[ he's not panicking. he's breathing. he is not having a whole ass panic attack over the phone like the last time he did a big fuck-up. if he repeats these things in his head ad nauseam, they will become true.
even as bucky's voice breaking like that stabs him in his stupid heart.
what slowly comes out of his mouth, punctuated with a wavering breath: ]
Look, I'm just trying to say sorry. I was joking, but it wasn't funny. It was fucked up.
( silence for a moment as bucky processes this, alex's words and tone and breath, and then there's a relieved shaky breath of his own to answer back after. )
[ meanwhile, on the other end, alex is sitting there like "is he doing the thing where he says okay because he's shutting down? did i break bucky? is there a way i can repent, and does it involve me throwing myself off a cliff like the old people in midsommar?" ]
James. James. You're like my favorite person in the world. I dunno why I just... say shit. You deserve better than that.
[ meanwhile, alex feels the blood rushing to his ears from the shame of running his mouth so carelessly. careless. this is proving that his fear of he only ever hurts the people he cares about could be founded. could hold so much water. even without sitting in front of him, bucky's voice paints a vivid technicolor image of whatever broken expression he must be wearing.
the sound of his blood rushing to his head starts to sound a lot more like "i ruined everything."
all this is getting tumbled around in his head like the world's worst snow globe when he replies, voice significantly more waterlogged than it had been just moments ago — ]
You're not. I know you didn't want it. I don't know why I — I'm so sorry I made it sound like I thought you were. Or that I said anything that would even make you think that's how I could ever feel.
I'm not changing my mind about you. I'll never change my mind. But all I ever do is hurt you, what good is that? I don't wanna keep hurting you.
[ his mom was right about him. it would've been easy enough to toss aside a stray thought like that completely on any other day, but today? today, her shitty care package is sitting across from him on the coffee table like it's actually her, astral projecting over miles to call him an idiot and remind him that he can't do anything right. he hasn't ever done anything right, why would he start now???
he keeps staring at the box, wanting to throw it across the room but knowing that a) he is An Adult now and b) it will make noise and bucky might have thoughts about it. instead of... anything, his free hand does an arthur-style fist clench. and he sniffs up all that congestion that is definitely allergies and not tears. ]
Wh- what? ( bucky sniffs anxiously and tries to keep his voice steady. ) What the hell are you talking about? "All I ever do is hurt you"? What are you even going on about?
( shuffling as bucky scrubs at his eyes. )
S- stop saying stupid shit right after you say all this stuff about never changing your mind, cause it sounds exactly like you're changing your fucking mind.
What about all the times we have fun and laugh? Do those not exist to you anymore? Is everything else just meaningless now cause o- of a misunderstanding? What I feel doesn't matter?
[ man that table turned so hard, alex was blown away, pinging into the sky like a super smash bros character. he fixed it — he fixed bucky being sad by making bucky mad. is that a victory or a lateral move???
however: it is comforting to have bucky go at him about the good times, in the "here's a highlight reel of all the times you haven't fucked up actually, dumbass" sense of it all. even as he fucks up again. he thinks in extremes because of all the shitty people in his life... also thinking in extremes. 💀 ]
No?! What the fuck? Of course all the good stuff matters! I just — I didn't know if I was fucking up so bad that it outweighed the good stuff.
And what you feel matters. It matters so much I overthink how I'm making you feel, I dunno.
But that's what you're saying, when you say that stuff. Th- that it automatically is, even without knowing what I feel or caring what that is. That all of it's just bad and. And it sucks, you know, like. I'm sure you don't like it either when I talk bad about myself, but you're doing it and acting like, like I don't want you and that's just not true.
( he voice cracks at the end, the emotion too difficult to contain. alex doesn't get to decide that for him. these are things he's entitled to decide for himself now. )
You want me to believe that you're telling the truth about how you feel, that you won't go, but you don't trust me either when I'm saying the same stuff. It's. It's really confusing.
...but it'd be nice, if that were just enough. I. I don't like. Feeling this pressure in my chest. And I don't. Want to make you upset or. Just.
Maybe we just need some way to know that when we understand each other, then we don't have to worry about whatever else is left. Or something like that. But I'm not sure if that's. Feasible.
[ bucky: i'm not sure that's how that works alex: okay, but, hear me out.... what if it did tho? ]
Me either. All that stuff. I don't like feeling like my heart is gonna explode 'cause I think I made you upset.
