#james buchannan barnes

Bucky?

Who the hell is Bucky?

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Warning(s): swearing,very sad bucky, mentions of PTSD, mentions of violence & psychological abuse

You were used to something waking you up between 3 and 4 A.M. every night. No matter how badly you tried to will yourself back to sleep, your slumber never came. So usually you made your way out into the kitchen to make some tea and maybe finish yesterday’s crossword.

This time was absolutely no different, except the kitchen had already been occupied. You stopped short, standing in the doorway silently for a moment to take in the scene playing out before you. Bucky sat in one of the barstools at the island counter, eyes and nose bright red. You watched a few tears stream down his cheeks. Now, you’d never been close to Bucky. He never made an attempt to get to know you, and you respected that. You gave him his space to get adjusted to life at the Compound, completely unbothered by his social circle only really including Sam, Steve, and occasionally Natasha. Cap had voiced to you and the rest of the team that Bucky still felt as though he was a danger to everyone around him; that he wouldn’t involve himself with the rest of the team until he knew that he wouldn’t be a hazard, a liability.

But the way Bucky watched his metal arm move with a mix of dejection and pure hate pushed you forward into the kitchen.

“Hey, Bucky,” you greeted, trying not to make it obvious that you’d seen him cry. You headed straight for the cabinet. Bucky didn’t respond, only sniffled and wiped his nose with his flesh hand. “Want some tea?” you asked, nonchalantly glancing over your shoulder at him as you reached up to grab your favorite mug.

He nodded slowly and you reached up to grab his mug. You began to make sleepytime tea for the two of you, not pressing for conversation any further. You put the kettle on the stove, doing your best not to look back.

“What’re you doin’ up?” Bucky inquired so quietly that you almost didn’t catch it. You glanced over at him only to see him watching you pensively, brows knit upward.

“Can’t sleep,” you answered. “Did you have another dream?” Bucky nodded timidly.

“It feels like they’re just getting worse the longer that I’m myself,” he admitted. You didn’t say anything, only leaned against the counter beside the stove. Bucky continued on, “And this…”  —Bucky gestured to his metal arm— ”this constant reminder of what I’ve done… it doesn’t help me much. And I never wanted to be a burden, so of course, I can’t talk about this with Steve… or… Nat or—” A look of panic crossed the Sergeant’s face; he looked as though he had become vexed with himself for opening up at all, especially to someone like you.

“You know, it’s okay to share things like this with me,” you began. “I don’t mind hearing it. You can’t expect to carry this weight alone forever.” Bucky smiled a little at this, but he didn’t look you in the eye. You wondered if it was some form of shame he carried, shame that he’d felt he was being so weak.

“I thought that I found a way out, you know? I really believed that if I ran, if I got away, I’d be alright… But there are reminders everywhere I go, everywhere I fuckinglook. The nightmares are still tearing me apart,” The soldier rested his hands on the countertop as the kettle began to whistle. You poured boiling water into the mugs and carried them to the island. You stayed on the opposite side of the counter though.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

“You know, I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say my name before,” you replied, giving him a warm smile. He sniffled again, taking a sip of tea.

“Yeah?” he chuckled, and that made you happy. But you could tell that Bucky was still unbelievably shaken by his most recent night terror. He, his eyes glued to the countertop, let out a heavy, shaky breath before speaking up again, 

“Can I tell you something?”

“Anything,” you answered, your smile falling a little.

“I’m so scared that I’m going to end up hurting, possibly killing, someone I really care about. It haunts me, Y/N.”

“Is that what you dream about?”

“Sometimes,” Bucky replied. You were a little surprised by his openness, his sudden willingness to talk to you, let alone tell you about his traumas. He continued, “and sometimes they’re not as bad. Sometimes I have dreams of when I wasn’t… when I wasn’t the monster HYDRA made me.” He rested his forehead in his right hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m just sorry that I’m unloading all of this on you; you shouldn’t have to even think about this.”

“Hey, I asked, didn’t I?” you asked comfortingly. In a moment of thoughtlessness, you rested a hand on his forearm. He jolted slightly. You yanked your hand away nervously.

“God, I’m sorry, Bucky,” It came out as a whisper. He looked you in the eyes finally, a small smile on his lips.

“No, I’m sorry. It just startled me. I didn’t expect it.” You raised your eyebrows at him.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Y/N. I’m sure.”

Before either of you could say another word, Steve came into your peripherals.

“Whoa, hey. Didn’t expect to see you both up,” the Captain commented, earning a small laugh from Bucky. His soft laugh caught you slightly off guard.

“Why’re you up, Cap?” you asked.

“I had to pee and heard you kids talking,”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” you replied.

“I’m older than you,” Bucky commented.

“Inconsequential information, Bucky,” Steve looked between the two of you, grinning. “I am glad you’re making friends.”

“I like her,” the soldier confirmed. Bucky gave you a smile before getting out of the chair. “I’m gonna try to get a little sleep, though. Thanks again, Y/N. ‘Night, guys.”

“Anytime, Bucky,” you said softly. Bucky raised his cup of tea to you before taking a long drink. He picked up his mug and headed right past Steve, back toward the bedrooms. Steve stood there for a moment, waiting until he heard the sound of Bucky’s bedroom door closing.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said. You cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Why’re you thanking me?”

“Just… for being a friend, I guess. It means a lot that you’d talk to Buck. He’s not so open with others anymore,” Steve explained. “I’m glad he’s starting to realize that no one sees him as the monster he thinks he is.”

“Anytime. I’m always up at this time anyway. He’s a good man,” you answered.

“Besides, I knew this would happen sometime,” Steve declared, beginning to head down the hall toward the fitness center.

“Why’s that?” you called after him.

“He thinks you’re cute!” the Captain laughed.

You spat out your tea, cheeks flushing red. “WHAT?”

I am so sorry I couldn’t be active lately. I seriously don’t know what’s wrong me. I have about 15 unfinished stories in my drafts but I have no idea how to continue them. Lately I don’t feel like doing anything. I cancel my plans, dates, and sit at home. I can’t even watch a movie or read a book without getting overwhelmed/bored. 

I am truly sorry, I am seriously trying to write to not keep you guys waiting but I just can’t. 

I hope to be back soon, I am trying to pull myself together.

I love you all, thank you for still following me! xo