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Bucky wakes up with a pit in his stomach and a voice in his head telling him he’s all alone. There’s a distantly familiar feeling filling his chest, spreading through his body at an alarming rate.
Loneliness is never something he lets himself feel. He’s scared it will swallow him whole if he does, and when you hate humans, it’s easy to convince yourself you don’t need anyone. But today the feeling is overpowering, and he’s only just woken up.
Where the loneliness comes from, he has no clue. He has people around him. Maybe not the people he wants, besides Steve, but people none the less.
He takes a deep breath before rolling over, seeking Steve’s touch. He receives what he wished for as Steve reaches out to pull Bucky closer to him.
Still, the way Steve smiles at him makes him feel weirdly empty, like it doesn’t matter as much. Bucky pushes down the thought, deciding this will be a better day. He’s not going to let this weird loneliness ruin it. Bad day, sure, that’s out of his control, but it will be better than this.
“Ok?” Steve asks, sensing something in the air.
“Just woke up Steve, tired.” Bucky smiles back. He has no reason to feel lonely, he’s not alone by any means. At least that’s what he tells himself.
He does his breathing exercises before getting out of bed, eats even though he’s not hungry and puts up a front so Steve won’t notice his mood. The last thing he needs is questions that will bring him further into this funk.
Bucky decides to do yoga after breakfast. It sometimes helps him let go of tenseness and obsessive thoughts that cause negative emotions. Steve goes for a run while Bucky does his yoga, knowing Bucky likes his space to focus on his breathing and the flow of the movements.
As he moves through the poses, his eyes keep leaking tears. He’s not crying, it’s more like his body letting go of pent-up emotion, and he has no control over it. He can’t move his arm to wipe his face, so the tears run down his neck or into his hair. It’s a weird sensation, having tears escape his eyes at such a rapid pace without the emotions of crying.
He cleans himself up before Steve gets back, erasing any trace of the tears. He still feels off, but his mood has significantly improved. He cuddles with Alpine on the couch as he thinks about what he felt this morning. He decides it must have been some lingering effect from a dream he can’t remember and moves on.
Bucky hears Steve in the door and sits up, keeping Alpine in his lap. She doesn’t like the movement and jumps down, settling on the carpet. There’s a weird pang of something in Bucky’s chest.
“Enjoy your yoga?” Steve asks as he enters the living room.
“Yeah. I’m getting better at it, so that’s nice.” You’d think yoga would be no problem for a super soldier, but the intense combination of balance, strength, and flexibility you need to use at the same time is hard, even for him. Granted, he didn’t exactly start with the beginner videos, that would be too easy. “Enjoy your run?”
“Always do.” Steve kisses him before slipping into the bathroom to take a shower.
The silence Steve leaves is deafening. With nothing to distract him, his thoughts start spinning again. He finds himself thinking about the howling commandoes. Wondering how their lives turned out. They grew so incredibly close during the war, and suddenly it was just over. Why has he never tried to find out what happened to them? Did they get married? Have kids? Were they happy after the war was over?
So many questions Bucky doesn’t know how to answer. His memories go further back. Being drafted, lying to Steve about it. He planned on staying in Brooklyn with Steve, take care of him, keep him out of trouble, and look what happened. They could have lived normal lives together. There would be no Winter Soldier, no Captain America. Just Bucky, and Steve.
He misses Steve sometimes. The Steve from his memories. He loves who Steve is now, but the small, sickly idiot Steve he was back then was someone else. And he never got to say goodbye. He never told that Steve how much he loved him, and then suddenly Captain America had taken his place.
“Bucky?”
Bucky’s head snaps up to meet Steve’s eyes. He realizes he’s crying too late, Steve has already seen, but wipes the escaped tears anyway, putting on a smile. Steve moves over to him, wrapping him in a tight hug.
“What’s wrong?” Steve asks; not fooled by Bucky’s fake smile. Bucky shakes his head into Steve’s shoulder, not sure what to say. What is there to say when he left so many people behind and never even checked if their lives turned out okay? The thought stings.
You have Steve, he tells himself, he’s different but the same. It’s the same as missing five-year-old Steve. People change all the time; you’re allowed to miss who they were while also loving who they have become.