Like I said, sometimes when I'm mad I need to walk off and get it out of my system so I don't make things worse, right. Sometimes when chefs are on the line and start getting into a fight about something, they'll do "sorry" in sign language — like rubbing your chest over your heart kind of — to mean "we can talk about this later but we have shit to do right now that's more important." Maybe we could do some shit like that in person, so it's like "I still love you but I'm really upset right now" without making a whole conversation about it, you know? And if we're texting or on the phone it could be an emoji or a code word or some shit. Just so it's clear the world's not over. I think it'd help me, anyway, so...
Yeah. I mean, I wanna try something different. Cause I don't like how stuff like this feels. I don't want it to happen again. It could be... uh, I dunno. "Pineapple" or something. So it's kind of random and not like, a whole thing. Even if you think it's kind of dumb, you can try it for me, right?
Before when? [ does bucky mean in past relationships? that just highlights alex's incredible lack of past relationships, so he will simply not interpret it that way. 👉 👉 ] I mean, when I get mad, I usually kinda just... focus on something — it doesn't really matter what, it could be a coffee cup or a tree or a spot on the wall, whatever — and make my mind go blank. Just kinda stop existing for awhile until it goes away. And then I stopped getting angry as much in general, so... that's how I fixed everything.
[ this and other stories from alexander "i taught myself to dissociate and called it graduating from mental health college" nicholas kaznakov 🫠 ]
I don't think it's dumb. I want to try, if you think it will help.
And, uh, before the war, I guess. I'd. Just not think about it with anyone around. And maybe be upset about it later. But mostly try to make myself forget it happened.
[ alex like "oh... oh yes. i took a thing that wasn't a question and made it about me." it's fine, everything is fine. alex is trying to eat less shoes via overthinking how bucky must be thinking about everything alex says. as of... now, maybe. winky comes up in his lap to be an emotional support aberration and he even lets it him. ]
Yeah, I got you. Makes sense, I think. I try to do that, but sometimes whatever thing I'm mad about get stuck in my head. Like, on replay. [ a pause ] Please don't get weird about it but the drugs help with that sometimes. I need that. I need to not... be so fuckin' mad about everything all the time.
( bucky wouldn't mind having an emotional support winky right about now. instead, he's picking at the skin around his nails one-handedly, and it's not exactly going well, as if it would really ever go well anyway. )
Get weird? About what?
And anyway, I said try. That doesn't mean I ever succeeded, you know. Cause I doubt anyone ever really did. It was just all about. Playing the game, and. Making thing look like you'll always come out on top.
I dunno, you get weird about when I talk about my meds and I don't wanna make it a thing. But then I can't talk about this big thing I'm always dealing with and... I dunno, maybe it's in my head. Because I care about what you think about me.
[ winky looks up at him with its too-many eyes, and alex gently pushes its head away like "why are you reminding me of how fucking weird you are??" ]
Right. Kinda fake it 'til you make it. Only nobody ever makes it because you never stop faking it.
That was the way of things. For better or worse. And shell-shock definitely made it far more worse.
( a crackled puff of air catches against the mic as he huffs with a fragment of disdain. )
I don't think I get weird about your self-medicating. I think it's reasonable to be worried with how far you take it. It's not the fact that you do it but the volume and the consistency. And I'm not deluded. I know the benefits of using things like that. But you're also fucking up your body to do it, and.
( there's a pained pause before he continues again. )
What am I supposed to do, if you accidentally take it to far, and I lose you? How am I supposed to live with knowing I couldn't do anything about it? It's your choice, yeah, and I respect that. But I'm allowed to feel things about it too, okay? You can't just. Act like there can't possibly be any potential consequences.
[ it's in this moment that the emotion alex thought was "weird" was actually called "worry." and that people — especially bucky, but also anyone — worrying about him makes him deeply uncomfortable. especially worrying this much with this many words. ]
Yeah... yeah, I get what you mean. [ it comes out as a sheepish mumble. ] I know it's... not good. I could take less, or be better, or something. But it really hurts that much, all the time. Like, my head hurts, and then it spirals out into everything else. Everything. But nobody knows how to help me, and nothing really works, so it's like, what do I do? I take so many different things all the time because if I can mix up a bunch of shit that half works, maybe I can feel half better. Sometimes it's like, I don't give a shit if I might die, because I already feel like I'm dying.
