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There was something almost tangible about the silence that filled the apartment.
The knock at the door was subtle, light. Almost as if it did not want to be heard. Bucky thought it probably would not have been, if not for his super soldier hearing.
Disturbed by nothing but the occasional sighs of discomfort that left it’s sole occupant— who had found himself curled up uncomfortably on the living room sofa.
The coffee table clock read 00:32 in a bright red that slightly messed with Bucky's eyes when he stared at it for too long.
With a grunt, he got up from the sofa and grudgingly dragged his feet to the door. For just a fraction of a second the thought of who the hell it might be flitted across his mind.
“Um....hey Buck.”
He thought his brain might have stopped working for a moment. Maybe he was dreaming again.
But when he clocked the way you kept picking at your nails as you tried to look anywhere but at him, it seemed to knock some sense into him.
“Hi.”
You found yourself fiddling with the buttons of the coat you were wearing— it was Bucky’s. It still smelled like him.
“It’s late, doll. What’re you doin’ out at this time?”
Bloodshot eyes met Bucky’s. Uncertainty and embarrassment swimming deep within. He felt his heart break into a thousand little pieces. Those eyes should never have known pain, it was unbearable to watch.
Finally gathering the courage, you looked up at him. Trying your level best not to let the burning sensation behind your eyes win.
“Could I come in?” The words had made their way out of your mouth before you could bite them back.
With a fervent nod and a hand at your back which put a gentle pressure, Bucky led you inside.
Silently, he led you to the sofa where he sat down with you. The warmth from where he had spent the last few hours had not yet dissipated completely.
“Hey, hey.....look at me.” Bucky started softly as he tried to persuade your gaze to him.
You felt like you were about to break. An icy hand reached out from within you as it cruelly wrapped it’s palms around your heart and squeezed with all it’s might.
Tears streaked down your cheeks, giving rise to an unstoppable waterfall. Everything was blurry, even the baby blue eyes that seemed as though they were gazing right into your soul, filled with so much concern and pain at the same time that it made you wonder for just a moment how it was possible.
And Bucky was pulling you towards his chest with an expression that suggested that maybe he'd been stabbed with a knife to his heart.
You gasped for breath as a chocked sob resounded within the room. Only after hearing the panicked ‘It’s okay doll, you're okay’s and ‘it’s okay, just breathe’s that seemed to last forever did you realise that the noise had come from you.
You were crying. Sobbing, so hard that you were almost curling in on yourself.
He rocked you back and forth for what seemed, at the same time, both like seconds and all of eternity, rubbing your back in what he hoped what a comforting pattern.
He greeted you with a quiet ‘Hey’ as he nudged the lone wisps of hair that had managed to fall over your face away with his fingers. “You wanna tell me what's on your mind?” Bucky prodded lightly. Hoping, praying you would let him in on whatever it was that was bothering you because seeing you like this, so wounded and vulnerable— to say it broke his heart would be a dire understatement.
Once the small, panicked gasps had eventually died out, with the lightest pressure possible Bucky slowly pulled you back up to face him.
A broken ‘Buck—’ was all that could make it's way out before your voice broke, strained and your throat raw courtesy of your burst of emotion earlier.
This was all still very new to Bucky. Being on the other end of the line. The receiving end. It was you, who more often than not had the pleasure (or perhaps it was a displeasure, one that you never let show) of welcoming a teary eyed Bucky on the verge of a meltdown, into your apartment.
And you would do whatever he needed to calm down and feel safe in that moment. Whether it was to just simply hold him or brew him a cup of the tea he loved and often associated with comfort, solely because it reminded him of you.
You broke the heavy quiet that had settled over you both again, clearing your throat in an attempt to complete your sentence. “I’m sorry I—” But apologising turned out to be the wrong move, as Bucky immediately but firmly stopped you in your endeavour, dropping a barely-there kiss on your forehead. “You don’t need to apologise. Ever.”
Now it was his turn to give. To hold you and whisper reassuring words into your temple as he offered to brew you a cup of the tea that had at this point in his life, become an unavoidable part of it. Along with you.
“What can I do for you? Please, I want to help.” Bucky pleaded, desperate to find a solution, because now the universe was really screwing with him, messin’ with his girl like this.
“Just....stay with me.” Your answer came out muffled from where you had your face securely tucked into the curve of his neck.
His arms tightened around you, pulling you impossibly close to himself.
“I’ll stay for as long as you need.”