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The bed was more unforgiving than usual. Your side was still neatly made, Bucky never dared rolled over onto it, scared to corrupt what traces of you that remained. Sometimes he’d rest his head close to your pillow, though. If he tried hard enough, he could still get a small waft of the sweet scent that still lingered. Lavender. It was the detergent you used when you lived together. Funnily enough, while you were there he never made much note of it. Now that you were gone, he picked up on every little detail.
The day you walked out, he couldn’t bring himself to move anything. Your toothbrush still resided next to his in the bathroom. The books you’d bought recently still remained neatly in the cabinet where you’d left them, slowly collecting dust. Even when he came home, out of habit he’d still call out your name, occasionally looking around for you until he realized. Nothing but a forlorn echo would respond, informing Bucky he was alone. Again.
Bucky’s tired eyes lingered over to the clock to see it mockingly flash a bright 3:21 A.M. A deep sigh escaped from his chest as he stared at the ceiling. Impatiently he awaited sleep to consume him again. Time passed and his eyes refused to remain shut. He couldn’t stop thinking about everything.
He couldn’t help himself any longer. He sat up and reached for his phone. Without a second thought, instinctually his hand began to dial your number. Bucky didn’t know if you were up. He didn’t know if you would answer. He wasn’t sure if you’d even want to talk. But he had to try, right?
You were awakened by a buzzing noise on your night stand. Groggily, you turned over to grope around for your phone until your hand located it. In an attempt to read who was calling, your eyes were met with an aggressively bright screen. With a groan, you answered the phone. It must be important if someone is calling this late.
“Hello?”
Bucky could feel his body shuddering. He still couldn’t decide if he was glad you picked up the phone or not. He wasn’t sure if this was really happening, honestly. Perhaps this was a dream or some idealization he had concocted to cope with his return to solitude.
“Hello?” your voice asked again, ready to hang up.
No, not a dream. This was all too real. If he were dreaming, he wouldn’t have called. Instead, he could have simply rolled over to wrap an arm around you and return to slumber.
“Hey,” he mumbled softly, still astounded by the sound of your sleepy voice. He didn’t realize how much he missed your tone until he got to hear it again.
“Oh, Buck, hey… is everything alright?” You were taken aback by the sudden call from Bucky. You two were never official, but you had shared a very intimate relationship with one another.
“I don’t know,” he answered, more honestly than he’d intended. He felt panic and insecurity setting in. I shouldn’t have called. She hates me, this was a mistake. “I’m sorry, I probably woke you up over nothing.” He couldn’t bring himself to say goodbye with weak hopes you’d want to stay on the line.
“Did you have a nightmare again?” Bucky melted as you spoke. Your voice created such a tender melody that wrapped around him in the darkness. For a moment, he wasn’t alone. Only a moment, though.
He cleared his throat in a vain attempt to rid of the gruffness and fatigue that plagued his voice. “Something like that.”
You sat up on your bed now, preparing yourself for a full on conversation. I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be entertaining him. Pathetically you searched for the strength to hang up, to tell him he shouldn’t have called, but it never manifested. As badly as you didn’t want to want him, you missed him. A beat passed.
“Want to go for a drive?” His sudden proposal shocked both of you alike. You sat there in a stunned silence, internally battling with yourself.
“Yeah.”
Damnit.
“I’ll see you in five.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
You clicked the hang up button absentmindedly before you let out a quiet fuck. The day you left, that was supposed to be it. Bucky was a good guy, but you didn’t want the same things. You both decided it was best to go your separate ways. There was no yelling, no tears, no indication of anything emotion past neutrality; it just made things easier.
You’d only packed the essentials back into your bag. There wasn’t much as Bucky and you had only lived together on and off for roughly two months. Certain items you chose to leave. It hurt too much to take your toothbrush home, so you opted to buy a new one when you got back. It was the small details that made the weight of what was happening too real. If I take the toothbrush, then I won’t have anything to use when I stay over. Except, there won’t be anymore staying over.
