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There’s a man with soft eyes and a Sunshiney smile that catches the same A train as Steve on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He’s already on the train when Steve gets on, but he gets off two stops before Steve’s, and he always smiles at Steve like they’re friends.
Not to be creepy, but Steve’s, like, half in love with him.
They don’t talk. Steve’s cool with that, because they sit opposite each other and Steve sketches the creases in his hoodie or the knots in his laces or the shadows of his bag as they ride in relative silence.
They ride together, and it’s nice, and they don’t say a word to each other.
Until their train is delayed for half an hour.
It feels like a regular Tuesday. Sunshiney guy is in his usual seat, Steve’s in his own. He has his headphones in and taps one foot on the ground in beat to his music, the other tucked under his butt so he can rest his sketchpad on his thigh.
He’s kind of distracted with the shading, plus he’s listening to music, so he misses the start of the announcement. But Sunshiney guy catches his eyes and taps his own ear twice, so Steve takes out his headphones. The intercom’s on, and the conductor is speaking, apologising for the delay. (Steve hadn’t even noticed they’d stopped, to be honest.)
“ Busses will arrive in ten minutes to replace the train. Once again, sorry for the inconvenience.”
Steve frowns, not sure what’s going on, but Sunshiney guy is pale as fuck , and his hands are shaking.
“What did he say?” Steve asks, shoving his pad back into its bag. Sunshiney guy opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He’s literally on the verge of tears, and Steve doesn’t know him, but he can’t just leave him like that. He sits down in the vacant seat next to him and puts his hand on the guy’s back.
“Some prick threw himself in front of a train down the line. All the trains are stopped until it’s been cleaned up,” some woman down the cart says, voice bland as if this is just some delay, as if it’s a bother .
“Excuse me?” Steve says, feeling the man stiffen under his hand at her words.
“I know right,” the woman says, completely misreading Steve. “I mean, couldn’t he have just swallowed a bottle of pills in a locked room before leaving the house this morning? Taken a gun to his head?”
Sunshiney guy’s started crying now, but he’s desperately trying to pretend he hasn’t. He’s taking deep measured breaths, but they’re wobbly and his eyes are swimming in tears. Steve can feel his blood boiling under his skin and he stands up.
“What the fuck would you know, ma’am?” He growls, taking a step towards her. She hardly bats an eye, and for the millionth time in his life Steve hates his small stature and the easy dismissal he gets because of it.
“I’m just saying,” she sighs with a dramatic eye roll, “that there were less selfish ways to go about this.”
“Oh, well then. I’m just saying there are less selfish ways to go about hearing of a suicide, you disgusting excuse for a person,” Steve spits, taking another step towards her. “Someone just died and your first thought is of how it inconvenienced you. I can’t believe this.”
“He did it at rush hour! If he’d done it two hours ago it wouldn’t have mattered so much-”
Steve is so close, so fucking close to punching her in the face, but the Sunshiney guy makes a heartbreaking sound and Steve needs to get him off the train, away from this situation. That takes priority. Steve reluctantly backs down, grabbing both their bags in one hand and pulling the guy up with his other.
“Come on, pal,” Steve says in his softest voice (which, admittedly, is not that soft) as he guides the guy out of the tain. “Let’s get some fresh air.”
The station’s crowded because it’s New York and 6:30ish and it’s the closest stop to the incident, so Steve pulls Sunshiney guy close as they weave through the crowd to get above ground.
“I’m sorry,” he sobs into Steve’s shoulder when they’re alone on a bench in the autumn wind. Steve squeezes his shoulder in what he hopes is a comforting manner.
“It’s okay, you’re allowed to be upset,” Steve murmurs. People walk past them without sparing a second glance, and Steve wants to jump to his feet and shout at them.
“ Someone died today, ” he wants to shout. “Someone was driven to a place where killing himself was the only solution, but here you are, carrying on as if nothing has changed!”
Except nothing has changed. These people probably don’t know the guy even existed in the first place. They’ve probably never crossed paths, and they will live the rest of their lives not knowing someone just died this close to them.
Steve pulls the Sunshiney guy closer to him and resists the urge to bury his face in his hair.
“Helluva first impression, huh?” The Sunshiney guy laughs after a moment, eventually pulling away from Steve. Steve shrugs but keeps his arm looped around the man’s back, because he hasn’t pulled back that far and Steve wants him to know it’s okay for him to stay.
“To be fair, that wasn’t a first impression. We see each other twice a week,” Steve replies with a small smile. “I’m Steve.”
“Bucky,” Sunshiney guy says.
“Do you live far from here, Bucky?” Steve asks as he pulls Bucky to his feet. Bucky glances around and shrugs.
“Half hour walk. You?”
“I'll probably Uber,” Steve says because he's still ages from home and really not in the mood for public transport. “Let me walk you home though?”
“Yeah, okay,” Bucky says. He drifts slightly from Steve until they're still close, but not quite touching. “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me.”
“I just- I can't believe that actually happened.” Bucky shivers at the thought and Steve can see his hands are shaking at his sides. But he also took a step away, so Steve doesn't press it.
“It's a lot to process,” Steve agrees, attention set on Bucky from the corner of his eye.
“The poor guy-” Bucky says, but doesn't finish.
“A little human contact isn't all bad,” Steve says quietly as he takes Bucky's hand again. The shaking stops and Steve moves closer, until their sides are brushing. “It's surprisingly comforting.”
Steve, of course, doesn't mean it for him. He's fine, a-okay, everything's cool. Bucky's just so clearly shaken, and really, Steve's got no right to deny him such simple comfort.
Bucky's hand is warm in his own, he's a solid presence at Steve's side. Steve doesn't notice.
The trains are back to normal by Thursday, and Steve takes the empty seat next to Bucky this time.