[ his voice is sad and tired. did talking about it make it feel better? a little, kind of. with a bonus side of guilt. ]
And you can worry about it, I get it. But I dunno how to fix any of that, so... I'm sorry if it makes me harder to love. You said I'm not, but I kind of am.
Things like this aren't reasons to just stop loving someone. That's not how that works. It's only harder if you give up. Unless that's what you're saying, which I really hope you're not. Just because you've found one way to handle things doesn't mean it's the only way though.
Is this something you don't want to change? Even a little?
[ if you keep telling him he's not hard to love he's going to cry again 💀 ]
No, it's not— I mean, I'm not giving up. I don't want to. I'm just fuckin' tired, dude. You just hit this point that's like, how much energy do I have left to keep trying? Which I guess... sounds like giving up. [ hearing the gears in his brain turn out loud, in real time: amazing? ]
I guess it's like, I don't want to, but I'm stuck. Like, you can tell someone with a broken leg to get up and walk it off, and they can want to, but moving the leg hurts. How many times are they supposed to try and get up and act like if they move just the right way, their bones are gonna snap back together?
I'm not going "wow, I love my broken leg." Or, "my life is shit, and I love this whole ass... shit castle I built for myself." It's not like that. So, y'know, if you wanna help me, I'll try, okay?
( silence answers alex for several beats. the words he used still ring heavily of defeat and don't quite fill the soldier with confidence in alex's ability to try. bucky understands being tired, of course. he's been there, too. still is there, but he fights every day to inject meaning so that he won't sink under the waves.
for however similar their trauma may be, it's clearer now more than ever that the way they've each adapted to it differs greatly, bucky desperate to find any purpose to pry him free from his burdens and alex eagerly reliant on what he already knows best.
the slow breath bucky forces into his lungs doesn't quite reach the phone's receiver. )
Okay. ( the tone is neutral, controlled. ) Whatever you're willing to try.
[ in that silence, alex gets the sense that bucky isn't on the other end going "uwu i'm so proud of you baby 👏👏👏", which he knows he doesn't deserve or would even want?? but the lack of response interpreted as uncertainty on the other end of the line makes his stomach lurch anyway.
it's a smaller version — one matryoshka doll down — of the other argument in rotation. why won't he try harder to break out of his indentured servitude nightmare? for some wild and crazy reason, bucky keeps not being satisfied with him essentially going "nothing matters, i've decided to stay within this system, master the system, and hope everything works out maybe."
this seems more surmountable, even if "more" is relative. ]
I mean it, okay? I know it sounds fucked, but I didn't think I was still gonna be alive by now. But it's almost my birthday and I keep living, so... I should probably make it worth it. You make me want to. I know you're not supposed to pin all your shit on another person, but it didn't feel like there was a point before.
( alex's significant other doesn't enjoy being part of the "nothing matters" part of that argument. shocking.
what alex then chooses to add only further emphasizes how little bucky's existence really affects any of the big picture. he's a glimmer rather than the light alex seems to talk him up to be, and that familiar ache of not being enough, even for steve, wraps around his core, a weight dragging heavily to the floor.
it's a good thing bucky's already sitting on it. )
[ and once again, that "mmhmm. yeah. makes sense" was not the response that made his serotonin receptors go brrr. he takes a moment to marinate in his own discomfort before, instead of trying to run his mouth until he hits some invisible jackpot, ask a big scary question — scary because he already feels in his heart like it's going to be no, and his first tentative baby step isn't worth anything. which then sends him down a thought spiral of "should it be? do i have to try harder to say something? if i'm thinking this much about it, am i a liar even though i wasn't trying to be?" ]
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even as bucky's voice breaking like that stabs him in his stupid heart.
what slowly comes out of his mouth, punctuated with a wavering breath: ]
Look, I'm just trying to say sorry. I was joking, but it wasn't funny. It was fucked up.
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Okay. I. Um. O- okay.
( is that a snuffle? yeah, might be. )
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James. James. You're like my favorite person in the world. I dunno why I just... say shit. You deserve better than that.
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I didn't know if, if.
( his breath catches as he tries to gather his nerves. )
M- maybe you changed your mind, or. Or.
( he can't seem to say it, whatever it is. there's instead a long silent pause, and eventually and strained sigh. )
I didn't want to become what they made me into.