Both of you exchanged insincere promises, affirming you’d call each other, that this hiccup wouldn’t get in the way of the friendship you previously shared. As meaningless words bounced back between the two of you, internally you both knew it wouldn’t be the same. As Bucky placed your suitcase in your trunk, you two pondered for a moment. Your hands were grasped firmly around the steering wheel as he stared down at you from the outside of the car.
He swallowed hard. Bucky wasn’t sure what to say, but he knew he needed to say something, anything. As you exchanged final goodbyes, he took a brief moment to study your face one last time. He knew he’d see you again, but not like this. He studied your cheek, the ones he used to caress his coarse fingers against. He admired your knuckles, now slowly turning white from grasping the wheel so hard, the ones he’d trace his hands over. He took a mental picture of the forehead he used to dote on, decorating it with gentle kisses whenever he could steal the time to.
“Buck?” you spoke out, noticing his eyes glazing over as he watched you prepare to pull out of the driveway.
“Yeah, doll?” He winced. No more doll. No more you. Just, no more.
“Take care of yourself.”
“Of course. Same to you.” He let out a weak smile. As you drove off back to your place, he cursed himself. All those moments of intimacy and vulnerability, all of that to be boiled down to anticlimactic goodbye. As you continued on the road, he could feel heat rising in his throat and his chest feel weighted.
I’m a damn fool.
But it was for the best. At least, that’s what Bucky told himself the day you parted ways. Now here you were, waiting impatiently on your couch for Bucky to knock at your door. You quickly changed out of your pajamas to more public appropriate attire before you heard a soft knock at the door.
Taking a breath in, you opened the door and greeted the sleepy soldier with a smile. “Hi, Buck.”
“Hey, Y/N.”
“Where to?” you asked, following him to his car.
“I heard the park is nice this time of night.”
You nodded in agreement as he opened the door for you, allowing you to enter the car. It was a familiar sensation you hadn’t enjoyed in a while. He adjusted himself into his seat before pulling off into the night road.
A beat of unbearable silence passed between you, neither knowing what to say in the moment. Bucky had mapped out countless times what he’d say if he was given the chance, what he could do to make it right. You had practiced thousands of scenes where you told him about everything. How much you missed him, how much you hated him, how much you wanted it all back.
“How’s work?” he questioned, hoping to start some form of small talk.
“Work’s work,” you answered plainly, still processing all that was happening. “You?”
“I’m on hiatus right now.”
“Oh. Since when?” When you lived together, he spoke of going on a break for a while, but you didn’t expect it to be so soon.
Since we broke up. Two months. I can’t stop thinking about you.
“You know, just a week or so. Nothing permanent, I just need time to figure stuff out.”
The rest of the ride, you sat in silence, being lulled by the muffled sounds of the occasional car passing by. Neither of you really knew what was happening or what you wanted at that moment. Closure, perhaps? It all felt so fuzzy, like trying to see through a cloudy fish bowl. Slowly, Bucky’s car came to a halt and you two hopped out of the car, approaching a nearby streetlight to stand under. The location offered a wonderful view to a small lake, reflecting the light of the moon and street lamps alike off its glossy surface.
You both stared out at the body of water, taking everything in. The last time you’d been there you went on a date, your last one. In an odd way, it felt like the proper place to have a conversation about what happened.
“Doll, c’mon it’s not the cold,” Bucky laughed in your direction.
“Bucky, I’m fucking freezing,” you chattered, only ankle deep within the lake water. It was a gorgeous, sunny day. One of the first of the season and Bucky had insisted on taking you to the park. A few feet ahead of you he stood, jeans rolled up and almost knee deep in the water.
As you pouted there, arms crossed and grumpily complaining, he let out a light chuckle. In an attempt to offer you some encouragement, he reached out his palm to you and approached. Hesitantly, you walked towards him, slowly sinking deeper into the water.
