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Comments

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should I call?

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no
yes
i dunno

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helpful

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[ when you are SO MAD at someone, but also they are the only person who can comfort you so you don't want to tell them to go away... ]

okay, don't call
i'd be shitty at talking anyway
i can't breathe

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you
just said no? and then that you don't know?

do you want me to call?

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yes

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( ring ring ring, phone call, phone call— )

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[ he picks up, only to greet him with a miserable water-logged ]

Hey.

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Hey, gorgeous.

( ...he's trying to cheer him up. )

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[ he huffs a half-laugh sound, which is the most he can currently manage. everything is bad and he is perpetually almost crying while feeling like his lungs were replaced with a bendy straw. ]

Gorgeous yourself.

[ is he flirting back or trying to deliver a compliment with oomph of "fuck off" but failing? who can truly say. realistically, both. ]

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( there's a huff, indicating that there might be a blush happening somewhere. )

You want me to read to you? Would that help?

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[ he can't even feel satisfied with making bucky make that noise because all his energy is going into not going nonverbal and ugly crying. clearly it's just the concussion fucking with his emotional regulation. he's not just Like This. that would be crazy.]

I dunno. Read what?

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( crazy indeed. )

Something funny? Or boring? What kind of stuff do you read for fun?

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[ he softly sighs the "i'm trying so hard to keep it together right now" sigh before replying ]

Dude, I cannot think of a single book I've ever read right now.

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Right, sorry.

( a pause. )

I'll try looking for stuff I used to read my kid sister. Gimme a sec.

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[ alex is so infinitely frustrated that bucky is (to him) out there treating his "phobia that makes [him] feel like he wants to die" like an "everybody gets a little scared sometimes anyway be normal" but lacks the energy or words to describe it. besides, the one brain cell dedicated to things besides breathing is like "dude you're hard enough to love right now anyway." big positive vibes from that guy. ]

Wh... okay.

[ he's 90% sure bucky is about to read him a children's book, and he finds himself mostly okay with it? he's meeting him on his level, truly. ]

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( it's not of a lack of dismissal on bucky's part but really a different way of handling things. resignation has defined most of bucky's life, even in the face of death, so his focus tends toward the desire to live and dragging out everything left until the last breath.

but this is difficult to describe, too, and like most things, he takes things as presented to him and steps back when he doesn't know what else to say. this too is resignation, but what is there left to do when no one extends a hand back?

after several beats of silence, he clears his throat. )

I dunno if you ever read this as a kid. Maybe? It's still being printed apparently, which isn't something I see often, from something I knew before.

Well.

Anyway, it's called Millions of Cats.

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[ he attempts to rack his brain for the title, unsurprisingly still finding it hard to think about anything that isn't directly in front of him. cats... book... maybe? (it's already distracting him. ✨ beautiful ✨ ) ]

I'm not sure. It sounds kind of familiar, I think? [ then, attempting humor ] I'm gonna be pissed off if there aren't a million cats in it.

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Don't worry, there are.

( alex can likely here the smile in his voice. )

Okay,

Once upon a time there was a very old man and a very old woman. They lived in a nice clean house which had flowers.

There's a picture of the house, and it's kinda cute. Like a cottage sort of thing.

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[ while he would rather get to see the pictures, at least he can expend brain power towards imagining what the illustration is supposed to look like instead of spiraling. ]

Mm-hm... waiting on those cats.

[ in addition to waiting for cats, he is also trying to catch his breath and calm down. ]

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Right.

Oh, I forgot to read the bit in the next block. I never get why they break up sentences like this...

They lived in a nice clean house which had flowers all around it, except where the door was. But they couldn’t be happy because they were so very lonely.

Relatable. I think.

“If we only had a cat!” sighed the very old woman.
“A cat?” asked the very old man.
“Yes, a sweet little fluffy cat,” said the very old woman.
“I will get you a cat, my dear,” said the very old man.

See, your cats are coming.

[smokes]

[ he chuckles; it's amazing. the sun is coming out. like sure, everything is still cold and sterile and smells like death, but right now: cats. also right now: feeling sorry for a fictional old couple, maybe. ]

Damn, I wonder how he's gonna come back with a million.

[ he just had to add in his one-brain-celled commentary. very important. ]

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( bucky chuckles softly, then continues: )

And he set out over the hills to look for one. He climbed over the sunny hills. He trudged through the cool valleys. He walked a long, long time and at last he came to a hill which was quite covered with cats.

There's a picture here where he's just walking over these giant hilly grasslands. It's pretty. And. The next page has him on the hill with all the cats. It's like. If pixels on a screen were cats. It's not just covered, it's packed side to side. I think I'd actually hate seeing that in person, but. Well, anyway.

Cats here, cats there,
Cats and kittens everywhere,
Hundreds of cats,
Thousands of cats,
Millions and billions and trillions of cats.

You think it'll only be a million?

[smokes]

It's called Millions of Cats, so there was gonna be at least two million.

[ he huffs, 70% sort of laughing and 30% a statement with the finality of "so there." ]

You gotta take a picture of that shit. That's a whole lotta fuckin' cats.

[ time to stare at the ceiling. clear his mind a little bit, as a treat. no hospital. no waiting to get a nerve block for a ruptured disc that he is treating with the gravity of open heart surgery that wouldn't even bother him if it was literally anywhere else besides the cold white death box. just a horrifying and fascinating landscape of cats. ]

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Sure, yeah.

There are so many kinds here. White ones. Black ones. Long-haired. Bushy. All kinds. Any kind you could think of, really. ( he's making this up, but that's how you read stories to someone. )

“Oh,” cried the old man joyfully, “Now I can choose the prettiest cat and take it home with me!” So he chose one. It was white.
But just as he was about to leave, he saw another one all black and white and it seemed just as pretty as the first. So he took this one also.