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the sound of his blood rushing to his head starts to sound a lot more like "i ruined everything."
all this is getting tumbled around in his head like the world's worst snow globe when he replies, voice significantly more waterlogged than it had been just moments ago — ]
You're not. I know you didn't want it. I don't know why I — I'm so sorry I made it sound like I thought you were. Or that I said anything that would even make you think that's how I could ever feel.
I'm not changing my mind about you. I'll never change my mind. But all I ever do is hurt you, what good is that? I don't wanna keep hurting you.
[ his mom was right about him. it would've been easy enough to toss aside a stray thought like that completely on any other day, but today? today, her shitty care package is sitting across from him on the coffee table like it's actually her, astral projecting over miles to call him an idiot and remind him that he can't do anything right. he hasn't ever done anything right, why would he start now???
he keeps staring at the box, wanting to throw it across the room but knowing that a) he is An Adult now and b) it will make noise and bucky might have thoughts about it. instead of... anything, his free hand does an arthur-style fist clench. and he sniffs up all that congestion that is definitely allergies and not tears. ]
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( shuffling as bucky scrubs at his eyes. )
S- stop saying stupid shit right after you say all this stuff about never changing your mind, cause it sounds exactly like you're changing your fucking mind.
What about all the times we have fun and laugh? Do those not exist to you anymore? Is everything else just meaningless now cause o- of a misunderstanding? What I feel doesn't matter?
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however: it is comforting to have bucky go at him about the good times, in the "here's a highlight reel of all the times you haven't fucked up actually, dumbass" sense of it all. even as he fucks up again. he thinks in extremes because of all the shitty people in his life... also thinking in extremes. 💀 ]
No?! What the fuck? Of course all the good stuff matters! I just — I didn't know if I was fucking up so bad that it outweighed the good stuff.
And what you feel matters. It matters so much I overthink how I'm making you feel, I dunno.
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( he voice cracks at the end, the emotion too difficult to contain. alex doesn't get to decide that for him. these are things he's entitled to decide for himself now. )
You want me to believe that you're telling the truth about how you feel, that you won't go, but you don't trust me either when I'm saying the same stuff. It's. It's really confusing.
This is so confusing.
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It's hard to deal with each others' baggage when it's all the same baggage and there's no tags on it or anything. In a metaphor way.
Can't we make it not confusing? Can't I just love you?
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...but it'd be nice, if that were just enough. I. I don't like. Feeling this pressure in my chest. And I don't. Want to make you upset or. Just.
Maybe we just need some way to know that when we understand each other, then we don't have to worry about whatever else is left. Or something like that. But I'm not sure if that's. Feasible.
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alex: okay, but, hear me out.... what if it did tho? ]
Me either. All that stuff. I don't like feeling like my heart is gonna explode 'cause I think I made you upset.
Like I said, sometimes when I'm mad I need to walk off and get it out of my system so I don't make things worse, right. Sometimes when chefs are on the line and start getting into a fight about something, they'll do "sorry" in sign language — like rubbing your chest over your heart kind of — to mean "we can talk about this later but we have shit to do right now that's more important." Maybe we could do some shit like that in person, so it's like "I still love you but I'm really upset right now" without making a whole conversation about it, you know? And if we're texting or on the phone it could be an emoji or a code word or some shit. Just so it's clear the world's not over. I think it'd help me, anyway, so...
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If you think it would help? I. I don't really know what to do anyway, so. Um. It's probably better than nothing.
I don't know how to do this kind of stuff. Before, you would just. Swallow it? All of it. And. Make it not matter so your life would stay on track.
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Before when? [ does bucky mean in past relationships? that just highlights alex's incredible lack of past relationships, so he will simply not interpret it that way. 👉 👉 ] I mean, when I get mad, I usually kinda just... focus on something — it doesn't really matter what, it could be a coffee cup or a tree or a spot on the wall, whatever — and make my mind go blank. Just kinda stop existing for awhile until it goes away. And then I stopped getting angry as much in general, so... that's how I fixed everything.
[ this and other stories from alexander "i taught myself to dissociate and called it graduating from mental health college" nicholas kaznakov 🫠 ]
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And, uh, before the war, I guess. I'd. Just not think about it with anyone around. And maybe be upset about it later. But mostly try to make myself forget it happened.
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[ alex like "oh... oh yes. i took a thing that wasn't a question and made it about me." it's fine, everything is fine. alex is trying to eat less shoes via overthinking how bucky must be thinking about everything alex says. as of... now, maybe. winky comes up in his lap to be an emotional support aberration and he even lets
ithim. ]Yeah, I got you. Makes sense, I think. I try to do that, but sometimes whatever thing I'm mad about get stuck in my head. Like, on replay. [ a pause ] Please don't get weird about it but the drugs help with that sometimes. I need that. I need to not... be so fuckin' mad about everything all the time.
