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Bittersweet was the only word Bucky could think of to describe how it felt to tell Yori the truth, but it still didn’t feel like it fit. It didn’t reach deep enough. It didn’t even skim the surface of what he was feeling when he walked out of Yori’s apartment.
The word ‘bittersweet’ made it sound like there was only two things sides to what he was feeling, which was a complete fucking lie. Because, yeah, maybe part of him was glad, or relieved, or whatever this weird, light feeling in his chest was, but that’s not nearly all that was swirling around in his head.
He couldn’t even decipher most of it. There was just too much.
But there was one thing that stood out to him, and that was the familiar feeling like he’d just lost something. Something he was going to miss, or that he already did.
“...and that was me.” Bucky’s voice was shaking, but he needed to say it.
“Why?”
Bucky had expected a lot of different reactions, most of them negative, like the ones he’d gotten from the other people he’d already made amends with. He didn’t expect that reaction, however.
“I didn’t have a choice.”
It took him a long time - too long, maybe - to reach that conclusion. Sometimes he still wasn’t sure about it, but he stuck by it. He didn’t know what he might become if he didn’t.
Yori was quiet for a long moment, and Bucky stayed silent. He waited. Yori glanced over at the picture of his son on the mantle, surrounded by flowers and candles.
“I would like to be alone, please.”
Bucky had just nodded and risen from his seat, walking to the door and slipping out into the hallway silently. Maybe if he was quiet enough, Yori would forget he was ever there.
Now he was walking back to his apartment building, and he felt light and heavy at the same time like heaven and hell were playing tug of war with his soul. He was pretty sure he knew where he’d end up.
Twice, he fumbled to slide his key into the lock on his front door. After the third try, he fell through the door and, without even stopping to kick off his boots, went into the living room and flopped onto the edge of the couch.
He felt trapped, like every muscle in his body was tight and he needed to move or do something .
So he took out his phone.
told Yori
The message was short, but he knew Sam would understand. They’d talked about Yori, and everything else. Well, almost everything. There were some things that Bucky wasn’t ready to disclose, or that he still needed time to fully process.
Before Bucky could reflect on when exactly talking became a thing that he and Sam did, his phone was ringing. He answered it almost instantly.
“You told him?”
Bucky let out a sigh. “Yeah.”
Sam was silent for a few moments.
“Do you need me to fly down?”
Bucky smiled. Of course Sam would drop everything to help someone in need, it was one of the things Bucky loved most about him.
“No, it wasn’t- I’m okay. It was hard, but I’m okay,” Bucky reassured him, and he surprised himself with his own honesty.
“So it went well, then?”
“It…” Bucky took a moment to consider his answer, because, truthfully, he hadn’t considered whether it actually went well or not. “It went as well as it could have, I think.”
Bucky thought he heard the gentle crashing of waves on the other end of the line, and he imagined Sam walking along the beach, the moon reflecting off the ocean.
“Are you two still good, or…?”
For some reason, the question stung. It wasn’t like he had expected he and Yori to still be friends after he told him the truth, but it seemed like actually being asked about it made it sink in just a bit deeper. He cleared his throat.
“Well, when I told him, he asked me why. I told him that I didn’t have a choice and he said he wanted to be alone, so-”
Bucky’s voice broke off, tears clogging his throat instead of wetting his cheeks. Why was he getting so emotional? He knew things would end like this with Yori.
“Buck?”
“I don’t know,” Bucky blurted, too quickly, he knew. He cleared his throat so that hopefully Sam wouldn’t notice just how close the dam was to bursting. “I don’t think we- he probably doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore.”
And that did it. That one admission had the first tear falling, sliding down his cheek, like rain down a window pane, or blood down cold, dead fingers.
Sam was quiet.
“Are you sure you don’t need me to come over? I can be there in a few hours.” Sam’s voice was gentle. He knew because that’s what he did. He saw through Bucky as no one else could.
“No, I’m good,” Bucky said. He felt like a record stuck on repeat. “I mean it, I am okay. I just-” He sucked in a deep breath and leaned back on the couch, tipping his head up to stare at the ceiling. “It hurts? I spent so long getting close to him. He was my friend, Sam. I’m gonna miss it, having someone to say hi to and having someone to eat lunch with every week and- I’m just gonna miss him.”
“I get that. It’s normal,” Sam reassured him, and Bucky knew that, but it felt good to hear it, anyway. He wiped at his tears but more just replaced them. “Do you feel better, though? Now that you’ve told him?”
“Yeah,” He said, instantaneously. There was no doubt in his mind that he felt better. “Is that wrong? That telling him that I killed his son made me feel better?” It felt wrong, and it sounded wrong to say it.
“No.” Sam’s answer was just as fast as Bucky’s. “You said that he never knew what happened to his son. But doing what you did- it gave him closure. He knows, now. Even if it hurt to find out, at least he knows.” Somehow Sam’s words made Bucky start crying harder. He had to force back a sob because he didn’t want to completely break down while on the phone with Sam.
“And, hey,” Sam quipped, “you never know, he might still want to be friends. Maybe not right now, maybe not for weeks, or months, but he might not be gone forever. Give him space, and give him time. He needs to process as much as you do.”
Bucky let out a choked sob at that.
“How are you so optimistic?” His voice was croaky, but he figured there was no hiding his crying anymore.
Sam laughed. “Dunno. Maybe it comes with the shield.”
Bucky found himself huffing out a laugh of his own, and he wondered how the fuck Sam managed to make him laugh at a time like this.
“Hey,” Sam began, his tone light, “I was gonna ask you this tomorrow, but we’re having a thing this weekend- a cookout with the folks around here. You, uh...if you want, there’s a spot for you at our table.”
Sam seemed apprehensive, a tone that Bucky couldn’t recall hearing from him before. Something swelled in his chest.
“Are you sure?” Bucky teased. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”
“Shut up, asshole. You coming or not?”
“Of course, dumbass. I’ll be there.”