He has Natasha. She has also changed a lot since he first met her. Same goes for Sam. Even Alpine is different. He misses kitten Alpine so much sometimes too, but he loves her even more now, because he knows her better now.
“Just thinking.” He finally says. Leaving out the overthinking-about-everything part. “You ever think about them?” his voice sounds distant.
“About who?”
Bucky doesn’t want to talk about this. It’s too much. If he says what he’s thinking out loud, it will be so much more real, and he can’t handle any more.
“Forget it, doesn’t matter.” He says, hoping Steve will let it go.
Silence settles over them. Steve keeps holding him close, knowing something’s bothering Bucky, but not pushing him to talk about it.
Bucky goes on autopilot the whole day. He joins Steve for another run, is active in conversation, and does everything right. He reminds himself to breathe, does more yoga to help the tension in his shoulders and tries to think positively.
Still, he doesn’t feel better. How are you supposed to turn a bad day better when none of your coping mechanisms help? He gives up trying. Maybe he feels so bad because he’s so focused on the pain in his chest. It would be better to just let it be there and try to ignore it all together.
Bucky isn’t hungry when Steve puts dinner on the table. In fact, he feels the opposite of hungry. Like he’s so full he can’t possibly eat anything. Steve keeps glancing at him as Bucky only picks at his food.
The frown of worry has been on Steve’s face for so long Bucky feels guilty for worrying him. Just another thing to add to the list of guilt. Not only did he abandon everyone he cared about, but he’s also ruining the only relationship that survived.
Can you even grieve someone you haven’t talked to in eighty years? Surely you should be over it by then, right?
“How about we go for a walk?” Steve suggests after a while of silence.
“Yeah.” The open space and room to think is exactly what Bucky needs right now. He is amazed sometimes at Steve’s ability to just look at Bucky and know what he needs.
They put on their shoes and go outside. The air is still warm from the day, but the sun is setting. The smell of summer is in the air. It makes his stomach hurt with anxiety.
They walk in silence for a while. Bucky looks up at the treetops as they walk through the woods. They walk the same path every time; first through the trees, then through the city and back alongside the railway.
The woods are enveloped in darkness, the setting sun barely reaching through the trees. When Bucky looks up the sky is dark grey, the moon shining brightly above them. Bucky feels like there are eyes looking at him from every angle. Hundreds, thousands hiding between the trees.
When the path leads them into the city, Bucky is relieved. The streets are lit up here, no room for eyes to hide and watch him.
The feeling of being watched is replaced by the loneliness. As they walk past houses Bucky imagines the families that live there. Maybe they have friends over, or the whole family is enjoying a Saturday night together. Bucky can’t even remember the last time his whole family was together.
It makes him think about them. Did they know what happened to him? Did they spend the rest of their lives grieving his death, oblivious to the life he was forced to live? Was his mom ever able to move on? Did his sisters get to live their life? Why hasn’t he tried to find out what happened to them either?
The guilt is crushing, sucking him in like a black hole.
Knowing they lived while he was brainwashed, making him miss out on their lives crushes him. Someone decided his life belonged to them, and Bucky was the one who suffered for it, not them. It should make him angry, but he just feels empty.
Taking a walk was supposed to help clear his mind. Instead, it’s doing the opposite. He can feel the emotions inside him, growing like he’s a ticking timebomb.
Bucky feels like he’s falling, and as he reaches for anything familiar it slips further away. Everyone and everything he usually surround himself with feels so distant. Even Steve who is walking right beside him feel miles away.
Every house they walk past is a reminder of a home he lost, every person a reminder of loved ones he never got to say goodbye to.
Bucky slows down to a stop as his thoughts race through his mind. It’s all too much. There’s not enough space in his head for all the thoughts intruding. He finds himself wondering whether his head will explode or implode when his skull can’t contain them anymore.
“Let’s take the bus back.” Steve mentions casually, snapping Bucky out of the prison in his head.
“What?” He feels disoriented, taking a moment to figure out where they are.
“The bus will be here in a few minutes.” Steve continues, acting so normal. Bucky wants to ask him if he has any idea what is going on in Bucky’s head, if he even cares, why is he acting so normal? But that would mean drawing attention to said things in his mind.
