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Bucky believed his past and his demons were an imposition. He was able to hide it well during the first few years you had together but slowly it wrapped the air thick with loss and indecision. He never wanted to burden you with it but he was selfish that he clung to what he could. Afraid to break up even if he knew it was for the best. Slowly he started pushing you away, despite it breaking his heart. He still tells you he loves you because it’s true, how could he stop? That was the one thing he was sure of. Although, how can he say that he loves you when he can’t tell you’re dying inside? Which brought you here.
Your eyelids flutter open in the bed you share. You woke up to him moving behind. His side is cold, and you’re glaring at him with storms in your eyes as you sit up, watching with a somber sensation as he ties up his boots on the edge of the bed.
Bucky can feel the hurt radiating off you, making his heart pang with guilt. He avoids eye contact as he laces up his boots in silence, knowing you can sense his impending departure.
“I’m going for a walk” he muttered, his voice quiet and graveled. He didn't want to look at you, not when he knew how the hurt would reflect in your gaze. Still, he could sense your watchful gaze, and it left a twisting ache to his chest. What more if he looked back at you?
“How long will you be gone?” You ask quietly, the blanket you shared brunched up underneath your grip as you watch him stand.
Bucky hesitated, his shoulders stiffening at the tension in the room. He didn’t want to turn around, to meet your gaze and see the hurt and disappointment in them.
“I don’t know,” he lied, his gruff voice betraying his internal struggle. “A few hours, maybe more.”
The words left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he could almost feel the weight of your unspoken questions and accusations hanging in the air.
“Okay” you mutter quietly, equally afraid to address the elephant in the room as you push down your own hurt, “be safe.”
You wanted to say more but you were afraid, you didn’t want to lose him but he was losing you.
As Bucky heard your resigned response, his shoulders slumped slightly, the guilt gnawing at him like an insatiable beast. He closed his eyes for a moment, warring in his head the urge to turn around and explain, to apologize for his distance, to hold you close like he hasn’t in months while he whispers apologies into your hair.
Your words, laced with a hint of sadness cut him so deep. He wanted nothing more than to tell you the truth, to explain what he was going through. But his fear, his guilt, and the weight of his pain kept him rooted in silence.
His voice was graveled and heavy as he made his way to the door. “I will.”
As you watch him walk away, you lay back down and turn your back on him. Not wanting him to see you break because you’d rather break silently than lose him.
He hears the soft sound of you shifting on the bed, Bucky’s heart sank even further. He knew you’d turned away, and he could almost sense the tears silently rolling down your cheeks.
He wanted to say something more, to turn around and apologize, to hold you close and wipe away those tears, but it was as if he were paralyzed. The weight of his own pain, his guilt, his fear... it all held him captive, leaving him helpless to watch as he slowly crumbled another piece of your heart.
Bucky hesitated at the door, his hand on the knob. He desperately wanted to look back, to catch a glimpse of you, even if he knew he was hurting you because he was selfish, his brain tells him.
But he didn’t. Instead, he clenched his jaw, his mind ridden with guilt of the image of your tear-stained cheeks, and murmured a faint, “Goodbye.”
With that, he turned the knob and stepped out that door without even so much as a backward glance.
His murmured goodbye felt like a final straw that left you in tears as he closed the doors. You feel the heavy sob boiling in your chest as you lay there.
As Bucky stepped outside, the cool night air brushing against his face, he couldn't help but freeze as he heard the muffled sound of your sobs coming through the door.
He cursed his enhanced senses, another curse Hydra has given him. His heart ached like never before, knowing he was causing you pain. Every fiber in his being yearned to go back inside, to chase away your tears. But he was glued to the spot, rooted in guilt and fear.
Every fiber of his being wanted to rush back inside, to gather you into his arms and whisper soothing apologies and confessions into your hair. He wanted, so badly, to reveal his fear to you, his pain, his guilt, everything he felt that he had kept hidden. But the words refused to come, stuck like thorns in his throat.
And he hated himself for it.
Bucky willed himself to move, walking away from the home he shared with you, leaving behind only his haunting silence and your heartbroken sobs that haunts him no matter how far he walked.
The night air, heavy with regrets, wrapped around Bucky as he wandered through the empty streets. His mind couldn’t escape the image of you, crying, abandoned to the loneliness of the bed meant for two.
His feet carried him on autopilot, while his mind battled with the guilt that consumed him. He knew he was hurting you, but the fear of burdening you with his pain had paralyzed him. Every step he took felt like he was leaving another piece of you behind, and it was tearing him apart.
In the heart of the night, Bucky finally came to a stop. He was in a quiet park, illuminated only by the pale moon and scattered streetlights. There, he let himself slump onto a bench, the cold seeping through his clothes, numbing his bones.
The night was eerily still, and he was alone with his racing mind and a heart filled with guilt and loneliness.
