video 01 | Aortic Aneurysm

[clussy]

(You know who is not going to react to this situation decently no matter how many times it's explained to him? Eddie. You know who doesn't have a good game face against fear? Also Eddie. He's alone, he needs an adult, and he's pretty sure they don't restock on inhalers here. He knew he didn't need it, not technically, but he also knew that his lungs were contracting at a rate that lead to hyperventilating and as far as he was concerned, that was exactly what an asthma attack was all about. He was having an asthma attack. Maybe. His body was thinking about it.

By the way, he's definitely just been staring at the video for a couple of silent seconds, his jaw working back and forth as he just tried to remind himself that he was actually capable of breathing. This kid......)

My mom's going to fucking kill me.

(The words are whispered under his breath and he would think twice about swearing if he realized how many adults might be watching this video. He was enough of a loser that he could get the whole communication device thing, really, that was fine. But he wasn't quite able to wrap his mind around the full extent of it all.

After a second, he decides fuck it. He needs his inhaler. It goes up, he gives it a few shakes, and takes a deep, deep breath in with it. Holds. Holds.

Then his whole body deflates, his eyes rolling up. He closes his eyes and thinks about how he would talk to the police in Derry. Ha. If that wasn't the biggest fucking joke ever. When he speaks next, his voice is pitched higher than before, that typical 'I'm trying super hard to be polite and endearing' voice that he uses to call his mom 'mommy' when he's real apologetic. He's not even trying to be a suck up. The kid's just scared.)

Um. My name's Eddie Kaspbrak. I'm Sonia Kaspbrak's son and I definitely need to be home for dinner which is like, in an hour. So if anyone can help...I would really appreciate it.

.....God, I really hope this isn't that creep who was taking all those kids.

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[clussy]

Absently, Eddie is aware of two things: his lungs are on fire and his bike had just fallen over. The wheel was spinning slowly from the impact, rusty clicking as it came to a full stop. His chest shudders with violence and he balls his fists up, crushing them into his eyes to will his panic away.

This wasn't just because of what Chara said. Well, yeah, it definitely had set him off but now he was just having an anxiety attack about everything in his situation. He was that raw, animal-scared where he could practically feel the snare around his ankle.

What was he supposed to do?

It's not until he sees from the edge of his vision kneeling that he realizes he's got company. Eddie furiously rubs at his face and swallows a deep breath. He couldn't be caught crying like some candy ass. Not by anyone.

He sucks in a harsh breath and when he drops his hands, he's ...not crying but it's painfully obvious that he's only just barely keeping himself from crying more. His face is tear streaked, his eyes red and wet.

"I'm fine," he insists with a crack right down the middle of his voice. He considers the man in front of him, eyes darting warily across his face before dropping to his lap where he had his aspirator clutched in a white-knuckled grip.

"I just fell is all."

[lefthandfree]

The excuse was far from convincing, but that’s not the part that sticks out to him. The way he throws it all off like it’s some kind of mark against him, some proof of weakness, rings far too familiarly for him to call it and leave the kid to deal with his lie on his own. Maybe it’s true that he wouldn’t have ignored the kid anyway, his inner voice incapable of letting sleeping dogs lie if anyone seems remotely in trouble, but it’s the similarity he sees in the young man to someone else he knows that really seals the deal.

Of course, he’s not dense, this not being his first rodeo. He doesn’t draw attention to the obvious lie, instead smiling peaceably to show he doesn’t mind being here, that he isn’t an enemy.

“Okay,” he offers, standing again to draw attention away from the young man’s present appearance, still distressed and swollen despite the forced composure. He moves to the bike, picking it up to standing again, slowly assessing the damage as if his concern is with the contraption and not the young man still settled beside it. “Nothing broken I hope? Y'know, the greenery is a much better place to ride around though. Lotsa grass, so you can land easy.”

[clussy]

Being caught crying was bad enough. Being caught crying by an adult was the worst though. They always wanted to get too involved and asked all the wrong questions then they never did anything about why you were crying. By the end of it all, Eddie never felt any better about crying in front of an adult. This adult was no exception as Eddie kept rubbing at his face.

While Eddie doesn't realize it on a surface level, he's grateful that the stranger goes instead to pick up his bike and takes the attention off of him. Eddie picks at the neckline of his shirt and uses it to rub his eyes the rest of the way dry, only a few fat tears escaping here and there.

"No, I don't think so. It's a sturdy bike," he mumbles and after a reluctant moment, stands up. He sniffs rather loudly. There's a little wavering hiccup in his voice as he does so. "The- I think I saw that earlier. Um."

Because Eddie hasn't the best experience with adults. He grabs at his own arm and looks a touch defensive. "Who are you?"

[lefthandfree]

He hadn’t meant the bike at all, but he does nothing to correct the boy, realizing that it would likely imply some sort of inference that he must have hurt himself due to his age. That wouldn’t do; it’s not like adults aren’t just as prone to accidents either.

Dusting off the seat with a pensive hum, he kicks the bicycle stand open and gives it a moment to settle. There’s no wobble; always a good sign.

“James,” he starts before turning to offer the kid an easy smile. “Name’s James. Or Bucky if you’d prefer.” It's the first time he’s offered the nickname to anyone here; James is too impersonal. “Nice ride, by the way. I used to want one like this when I was little.” Bikes weren’t the most practical thing to own in New York City at the time though, easy to steal and no racks around. “How’s she ride?”

[clussy]

No, he wouldn't have, would he? Eddie seems to be doing better though on account of no longer being alone. Even if he's not on the best term with adults in general, this guy seemed...okay. He at least had a friendly looking smile, Eddie thought.

"Bucky?" Eddie echoes at once, brow rolling up curiously. It was a weird nickname and he's only really heard it one place before now. And he doesn't think that this could possibly be one in the same, so Eddie says with perfect casualness: "Like Bucky Barnes?"

Eddie's distracted soon enough, because of course, this isn't actually Bucky Barnes, right? Right.

"Thanks," he says and he means it, looking a little proud. It was no Silver, but it was a good, dependable bike.

"Really nice. Do you want to try 'her' out?" Eddie phrases 'her' a little weird. It's not an It, it's a her. Bucky might be a little big, but not so big he'd break the bike. It was a bike that was meant to last Eddie through his teens- so it was pretty big for him all things considered.

[lefthandfree]

Few things ever catch him off guard anymore these days, not with the training that Hydra’s instilled into his every nerve, but with the young man suddenly saying his name as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he can’t fully contain his surprise, his brows knitting upward. Alarm quickly shoots through him, worry for his proper identity being known at all, much less by this stranger he’s only just met.

The kid moves on from it quickly enough—Thank God—but dread lingers in the pit of his stomach, even as he shakes off the shock in his expression to offer a pleased smile at the offer to ride the bicycle.

“You don’t mind? We just met and all.” Not that he wants to refuse the chance if he’s allowed. He can’t even remember the last time he rode a bike properly. Looking back down at the seat, he smoothes his hand thoughtfully over the curve before he finds himself unable to withhold the concern any longer. “Who’s Bucky Barnes?”