“How are you not cold,” you laughed, shocked from the cold sending itself up your veins, shaking your whole body.
“Your smile is as bright as a thousand suns, doll.”
“Shut up.”
“You adore me.”
“I do,” you gave in, grinning as your grasp tightened around his hands. Now you both stood knee deep in the water, admiring the view.
As you two held hands, you felt a sense of urgency come over you.“Bucky, I love you.” The words tumbled out of your mouth sloppily. You didn’t intend on saying them, they just came flying out. Doesn’t that make them all the more sincere, though? You weren’t a hundred percent sure you had even said them yourself until Bucky turned to look at you.
His words got caught in his throat. He didn’t know what to say back. No labels were ever put on what you had, but it definitely something special, something romantic. His eyes traced your features, searching for any signs of jest or sarcasm.
He felt his stomach drop when he registered your sincerity.
I’ve deceived you into thinking I’m someone I’m not.
You don’t want this.
You don’t want me.
Damnit.
I’m sorry.
He shifted his entire body to look at you now. Your heart rate picked up as the seconds passed, terrified he didn’t feel the same. His facial expression was unreadable, try as you might have, you couldn’t gauge how he was feeling.
“I-… I don’t think you want that.” Those were the words he landed on.
“I’m sorry, what?” You still couldn’t tell whether he felt the same or not. I mean, it wouldn’t be foolish to assume he liked you back. You’d lived together for nearly two months, shared the same bed, kissed every inch of the other, comforted the other when nightmares struck in the middle of the night. If that wasn’t love, what was?
“Doll- Y/N. I really like you and I really like this, but you don’t want my mess. I’m sorry, I can’t. I want to more than anything, but I can’t.” Words were panickedly flying out. He so desperately wanted you to understand why he felt he couldn’t pursue a real relationship, but he felt like an ass attempting to explain himself.
“So you can take me out on dates, have sex with me, and all the other stuff that comes with a relationship, but we can’t be in a relationship?” You could feel your throat sting as emotions came rushing out.
“It’s not that simple,” he tried to ration, cupping his hand around your face.
“I think it is, Bucky. If we can’t do this for real, we can’t do this at all.” You brushed his tender hands off your face, hurt. You loved him, but there came a time to put your foot down. No one got to use you at their convenience, not even Bucky.
“I can’t make you understand.”
“Try me.”
“What if he’s still in there?” His voice was low and solemn. The only indication that he might cry was the small crack it let out when he said ‘he’.
You were taken back by his sudden emotion. Bucky and you were close, but he never was one to easily crack. But now, there he stood, ready to collapse from shame and guilt. You contemplated arguing with him or comforting him in a warm embrace.
“I think I should leave.” You did neither. You calmly spoke. You decided this was the rational decision. It was fun while it lasted, great even, but now the time had come. You both knew this would happen eventually, it was all a matter of when. Foolishly, you both had pushed the notion aside.
Now there Bucky and you stood, realizing this was it. Realizing there was a reason you never got to move in officially. Realizing there was a reason you didn’t place a label on your relationship. Realizing you both saw the end as it all began. It was a dreadful thing, to sense a tragedy and still play into the story. What else was there to do? You two were supposed to be different, this bond was supposed to be unbreakable. It wasn’t though. Insecurity had crawled its way into Bucky’s mind again and severed the chains that held you together.
Bucky didn’t want to feel like a burden anymore. He was tired of the nightmares. The ones that involved your screams at the Winter Soldier’s hands. His hands. He hated himself more than he ever had around you. He loved himself more than he thought he could because of you. But now it was time to let go, because that’s what people in love do, right? Even if it hurts and claws away as your heart screams, pleads for you to stop, you let the girl go. Because then it’s impossible for you to hurt her. Because you couldn’t give her the universe she deserved to hold in the palms of her hands. Because the next best thing was to give her a chance at a normal relationship. Because all you brought was suffering. Because you love her, you say goodbye.
Please don’t go.
Not again.
I need you.
