keep me high in your blue sky
day five : soulmates @sambuckyevents
The first time, Sam’s convinced something is wrong with him.
Convinced that in some past life, or lives, he’s pissed off enough of the wrong people to have the world’s worst luck plague him in the here and now.
What else could explain how, after years and years of looking, a stint in the paramilitary — many broken-hearts — that he’s finally face to face with his soulmate and he can barely hear his name being called?
Some people go their entire lives without the joy of hearing their name spoken clearly. Without even hearing their name at all, but Sam was so sure he’d gotten lucky — that for once, karma was on his side — and technically, he did and it was but strangely, there’s a weird echo whenever Riley says his name.
He can hear Riley, knows Riley can hear him when he says the man’s name back but he also knows this isn’t how this soulmate thing is supposed to work. And as much as Sam wants to blame it on all of the times he’s bumped his head as a child or something and just be happy with what he has in front of him — and Lord knows Riley makes him happy, the happiest he’s ever been, he still knows.
“It’s indescribable Sam,” his mother once told him. “Like soaring above the clouds, feels like the sun is shining down on you and you only.”
He believed her because for one, his mother never lied, and two, he knows that her and his father were soulmates. Knew it by the way they looked at each other, the way they looked after each other, the way they heard each other loud and clear.
And as painful as realizing that Riley, no matter how much they love each other, isn’t his soulmate, it’s nowhere as painful as flying next to the man, watching him go down down down.
The echo of his own name lingers in Sam’s head as Riley plummets.
The second time around Sam’s convinced something’s truly wrong with him.
That there’s no way the universe detests him so much that it made him love flying only to reward him with watching his only love fall to the ground. That the same universe put him face to face again with another blonde-haired, blue eyed soulmate and it still isn’t right.
Steve is great, honorable and brave like Riley.
Headstrong and stupid as hell just like Riley too.
And when Steve says Sam’s name, Sam can hear it but it sounds faint, like wisps of smoke curling around his ear drum. But life can’t be that cruel can it? Can’t put someone else in his life that’s perfect for him, challenges him, makes him feel alive in a way he was certain he would never experience again, just to reveal that after he’s come so close to finding true love for the second time, it’s just another false alarm.
But apparently it can, cause he loses Steve too.
As the battle fades away and eventually, as Sam does too, he can hear Steve calling his name again.
But he can’t answer back, too busy flitting through the same sky that took his Riley away too.
The third time around, Sam is convinced that something is utterly and truly wrong with him.
He’s back in the sky again, relishes the way the wind whips past his face, the way the sound of the skies drowns out all of the other noises, until the only thing Sam can focus on is going higher and higher.
He flies and he flies, graceful despite the weight of the world he carries on his shoulders — threatening to break his stride and his spirit all the same. He flies and he flies until the ground is only a blur to him, just an expanse of blues and greens. Sam flies and flies until the guilt that he still gets to enjoy this, still gets to soar while Riley fell, takes the air out of him and he’s yearning for the solid feel of the ground beneath him again.
He’s landing, grounding himself in more ways than one, when he hears it, loud and clear.
And it’s just his luck that Bucky, fucking Bucky of all people would be his soulmate.
Bucky, who’s Steve’s friend, and by extension, kinda his friend too. Bucky, who he’s fought wars over and fought wars with. Bucky, who’s lived more lifetimes than Sam will ever get to experience, cause even death can’t seem to hold Bucky down.
It’s Bucky, the solid presence in Sam’s life, sturdy and unwavering. Loyal past the end of the line. A good soldier and a better man and oh.
Along with the clarity in which Sam’s heard his name comes another kind of epiphany that threatens to knock Sam off his feet.
All of his life, he’s chased the thrill of flying, chased lovers that gave him that same sort of feeling.
Sam would have never guessed his soulmate would be so stable.
Bucky isn’t like Riley, he isn’t like Steve either — he’s cautious, forebearing in a way the blondes weren’t. Cautious and calculating and Sam realizes he never needed someone that would run head first into the fire, willing to lay it all on the line at a moment’s notice.
He needed someone with a survival instinct, someone who planned to make it back home at the end of a mission and did everything in their power to will it so.
Because Sam’s loved and he’s lost and then he did it all over again and it’s not nearly as poetic as Tennyson made it out to be.
He needs someone to stay for once.
And by the way the other man smiles at that, timid and exploring, hopeful all of the same, Sam knows that he’s found the one.
a/n: this was my first time with this trope, i hope i did it justice!