Chapter Text
The smile on Sam's face as he entered his home vanished when he saw his boyfriend on the couch, looking dejected.
"Darling, what's wrong? Is everything okay?" he asked, kneeling in front of him, trying to keep his tone gentle and not sound alarmed, especially when he noticed that Bucky had been crying.
Sam knew something was terribly wrong when Bucky wouldn't meet his eyes.
"I think we should break up." The pain pierced through Sam like a knife. He stood frozen for a moment, then put on his best Captain America face, cleared his throat to avoid his voice betraying him, and, rising to distance himself from the man he loved, said,
"Yes, I suppose you're right."
Bucky looked so miserable that Sam almost reconsidered, wanting to tell Bucky that whatever it was, they could fix it. But before he could say anything, Bucky got up, muttering that he would gather his things, and disappeared into the room they shared.
Sam remained frozen in place, torn between wanting to move and feeling utterly powerless. Later, Bucky emerged, carrying some of his belongings, finding Sam in the same position where he had left him.
"I think I have everything I need," he said awkwardly. Sam merely nodded. "Goodbye, Sam," he seemed to wait for a response from Sam for a few moments, but when none came, he left the living room, their shared home, and Sam's life.
"Goodbye, my love," Sam whispered to the closed door. It was at that moment that the tears he had been holding back broke free, and Sam cried for his loss.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Bucky wasn't so naive as to believe that being without Sam would be easy. He knew it would be the most difficult thing he had ever done, and it had been his choice. But he hadn't imagined how much he would miss Sam, how many everyday moments Sam had infiltrated, filling them with his essence.
Bucky would put on a load of laundry and think of Sam humming along while doing the same. He'd make the bed and remember how Sam scolded him for not arranging the pillows correctly. At breakfast, he'd think of Sam making his special Sunday pancakes and giving him a kiss as he handed over the plate... There were too many moments, too many memories.
Many times, he wanted to call Sam, apologize, and tell him he'd made a mistake. But then he'd remember that Sam had agreed, and he'd put down the phone, telling himself that, painful as it was, it was for the best.
Losing Sam likely meant losing the rest of the Wilsons and the other good folks in Delacroix, where Sam and Bucky always escaped whenever they had the chance. However, Cass's birthday was approaching, and Bucky wanted to give him a gift. So he wrote to Sarah:
"Hello, Sarah. How are you and the kids? I hope everything is well. I don't want to intrude, but I know Cass's birthday is coming up, and I'd like to give him a present if possible. Would it be okay if I come to give it in person? Alternatively, I can send it by mail or not give him any gift at all—whatever you prefer."
The answer came in the form of a call.
"Bucky? Why did you send that message? I expected you to come with Sam, as always. Is everything okay between you two?"
Sarah sounded worried, and Bucky cursed himself.
"Everything's perfect. I just wanted to make sure I wasn't bothering anyone," he clumsily lied. Of course, Sarah didn't believe him. She wasn't foolish enough to buy that excuse. Besides, Bucky had never worried about potentially bothering anyone—whether it was when he was with Sam, before they were together, or even when he surprised Sam with a Captain America suit. The lie was painfully obvious, but they could both play that game. So, Sarah pretended to swallow it.
"You never bother us, you know that. Well, we'll be expecting both of you. How about Friday afternoon? I can make my shrimp lasagna for dinner."
"That sounds great, Sarah. Thanks. I'll talk to Sam and confirm when we'll arrive."
Bucky thought he couldn't feel worse than he already did, but his conversation with Sarah proved him wrong. Yet, a strange glimmer of happiness flickered weakly in his chest, knowing he'd have to see Sam. But he was also terrified.
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After a day as Captain America, Sam just wanted to collapse on his couch and wallow in the misery of his breakup with Bucky. But life wasn't about to grant him that mercy.
The doorbell rang, and Sam considered not answering. However, when the person on the other side persisted, he mustered strength from an unknown reserve and opened the door. He couldn't tell if his heart stopped or raced faster when he found Bucky standing there.