“Sure.” Bucky mutters. They walk to the bus stop right around the corner. Bucky is relieved. No more houses to walk past, no more people to meet, no more heavy air pushing him down. God, the air is so heavy today.
While they wait for the bus, Bucky starts feeling a little better. They’re going home; to Alpine, and to everything familiar. It won’t feel as distant when he can see the pictures on the walls, and every little piece of their life cluttered on the counters and tables.
He takes a few breaths, letting go of the anxiety that weighs him down. He doesn’t need it; it doesn’t do him any favors.
You’re okay. You’re safe. You’re relaxed. He repeats to himself. He convinces himself he’s fine as the bus turns around the corner. You’ll be home in less than ten minutes.
The moment Bucky steps on the bus it all comes rushing back. He holds his breath as they sit down. From in here, outside looks much darker. The lights are on, casting a yellow light over every surface. The other side of the windows look pitch black.
It sends Bucky’s heart into his throat. He feels the walls closing in as he struggles to breathe.
Two minutes, two minutes, two minutes. He repeats like a mantra in his head. It’s only two stops, it’ll take two minutes. He can make it two minutes without freaking out, right?
Memories pound against the inside of his skull. Sitting in the back of a van, feeling strangled by the mask they put on him, not being able to look out the dark windows. Waking up alone and in pain, in a brightly lit room, only darkness through the small window in the door.
Bucky stares at the screen showing the bus stops and times, willing himself to stay in the moment, to not let himself slip. The number switches to one minute.
One minute, one minute, one minute.
He just needs to make it that one minute and then they can walk the three minutes to their apartment, and he’ll be fine.
His lungs constrict in his chest, but he wills his breath to stay steady. God forbid anyone hear him breathing. Don’t attract attention.
The bell sound makes him jump as Steve presses the stop button. The bus slows down and stops. Bucky has tunnel vision as he gets off the bus, going straight for the bench at the stop. He just needs to catch his breath.
“Bucky?” Steve calls after him. Bucky doesn’t care, he needs to sit down. He hears Steve’s footsteps behind him, making his heart raise. They’re coming, they’ll take you, force you, hurt you.
He sits down heavily on the bench, slumping over, curling in on himself. He closes his eyes, fists clenched in his lap, breathing growing quicker. His heart beats so hard and fast he can feel it echoing in his head, every muscle is so tense he feels like he’s floating above the bench.
As the panic attack takes hold of him the only clear thought in his head is, not here, dear god, please, not here. Everything else is a mess of memories and flashbacks. It’s too much to make out any clear memories, like it’s all just a tangled mess of trauma.
“Bucky.” Steve squats down in front of him, resting his hands on Bucky’s knees. It sends sparks of panic through his body. A chocked off sound leaves him, making Steve remove his hands. “Buck, you need to breathe.”
“I am breathing!” Bucky snaps, the problem is he’s breathing too much. He looks up at the sky, seeing the moon shining. The same moon he saw in Siberia, in the Alps, in 1940s Brooklyn. The same moon he would look at with his sisters as he read to them before bed.
They lived their lives while he was being tortured. They thought he died. They lived their lives without him. He doesn’t know what lives they lived. He doesn’t even know what happened to them.
“I know. You have to breathe slower, deeper.” Steve says calmly, looking up at him. How the hell is he so calm?
Bucky tries to breathe calmer. He tries to relax, to calm down. It’s not possible. There’s too much shit in his head. The silence leaves room for so many thoughts.
“Okay, let’s try something else.” Steve says as Bucky keeps hyperventilating, shaking, making choking noises. “Look around you, where are you?”
Bucky tears his eyes off the moon, the shape still burning in his vision as he looks around him. There are cars driving past, streetlights lighting up the road in front of them. The sun has set, hiding them in the shadows.
“Brooklyn.” He says shakily. He notices how much he’s shaking. Like a leaf, ready to be taken by the wind.
“When?”
“2024.”
“That’s right. You’re here with me, safe.” Steve rests one hand on Bucky’s knee again, followed by the other when Bucky doesn’t react.
“Steve.” Bucky reaches out for Steve, suddenly wanting him close.
“And who are you?” Steve asks softly, trying to comfort Bucky while helping ground him.
