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Bucky’s bed doesn't feel right. It's too big and too cold and too empty and it makes him feel scared, like he's going to lose himself again. He can't let that happen. He can't.
So he doesn't use the bed. He sleeps on the floor, with nothing but a thin blanket and a shitty pillow. It's the only way he can catch some sleep, though he still doesn't sleep much. He is haunted each time he closes his eyes. He relives all the worst things he experienced over and over and over. He relives all the worst things he did, too. It's agony.
He doesn't tell the therapist. He doesn't tell anyone. This is his burden to carry. This is his fight. So what if he's getting worse? So what if his own shadow scares him? So what if he's staying awake at night to stop the nightmares? That's just his business. No one else's. He doesn't need their help. He doesn't need to taint them. They deserve better.
Steve deserves better.
Steve can finally reach everything he ever wanted. He doesn't need Bucky to bring him down. No. Bucky can't do that to Steve. He needs to let him go. Even though Bucky wasn’t himself yet, he knows that's why he left Steve by the river. He had to have known he wasn't worthy.
And really it's fine. It's all so damn fine. Who needs to sleep in a bed anyway? It's overrated. Bucky’s pretty sure there were times when people just didn't have beds. And beds these days are stupid anyway. Too huge. Back in the day, they had to share a bed. First Bucky and his siblings, then him and Steve. And it was a small bed. They really were cramped together, cuddling almost. That was better, Bucky thinks. Better than this empty space.
Bucky goes days without sleeping now. He can handle it. He can. He thinks. Once he goes 4 days without sleep and there's a knock on his door and nothing feels real anymore and everything is terrifying. Bucky opens the door with a gun in his hands. But it's not an enemy, it's just a ghost that's come to haunt him. It's just Steve.
"I don't sleep well without you," Steve says.
That's… that's just fucked up, Bucky thinks. He doesn't need sleep but Steve does. He doesn't know why there's a difference between them but clearly there's an issue if Steve’s not sleeping. Bucky doesn't like it when Steve has issues. It makes him worry. His chest gets all painful. He really doesn't like it.
So, he pulls Steve inside. "You need sleep," he says.
"Yeah, well," Steve says weakly.
"I have a bed," Bucky says. "It's too big but maybe it's good for you." He pauses. "After you sleep, we talk about how you found me."
"You got an apartment in the same building as me, was I meant to not find you, Buck?" Steve replies.
Bucky frowns.
"And they call me a shitty spy," Steve says.
"You are," Bucky finds the need to say, "you are very big and obvious and handsome. It's distracting. See you've distracted me again. You are meant to sleep."
"It's part of my charm," Steve says. Then he yawns.
"Sleep," Bucky says.
"Will you sleep with me? I don't sleep well without you," Steve says.
It is very important that Steve sleeps. So Bucky has no other choice. He has to sleep next to Steve. Even if it might taint Steve. It's worse if he dies from a lack of sleep, Bucky thinks. Sacrifices must be made.
Bucky gets in the bed next to Steve. It's not so cold now, he thinks, with Steve’s body radiating warmth. It used to be colder, sleeping together. Steve used to need the warmth. The bed isn't so big now either, Bucky realizes. Steve is a big man these days. Bigger, yes, but he was always handsome, his mind supplies. All in all, it's a lot better.
Bucky even falls asleep. He shifts into Steve’s arms during the night. It's the best sleep he has had since before the war. It's not just Steve who can't sleep alone.
Maybe, just maybe, Bucky needs Steve just as much. Maybe he can let himself have this.