In those solitude moments of anguish, Bucky buried his face in his hands, letting the tears flow silently. The feelings that he’d held tight for so long finally broke, and a guttural cry escaped his lips, echoing through the empty park. It was like a dam breaking, years of unshed tears and unspoken pain flooding forth uncontrollably.
He thought he’d been protecting you, shielding you from the weight of his troubles. But all he had done was cause you pain and destroy the very thing he cherished most.
As the tears subsided, a wave of realization washed over him. He had been wrong. He had allowed his pain, his guilt, and his fear to take control, driving a wedge between the two of you and leaving you hurting in ways he never thought possible.
The weight of his actions crashed over him like a tidal wave, bringing with it a wave of desperation and regret. He wanted so badly to turn back time, to take back every silence, every cold gesture, and every withheld truth.
The regret and guilt clawed at his insides, making him feel like he was slowly being swallowed by a darkness he couldn’t escape.
He longed to hold you again, to feel your body pressing against his, to whisper soothing words into your ear, to make you feel as loved as you deserved to be.
But he could only sit there, the cold night air biting at his skin and the weight of his actions nearly suffocated him.
Hours later, tears dry over his face, Bucky walked home. Every step felt heavy because he didn’t know how to fix this.
Bucky’s steps were weighed down by the immense weight of his guilt, each footfall echoing through the silent streets. The journey home felt like a relentless march through a dark, lonely path.
As he approached your shared home, a sense of dread overtook him. He couldn't shake the image of you, cold and heartbroken, and the thought of facing you filled him with a mixture of fear and desperation that made his entire body tremble. It was as if his guilt was about to swallow him whole.
He hesitated at the front door, his hand hovering just inches away from the knob. He wondered if you were asleep, if you even wanted to see him. The uncertainty made his heart race and his palms sweaty.
Taking a deep breath, he finally turned the knob and stepped inside, bracing himself for the sight that would await him.
You were in the kitchen, back turned from the door as you heard him turn the knob. You were making tea to help you sleep when you heard his footsteps approach. You swallow down the hurt, your face still filled with dried up tears as you try to pretend that everything was still fine.
Bucky stood frozen in the doorway, his heart constricting at the sight of you, your back turned to him. He could see the remnants of your tears, the evidence of the pain he inflicted earlier.
He wanted nothing more than to rush forward, to envelop you in his arms, to whisper apologies into your hair, but he remained motionless, uncertain of how you’d react.
He watched you silently as you continued with your tea, the tension in the room almost palpable. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words remained lodged in his throat, stuck under guilt and fear.
He studied your form, the slump of your shoulders, the quiet way you moved, and he was plagued with the realization of how much he had hurt you.
“You’re home” you say quietly without glancing up as you mix the tea.
Your soft words sliced through the heavy silence like a knife, making Bucky flinch inwardly. He wanted to hear joy or warmth in your voice, but the flat tone only confirmed the damage he had done.
He took a tentative step into the kitchen, still keeping a safe distance from you, his eyes never leaving your hunched figure.
“Yeah,” he mumbled, his voice sounding gruff and raw. “You didn’t have to wait up for me.”
He watched you continue to mix your tea, feeling more like an intruder than an invited guest in your own home.
“Can we... can we talk?” he finally asked, his throat drier than sandpaper.
This was it, you thought. Your worst fear was coming to life.
You nod and sit down, looking at the tea. Afraid that if you saw him you would see the love he lost for you.
Your nod shattered Bucky’s heart even more. The sight of you, so quiet and resigned, made his chest ache with regret.
He took the seat across from you, his gaze fixed on the table rather than your tear-stained face. The silence between you was heavy, filled with tension and guilt.
“Doll…” he began, his voice cracking slightly.
“Do you love her?” you ask quietly not looking up as a tear falls. The hurt that has been festering up inside close to overflowing.
Bucky froze, the air being knocked out of his lungs. He hadn't been expecting that question, and it caught him completely off guard.
“Wh-what?” he stuttered, his heart thumping against his chest in guilt and dread. “What do you mean, doll?”
“Please don’t make me say it,” you plead as your lips quivered “I just want to know her name.”
His heart shattered into a million pieces at the trembling in your voice, the pain and heartbreak so evident in your words. He wanted to reach out but he knew he didn’t deserve that luxury.
He exhaled deeply, his shoulders sagging with guilt and shame, before he finally answered, his voice barely above a whisper.
“There is no one else, doll. It’s just you... it’s always been just you.”
“Bullshit” you say hurt and angry “I just want to know her name” you plead as more tears fell “tell me who I’m losing you to.”
Bucky’s chest tightened at the anger and hurt in your voice. He could hear the pain, the sheer heartbreak in your plea, and it was like a knife to his wounded heart.
“Doll please,” he pleaded, his voice filled with desperation. “You’re not losing me to anyone. There is no one else, I swear it. It’s just you, it’s always been only you.”