I want to be able to love you like you deserve.
I want this.
I want you.
I’m sorry.
“Okay,” he swallowed, a man defeated by his own self-sabotage. He contemplated pleading or maybe even breaking down crying right there, but that wouldn’t be fair. He should have cut it off sooner. He couldn’t fathom the fact that someone could love him so he never pursued breaking it off. There he was, letting go the one person he was sure who’d ever really love him for him. It felt like his chest was splitting open from the outside, shattering each piece of him.
The same night, you quietly packed and left. You promised to be friends, to keep in contact. You knew it wasn’t personal, but damnit if it didn’t hurt. Bucky swore that he’d never let anyone in again that night. That way, he couldn’t hurt any else. Ever. Not that anyone else could compare.
“I’m sorry,” he spoke, still keeping his focus on the lake in front of you both.
“For what?” you responded, turning to look at his side profile.
“Everything. I was selfish and I should’ve-”
“You’re forgiven,” you interjected softly. “It wasn’t you, it wasn’t me, it was circumstance, Bucky. I won’t blame you for that.”
Bucky somehow felt worse after that. You were so understanding of him, you never held his past against him. His head drooped down as he collected his thoughts. He felt like he was drowning in his own consciousness again, sucked in a whirlwind of doubt.
“Can I ask why you brought me out here? The view of the lake is nice, but I want the real reason.”
He turned to look at you. “I just wanted to see you.” At that moment, he could sink into himself. He’d crumble into you if you’d let him.
“Bucky, we can’t do this…” you trailed off. You wanted to see him just as much as he wanted to see you, but it stung. It reopened wounds you convinced yourself had healed. Just standing here gave the hopeless illusion that everything could go back to the way it was.
“I love you,” he announced loudly, blue eyes wide with passion and pleading.
“Don’t say that. Please, don’t say that now,” you returned with a pained expression. Don’t make this harder.
“You don’t have to say it back.”
“Bucky-”
“I’ll wait until you want me back,” his hands had travelled their way to your hands, lightly wrapping around yours as he professed further.
“Bucky, I’m serious.”
“I’m serious too. I’ll wait. I’ll wait a week, a month, a year. I’ll wait until my hair goes grey and my eyesight fails. I’ll wait until the world floods and the stars burn out. I’ll wait from six feet under ground, I don’t care how long it takes, I’ll wait for you.”
“What if I don’t want this anymore?” you snapped, anger overcoming you for a second. He couldn’t do this again, you shouldn’t have to put up with the heartbreak again. This night was supposed to be a true goodbye, the final bow. It now appeared this was only Act II of this lover’s tragedy.
“I’ll wait for another lifetime to come by then. I’ll wait as long as there’s a sliver of a chance that you want me too. I’m well acquainted with self doubt ruining relationships. But I’m sorry.” He never raised his voice to meet your frustration, but instead remained sincere in his expression. If this was the last time he got to say how much you meant, he’d make it worth it.
“Give me another chance and I’ll be the best damned man you ever had. I’m so fucking tired of pretending I don’t need you. You make every place light up and, Doll, right now I’m missing my sun. If you let me, I’ll make you the happiest girl in the world.” He spoke passionately with the courage he wished he could’ve found months ago.
“You promise me,” you said, tears threatening to pool in your eyes. “I love you, but promise me, damnit.”
“I swear on my life I’m here to stay,” he affirmed, gently placing his flesh hand on your cheek, thumbing an escaped tear off your face.
You sniffled and let out a smile, gently placing your hand atop of his. The simple pleasure of feeling him again was a gift in itself. Bucky’s arms travelled their way down to your waist and pulled you in for a tender kiss. His lips lingered on your skin for a moment, hoping he’d never have to part from you again; nothing felt as divine as you. It was a soft kiss, working slow and lovingly in its motion. Your fingers found their way to Bucky’s hair, slowly running through the soft locks as you continued.
He was never going to say goodbye to you again. Ever.