“Hey,” Bucky says when Steve sits next to him. He smiles his sunshiney smile and Steve smiles back, not all sunshiney but just as genuine.
“Hey,” he says, and maybe his smile isn't naturally all sunshiney like Bucky's, but it gets pretty close when Bucky leans into his side and offers up a headphone.
“What are you doing tomorrow at 3:30?” Bucky asks when Steve settles down next to him on Tuesday.
“Work,” Steve shrugs. “Why’s that?”
“The man from last week,” Bucky says. He pauses, clenching his hands into balls in his lap. “It’s his funeral. I thought I might go.”
“I’ll take a half day,” Steve says immediately. Bucky seems determined to go, and Steve doesn’t want him to have to go alone.
“Are you sure?” Bucky asks nervously. Steve slides his hand between Bucky’s and laces their fingers together.
“I’ll be there,” he promises.
It’s an open funeral at Evergreens cemetery, and it takes Steve and Bucky a moment to find it because there’s only one other guy there with the priest. He’s got an ill-fitted suit on, dark sunglasses and a retriever at his side.
“Hello,” Steve calls out when they’re within earshot. The guy’s head shoots up and he scratches at his ear as they approach.
“You here for Chernin?” The guy asks, tilting his head. He seems to be looking them over, but also Steve is pretty sure he’s blind. Bucky nods.
“Yeah, we- yeah.”
“How did you know him?” The blind guy asks. They’re out at a fresh headstone, and the guy has flowers but there’s no coffin or sign of freshly turned earth. Steve figures there wasn’t much left of the poor guy to be buried.
“We didn’t,” Bucky says. “We were just on the train and wanted to pay our respect.”
“Thanks for coming,” the guy sighs. “I’m Clint. I was his landlord.”
Something in Steve’s heart breaks. Clint’s not even a friend or family, he’s the guy’s landlord . Bucky grabs Steve’s hand, and when Steve looks at him he can see Bucky’s trying to hold back tears again.
“Shall we?” The priest says after a moment of silence, and Clint nods him on.
It’s a nice service, as nice as a three-person service can be, two of whom are just strangers. Bucky holds Steve’s hand the whole way through, his other wiping at his eyes. Steve can’t see if Clint cries or not, but he himself doesn’t. He just holds Bucky’s hand and does not let go.
“I wish I had done more, you know?” Clint says once the priest has left. Steve nods and lets go of Bucky’s hand so Bucky can pull Clint into a hug.
“I’m sure he’s found peace wherever he is,” Bucky says. Usually Steve can’t stand it when people say shit like that at funerals, but Bucky sounds so honest and genuine he can’t help but feel like Bucky’s right.
“Thank you for coming,” Clint says again, pulling away from Bucky and shaking Steve’s hand. Steve’s starting to think he’s not actually blind, just wearing sunglasses. “I appreciate it.”
“Yeah, of course,” Steve says. He wants to take Bucky’s hand again, but he doesn’t.He has no reason to.
Clint kneels down at the headstone and places the flowers at the base of it. He whispers something Steve can’t quite make out, so he turns around to give them some privacy.
“What do you want to do now?” Steve murmurs into Bucky's side as Clint straightens back up.
“I don't want to go home- not yet,” Bucky admits quietly. Clint's dog remains at the headstone, unaware that Clint has left him, and Steve decides that's definitely not a guide dog.
“We could go for a wander. Cemeteries can be quite nice, especially this time of year,” Steve suggests. Bucky nods and they say goodbye to Clint, walking off in opposite directions.
It's quiet in the cemetery and they don't pass anyone as they make their way around the grounds. The paths are littered with orange leaves and the sunlight filters through the branches overhead in an amber glow. Steve looks up at Bucky as he takes his hand.
“I actually really like funerals,” he says. “Even when it's a stranger's and there are no memories to look back on. Maybe they're even better, because although we never got to meet, I still get the chance to know they existed.”
“Okay” Bucky says. He looks mildly amused, but he lets Steve takes his hand all the same, and doesn't drop it until they head home.
Bucky sends Steve a text on Saturday night after Steve's gone to sleep, but he checks his phone first thing in the morning and smiles when he sees the notification.
Bucky: plans for tomorrow?
Steve's gotta go to the supermarket and do a load of washing, but he can be flexible about when he does them so he tells Bucky he's free before stumbling into the shower.
There's a message waiting for him when he gets out.
Bucky: high school friends funeral at 4.30. dont wanna go alone
“So maybe she wasn't quite a high school friend,” Bucky says as they get out of the taxi. Steve levels him with a look , because this can only mean trouble.
“What does that mean?” Steve asks, falling into step beside him.
“I knew her. At high school.” Bucky says, his words stilted.
“But,” Steve prompts.
“But we never had any classes together. Or talked. Or interacted,” Bucky sighs, rubbing his hand down his face. “At least you like funerals, right?”
Steve stops walking, placing his hand on Bucky's forearm so he stops too.
“Bucky, no,” he says. “I mean, yeah, I like funerals. But not this much. Not like a fun-day-out.”
“Ah, shit.” Bucky closes his eyes and runs his hand through his hair before looking back down at Steve. “Not a good date idea, then?”
“This is a date?” Steve asks incredulously.
“No.” Bucky's reply is immediate but his ears turn pink and he won't meet Steve's eyes. “I fucked up.”
“Hey, it's fine,” Steve promises. “But if we're going on a date, coffee is just fine. Or a walk. Or a movie. Really, anything but a funeral.”
“You like funerals,” Bucky huffs defensively.
“Yeah but not like that, man. C'mon.”
“Wanna go for a walk, then?” Bucky asks, holding out his hand.
“I'd like that,” Steve says. He takes Bucky's hand, and although they've done this before, it feels different this time. It is different this time.