"Bucky?"
"Hey, Sam."
"Did you forget something?"
"No, I..." Bucky hesitated, as if unsure how to continue. He sighed before saying, "You haven't told Sarah... about us."
"No, I haven't. If I'd known you were in such a hurry for her to know, I would've done it," Sam retorted, annoyed.
"It's not that."
"Then what is it? Is it always going to be like this? Are you going to disappear from my life without telling me why, only to come back and judge my life choices?" Sam's words were laced with hurt, recalling the incident with the shield. Bucky seemed as wounded as Sam felt, making him feel guilty.
"Sam..." Bucky unconsciously reached out to grab him, but Sam pulled away, breaking both their hearts. "It's not that. I'm not judging you—I'd never do that. Look, I didn't know. I thought you'd told her, and I messaged Sarah to see if I could bring a birthday gift for Cass. She called me, assuming we'd go together, and asked if everything between us was okay.
Sam melted a little as he watched how Bucky continued to worry about his family.
"Come in," Sam said, not wanting to continue that conversation at the doorstep. Bucky smiled a little, but it was a sad smile. He didn't really need permission to enter; the house belonged to both of them. Yet, it seemed like he had given Sam all the decision-making power. It was a nice detail, but it also felt like proof that this was no longer Bucky and Sam's shared space—it was now just Sam's.
They sat on the sofa, maintaining a prudent distance between them. Another sign of how things had changed: just a few days ago, they would have been glued together, not wanting even a hint of separation.
"So, does Sarah know?" Sam asked after an uncomfortable silence.
Bucky shook his head.
"I didn't want to interfere with your decision on when to tell her. I told her I just wanted to make sure I wasn't being a bother."
"And Sarah believed that?" Sam furrowed his brow; it didn't seem likely.
"I don't know," Bucky nervously ran a hand through his hair. "She said she's expecting us for dinner on Friday."
"And what did you tell her?"
"That I'd talk to you and confirm when we'd arrive."
"Okay... I'll call her and tell her the truth," Sam said, reaching for his phone, but Bucky gently stopped him by holding his wrist.
"Can I ask why you haven't told Sarah and the kids?"
Sam sighed.
"On one hand, I wasn't ready to talk about it yet. I guess I needed time for myself, to process it before sharing. On the other hand... I didn't want to break their hearts. You know how much they care about you, Buck. I didn't know if you'd still want to be part of their lives. I didn't know anything, and I thought it would be better to tell them when I went to Delacroix. Maybe do something fun with the kids to soften the news a bit—although I wasn't sure whether to do it before or after Cass's birthday. Later seemed right, but Cass would definitely want you there, and I wouldn't know how to explain your absence."
Another reason for not having told anyone was that Sam hoped Bucky would come back and everything would be fixed, but of course, he didn't say that. "But I guess giving the news now is as good as doing it at any other time."
"Don't do it," Bucky said, and for a brief moment, hope flickered in Sam. "We can keep the news hidden until after Cass's birthday. We'll go to Delacroix together, enjoy Cass's birthday, and then take them out to do something fun and tell them. And so it doesn't ruin the day, we could do something else afterward. Go to the movies or the arcade, have pizza, get ice cream... if you want."
"Let me get this straight," Sam said, "Are you suggesting that we go to Delacroix and pretend we're still together until Cass's birthday?"
Bucky nodded. Sam had mixed emotions—on one hand, he was angry about the proposal; on the other... it allowed him to do exactly what he intended without having to explain why Bucky hadn't gone with him. But it was going to be painful, damn painful, and it pissed him off that Bucky made it sound so easy, as if pretending that nothing had happened for a few days and then separating again wouldn't affect him.
Bucky remained silent, allowing Sam to take his time to decide, which was appreciated.
"Okay," Sam finally said after thinking it over, "Let's do it." He knew it would hurt, temporarily regaining Bucky only to lose him again would be torture and would shatter him completely, but he still wasn't ready to tell the truth to his family—or perhaps he simply wasn't ready to lose Bucky.