“Bucky Barnes.” Bucky says shakily. Not the Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes. Another tear falls down his wet face, has he been crying this whole time?
“Yes, you are.” Steve smiles at him. “Take a deep breath.”
Bucky breathes. He feels his stomach expand as his lungs fill with the night air. The intrusive thoughts are pushing from all angles, but this time Bucky breathes, making it a little bit easier to fight them.
“Good. Keep breathing.” Steve urges him on.
In, out, in, out, in, out.
Bucky slowly calms down, feeling his body release the tension it was holding. He’s going to have a hard time moving tomorrow. Panic attacks make him so sore.
“I thought this might happen.” Steve says as he moves to sit beside Bucky, letting Bucky rest against his side.
“Yeah?” Bucky says, exhausted. It’s not like he didn’t see it coming himself, he’s just surprised Steve pays that much attention to him, especially with what a dick Bucky’s been all day. He can’t help it; the anxiety makes him on edge.
“Saw it coming from a mile away.” Steve says with a smile, trying to lighten the mood.
“Didn’t think you cared that much.” Bucky mumbles quietly, not expecting Steve to hear him.
“Of course I do. I love you, every part of you.” Steve says sincerely. “I know you’re having a bad day before you do.”
Bucky is unable to think of anything to say. What Steve just said is what he’s needed to hear all day. To know he’s not alone.
“Let’s go home.” Steve suggests. They can see their apartment complex from here, it’ll take less than five minutes to walk there even if they’re slow.
Bucky smiles tiredly at Steve. Panic attacks really take it out of him, but somehow, they’re comforting. Bucky knows they’re coming, and he knows what’s going on and that it will pass. He knows he’ll feel better soon after because the emotions need to be felt. Once he’s let them out, he settles back into his usual happy self.
Bucky wonders if it’s weird to think that way. But he’s become so familiar with the panic attacks, they feel like a part of his routine. A part he can’t plan, but a routine none the less. They happen every few weeks, sometimes months, and it’s not so bad considering where he comes from.
“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Steve asks, knowing Bucky usually likes to talk them through.
“I felt lonely today.” Bucky says as they walk down the street. He doesn’t want to go into detail today, feeling done with the anxieties. Besides, this isn’t the first panic attack he’s had for this reason, so Steve already knows what went through his head.
“I do think about them.” Steve tells the sidewalk.
“What?” Bucky is caught off guard, forgetting he asked Steve about it earlier.
“The people we left behind. Friends, the commandoes, your sisters. All the would’ve beens, could’ve beens and should’ve beens.”
“That was oddly poetic. Even for you, old man.” Bucky jokes, feeling his mood lightening up with every moment.
“You’re older than me.”
“Just one year.” Bucky points out. One year out of over a hundred is nothing.
“And three months and seventeen days.” Steve says with a smile, proud of himself.
“Wow, okay.” Bucky feigns hurt before bursting out laughing. He amazes himself with how quickly he bounces back every time this happens.
“You were a whole functioning human being when I was born.” Steve continues, laughing even as he says it. They laugh as they walk up to their front door, before settling in a comfortable silence.
“Seriously though, I think about them all the time. I wonder about them and their lives and how I would’ve fit into that.” Steve turns serious again when they walk up the stairs.
“Are you a mind-reader?” Bucky turns so he’s walking backward up the stairs and squints at Steve as if he’s trying to figure him out.
“Yes.” Steve says bluntly.
“That explains a lot actually.” Right then Bucky stumbles on a step and falls back, landing on the landing between the stairs. It was bound to happen. Even a super soldier isn’t meant to walk backward in the stairs.
Steve goes completely still, eyes comically wide. Bucky starts laughing again. It’s such a stark contrast to the emotions that were overwhelming him not even fifteen minutes ago.
“Gimme a hand.” Bucky reaches out for Steve, pretending he can’t get up on his own. Steve pulls him off the floor, still laughing at the situation.
“You really are a rollercoaster Barnes.”
“Good thing you like to ride me.” Bucky says, knowing full well how it’ll turn Steve red from his toes to his perfectly styles hair.
“What?” Steve gapes at him, going dark red. He looks around the hallway, seeming relieved when he sees no one.
“What?” Bucky asks calmly, feigning innocence. “It’s true.”