![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
May. 30th, 2016 01:55 pmThere are difficulties.
He feels. (He shouldn't. He feels like he shouldn't feel, and even Bucky recognizes the irony in that.)
He feels conflicted about Steve, his best friend, his best friend that he's tried to kill more than once. Steve, who is really the best kind of friend anyone could ask for, who throws his arms around Bucky's shoulders with ease, who listens to his incomplete songs and doesn't laugh, who has fun playing football even though Bucky feels like the loosest of cannons on a good day.
Bucky doesn't deserve a friend like Steve but he's loathe to let it go easily.
He isn't sleeping like he should, staying up until impossible hours writing songs, smoking cloves with the dorm window open. He doesn't see the Black Widow not watching him from the quad and smiles, writing furiously.
He isn't sure how to interact with the others. Does he ask them if they trust him? (No, and no.) Does he ask if they're good friends to Steve. (No, and hopefully.) Does he ask them about the Widow? About his music? Those are easier. They aren't really about him, so they have an impersonal distance.
They are completely about him, but he asks anyway.
He often forgets what he was doing in the middle of finishing them, more interested in chord progressions than mission prerogatives. He doesn't take orders, bristles at directions.
There are difficulties, but there is the music. Through the music he can move people in a way that supersedes fear. Through the music he can talk about the empty hellscape his mind often feels like. He can tell the world of Steve's bravery.(Not Captain America's - Steve's.) He can pine a bit, see people dance and lose themselves in the music while he worries if the Widow will ever smile his way.
There are difficulties but the music, Steve? Makes it worth it. And maybe, if he's lucky, he won't be the villain forever. Maybe he'll get to be the hero.
He's never been lucky as far as he's concerned. Maybe though. There's a first time for everything.
He feels. (He shouldn't. He feels like he shouldn't feel, and even Bucky recognizes the irony in that.)
He feels conflicted about Steve, his best friend, his best friend that he's tried to kill more than once. Steve, who is really the best kind of friend anyone could ask for, who throws his arms around Bucky's shoulders with ease, who listens to his incomplete songs and doesn't laugh, who has fun playing football even though Bucky feels like the loosest of cannons on a good day.
Bucky doesn't deserve a friend like Steve but he's loathe to let it go easily.
He isn't sleeping like he should, staying up until impossible hours writing songs, smoking cloves with the dorm window open. He doesn't see the Black Widow not watching him from the quad and smiles, writing furiously.
He isn't sure how to interact with the others. Does he ask them if they trust him? (No, and no.) Does he ask if they're good friends to Steve. (No, and hopefully.) Does he ask them about the Widow? About his music? Those are easier. They aren't really about him, so they have an impersonal distance.
They are completely about him, but he asks anyway.
He often forgets what he was doing in the middle of finishing them, more interested in chord progressions than mission prerogatives. He doesn't take orders, bristles at directions.
There are difficulties, but there is the music. Through the music he can move people in a way that supersedes fear. Through the music he can talk about the empty hellscape his mind often feels like. He can tell the world of Steve's bravery.(Not Captain America's - Steve's.) He can pine a bit, see people dance and lose themselves in the music while he worries if the Widow will ever smile his way.
There are difficulties but the music, Steve? Makes it worth it. And maybe, if he's lucky, he won't be the villain forever. Maybe he'll get to be the hero.
He's never been lucky as far as he's concerned. Maybe though. There's a first time for everything.
