, it was nothing against the force of Bucky's stubbornness.
He hung around for another twenty minutes, listening to the sound of the shower running. It was becoming obvious that Bucky wouldn't be coming out any time soon. Probably to avoid the questions. Steve sighed deeply, scribbled his friend a quick note and left.
~*~
In the shower, under water so hot it almost hurt, Bucky scrubbed and scrubbed. First with the soap, then with his flannel and then with a scouring pad they used to clean the bath with. His skin was becoming inflamed and painful but Bucky could still feel Pierce's touch. He raked the scouring pad across his shoulders once more. It didn't matter. He could stay under this water for the rest of his life and it still wouldn't make any difference. His skin felt sullied, branded by Pierce, no longer his own.
“I need help.” He muttered. Steve would be gone by now but even if he wasn't, there was no way he could be heard over the thunder of the shower. “I need someone. Anyone. I can't do this anymore.”
The bruises were fading but he could still feel them as if they were fresh. He didn't no how much longer he could live this ugliness inside of him
~*~
Steve sat by his bedroom window as he scribbled away in his sketchbook. He bit his lip distractedly as he tried to work out how he could make Bucky talk to him. There had to be a way to get it out of him. He cursed as he pressed too hard and snapped the lead of his pencil. He flung it across the room and it bounced off his bedroom door before landing with a clatter on his chest of drawers. Seconds later, the sketchbook followed.
“Hey, hey, what's all this?” Sarah asked as she opened the door. She looked utterly exhausted.
“Sorry Mom.” Steve said guiltily. She'd briefly explained about the emergency in her text message so he knew his mother must be feeling wiped out. He was beginning to feel that way himself. Tired out from all the worry. Frustrated because of the situation. He couldn't help but sigh.
“Talk to me.” Sarah sat down on his bed and patted the spot next to her. Steve moved from his seat at the window and sat down beside her. She put her arm around him and he couldn't help but lean into it. Why wasn't anything simple any more?
“It's Bucky.”
“I figured that Honey.” Sarah replied. “How was he today?”
“Same as he's been for days Mom. Weird and not like himself. I tried talking to him but I'm getting nowhere!” Steve exclaimed, anger rising once more. “Fuck!”
“Language.” Sarah said gently. “I'm sorry I wasn't there for you this afternoon Honey. So you tried talking to him again?” She rubbed Steve's back gently. The gesture had always calmed him down when he was a little boy and it seemed to be doing the trick now as she felt his rigid muscles slowly begin to relax a little.
“Yeah.” Steve hung his head. “I got nothing but that's not even the annoying part. He keeps almost saying something like he really wants to tell me but then...I don't know, something stops him.”
“I know it's a frustrating situation. We've just got to let Bucky know that we're there for him and hopefully he'll talk to us in his own time.”
“He's hurting Mom. I'm his best friend! I'm supposed to help him.” Steve had never felt so helpless in his life and he hated it.
“Honey, you do help him. You're helping him by letting him know you're there for him.” Sarah paused for a moment. “How about I try and get one of my shifts covered this week and he can sleepover? Maybe if he's more relaxed, he might open up to one of us.”
“I hope so.” Steve bit his bottom lip. He knew that neither he nor Bucky could go on much longer like this.
~*~
Bucky sat on the bathroom floor. He was still dripping wet from his last shower but he didn't have the energy to dry himself. Tomorrow was another school day. A gym class day. Pierce would be there tomorrow. He didn't, didn't, want to go to school. He was too afraid. It wasn't safe.
He hugged his knees.
He never wanted to see Pierce again. Never wanted to feel that touch. Not that it mattered. The seed had been planted now. The ugliness was growing and growing and even now, dripping with water and smelling strongly of disinfectant, he could still feel the man's touch all over him. He just wanted it to be over. Be done with. He wanted to forget and wait for it all to go away but he knew that wasn't a possibility. He was changed forever now. He would never be the person he was before. He was tainted permenantly and it wouldn't be long before it would show on the outside as well as on the inside. It hurt and he hurt and he wanted the hurt to go away. There was nobody who could take it away. Not Steve, not his father. He was sick and he was wrong and he would always be that way.
He squeezed his knees, pulling them closer to his chest. The dirt was overcoming him again. The ugliness rearing its head and roaring to be heard. He would never be clean. Never. Why didn't he fucking run away? Why didn't he scream until his lungs burned? Somebody would've heard. Someone would've come running and he wouldn't have to feel this way. But he didn't. Maybe he deserved it.
He pressed his forehead to his knees and began to sob, the sound echoing in the tiled bathroom making him feel as though he were trapped alone in a void. Even death couldn't be worse than this.
~*~
George arrived home carrying a bag of Bucky's favourite take-out food. He hoped that it would go some of the way to apologising for his busy schedule. He also hoped that it just might tempt his son into eating something. He'd noticed that Bucky barely ate this days, picking at his food and eating a few bites before pushing it away.
“Son! Bucky? I got take-out!” He called down the hallway as he kicked off his shoes. There was a part of him that hoped, however unlikely may be, that the meal together might encourage Bucky to talk about what was going on with him. George wasn't holding out much hope.
“Bucky?” He called again. He couldn't hear the noise of the shower, which was another frequent occurrence these days, nor were the lights on in the lounge. The only light in the apartment leaked from underneath his son's bedroom door.
George made a beeline for the bedroom. Even if Bucky was asleep, he was going to wake him. The boy needed some proper food in him even if they didn't talk. He opened the bedroom door and found Bucky laying on his bed on top of the covers. He was dressed in his usual t-shirt and pyjama pants that he wore to bed except there was something else on the covers. Something that pooled around Bucky, reflecting in the light from the bedside lamp.
Blood.
The pool continued to spread. The take-out bag dropped to the floor, its contents exploding all over the carpet.
~*~
Steve tossed aside his copy of '10,000 Leagues Under The Sea' aside sullenly. It was way past the time he should be asleep but he just couldn't settle down. He'd felt better when his mother was around but now that she'd gone to bed all of his worry came flooding back. Every time he closed his eyes he couldn't help but think of Bucky. He probably wasn't sleeping much. He'd probably be sitting up in his own bed right now, maybe upset. All these thoughts raced around Steve's head so he couldn't even lose himself in his favourite science fiction books.
The phone rang, startling him. For one brief moment he wondered if it was Bucky somehow sensing that he was awake too. He leapt out of bed and raced into the hallway but his mother had gotten there first.
“Hello?”
Steve stood in the doorway and watched. It was too late for it to be anything good. Good news never came in the middle of the night.
“Oh god! Yes. Yes of course I can. Of course. No problem. See you soon ok?” Sarah replaced the phone in its cradle and turned to Steve. To his shock her eyes were shining with tears.
“M-mom?” Steve suddenly felt his stomach drop to his feet. He knew what it would be before she even said anything. If he really thought about it, he knew that he should've seen it coming.
“It's Bucky, Honey.” Sarah replied. “Put some clothes on, we need to go to the hospital.”
END OF CHAPTER ONE!