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Get weird? About what?
And anyway, I said try. That doesn't mean I ever succeeded, you know. Cause I doubt anyone ever really did. It was just all about. Playing the game, and. Making thing look like you'll always come out on top.
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[ winky looks up at him with its too-many eyes, and alex gently pushes its head away like "why are you reminding me of how fucking weird you are??" ]
Right. Kinda fake it 'til you make it. Only nobody ever makes it because you never stop faking it.
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( a crackled puff of air catches against the mic as he huffs with a fragment of disdain. )
I don't think I get weird about your self-medicating. I think it's reasonable to be worried with how far you take it. It's not the fact that you do it but the volume and the consistency. And I'm not deluded. I know the benefits of using things like that. But you're also fucking up your body to do it, and.
( there's a pained pause before he continues again. )
What am I supposed to do, if you accidentally take it to far, and I lose you? How am I supposed to live with knowing I couldn't do anything about it? It's your choice, yeah, and I respect that. But I'm allowed to feel things about it too, okay? You can't just. Act like there can't possibly be any potential consequences.
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Yeah... yeah, I get what you mean. [ it comes out as a sheepish mumble. ] I know it's... not good. I could take less, or be better, or something. But it really hurts that much, all the time. Like, my head hurts, and then it spirals out into everything else. Everything. But nobody knows how to help me, and nothing really works, so it's like, what do I do? I take so many different things all the time because if I can mix up a bunch of shit that half works, maybe I can feel half better. Sometimes it's like, I don't give a shit if I might die, because I already feel like I'm dying.
[ his voice is sad and tired. did talking about it make it feel better? a little, kind of. with a bonus side of guilt. ]
And you can worry about it, I get it. But I dunno how to fix any of that, so... I'm sorry if it makes me harder to love. You said I'm not, but I kind of am.
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Things like this aren't reasons to just stop loving someone. That's not how that works. It's only harder if you give up. Unless that's what you're saying, which I really hope you're not. Just because you've found one way to handle things doesn't mean it's the only way though.
Is this something you don't want to change? Even a little?
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No, it's not— I mean, I'm not giving up. I don't want to. I'm just fuckin' tired, dude. You just hit this point that's like, how much energy do I have left to keep trying? Which I guess... sounds like giving up. [ hearing the gears in his brain turn out loud, in real time: amazing? ]
I guess it's like, I don't want to, but I'm stuck. Like, you can tell someone with a broken leg to get up and walk it off, and they can want to, but moving the leg hurts. How many times are they supposed to try and get up and act like if they move just the right way, their bones are gonna snap back together?
I'm not going "wow, I love my broken leg." Or, "my life is shit, and I love this whole ass... shit castle I built for myself." It's not like that. So, y'know, if you wanna help me, I'll try, okay?
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for however similar their trauma may be, it's clearer now more than ever that the way they've each adapted to it differs greatly, bucky desperate to find any purpose to pry him free from his burdens and alex eagerly reliant on what he already knows best.
the slow breath bucky forces into his lungs doesn't quite reach the phone's receiver. )
Okay. ( the tone is neutral, controlled. ) Whatever you're willing to try.
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it's a smaller version — one matryoshka doll down — of the other argument in rotation. why won't he try harder to break out of his indentured servitude nightmare? for some wild and crazy reason, bucky keeps not being satisfied with him essentially going "nothing matters, i've decided to stay within this system, master the system, and hope everything works out maybe."
this seems more surmountable, even if "more" is relative. ]
I mean it, okay? I know it sounds fucked, but I didn't think I was still gonna be alive by now. But it's almost my birthday and I keep living, so... I should probably make it worth it. You make me want to. I know you're not supposed to pin all your shit on another person, but it didn't feel like there was a point before.
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what alex then chooses to add only further emphasizes how little bucky's existence really affects any of the big picture. he's a glimmer rather than the light alex seems to talk him up to be, and that familiar ache of not being enough, even for steve, wraps around his core, a weight dragging heavily to the floor.
it's a good thing bucky's already sitting on it. )
Mmhm. Yeah. Makes sense.
( he doesn't sound entirely convinced. )
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You believe me, right?
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