“Just tell me their name, I won’t be mad, I swear” You say hurt as you look at him through tears “I just wanna know how can I fix it. What I have to do to make you come back to me” You plead as more tears fall.
Bucky’s heart felt like it was being slowly torn out of his chest as he finally understood what you meant. The pain and desperation in your voice shattered him, tearing him apart from the inside.
He wanted to take you in his arms, to kiss away your tears, to comfort you, to assure you that there was no one, that he loved you only, but he remained motionless, frozen in the grip of his guilt.
“Doll,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. “There is nothing to fix, because there’s no one else. It’s only ever been you…”
He watched as your tears continued to fall, each drop a dagger to his heart. He hated himself for causing you so much pain, for making you think there was someone else, when there was only ever you.
“Please baby” he pleaded, his voice catching in his throat. “You have to believe me. I love you. Only you. You’re the only one for me.”
“I’ve seen the photos” you say heartbroken, “I’m not blind James, I’ve seen the women you were with from the red carpet, the dinners, the banquets. They’re all online too” you add as your voice breaks.
Bucky’s heart sank further into despair at your words. He knew exactly what you were referring to, the countless dinners and galas and banquets he attended in the name of being a hero. The media often snapped countless pictures of him, pairing him with different young women and speculating about his romantic involvements.
He felt sick, knowing that those pictures had fueled your doubts, fed the fear that there was someone else because he started to pull away.
“Those pictures, baby, they’re not what you think they are,” he protested weakly.
“I’m not stupid” you say keeping your eyes on him “I know I put up with a lot but I would’ve preferred if you left me instead of lying to my face”
The pain in your voice, the hint of betrayal, felt like nails being hammered into his heart. He wanted to explain, to tell you that those pictures meant nothing, that he was nothing more than polite to those women because he had to be. But the guilt, the fear, held him back.
He remained silent, his gaze fixated on the table as the shame and regret welled up within him, threatening to drown him.
Quiet sobs escaped you as he remained silent, further cementing in your head that he was lying because he couldn’t even defend himself.
Bucky’s heart ached, each sob like a dagger to his heart. He wanted to scream, to protest, to make you understand that those pictures meant nothing, and it was all just part of the role he had to play for the press. But again, the guilt, the fear, the self-hatred, silenced him.
He simply sat there, his hands clenching into fists on the table, as he fought the overwhelming urge to cross the table, gather you in his arms, and drown himself in your warmth.
“Where did I go wrong?” you asked, your voice breaking through the tears.
The heart-wrenching question cut through the heavy silence like a hot knife. Bucky’s heart shattered into a million pieces as he heard the break in your voice.
He wanted to yell, to explain that it wasn’t you, that you did nothing wrong, that it was all on him. But his voice failed him, trapped by guilt and fear.
He remained silent, his eyes lowered to the table, his body practically vibrating with tension and conflict.
“Tell me what I can do to fix this, fix us.” you plead to make him look “I just want you to come back to me” you add with a sob.
Bucky’s heart shattered into a million pieces as he heard your desperate plea, the sheer heartbreak in your voice making his chest ache. He finally looked up, meeting your tear-filled gaze with eyes full of regret.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice raw and gruff. “I should have been honest with you from the start. I shouldn’t have let those pictures and rumors bother you.”
He took a deep breath, summoning all the courage he could find to continue.
“But there is no one else doll,” he insisted once more. “It’s always been only you.”
The words felt heavy in the air, echoing through the quiet space between you. Bucky’s heart felt as if it were being shredded into pieces with each passing moment, the anguish and remorse almost overwhelming him.
He could see the doubt in your eyes, the hesitation, and it made him ache even more. He wanted, no–he needed you to believe him, to understand that his heart was always, and would always, belong to you.
He leaned forward slightly, his eyes pleading for understanding.
“Please,” he whispered. “Please believe me.”
“You’ve been pulling away” you say quietly with a hiccup.
Bucky’s heart sank further as he heard your quiet, broken words. He knew it was true, he had been pulling away. Creating this distance between you, and it was killing him.
He fidgeted nervously with his hands, his eyes darting around the room, unable to maintain eye contact with you. The guilt and shame were almost overwhelming, and he felt like he was suffocating in his own silence.
“I know,” he finally mumbled, his voice barely audible. “I’m sorry.”
“You’ve been answering my calls less, even when you’re home without a mission you’re always leaving” you say quietly and hurt “you haven’t even held me in months” you add letting all the hurt you have been holding out.
Bucky flinched, the sting of truth in your words hitting him like a punch to the gut. The realization of what he had been doing, how he had been hurting you, shattered his heart, and he felt a deep, aching shame washing over him.
He clenched his jaw, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I’m an idiot,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
He wanted to say so many things, to explain himself, to make you understand why he had been acting this way, but the words were tangled in the web of his guilt and despair.
He watched as the hurt and pain danced across your features, and it made him hate himself even more. He had caused this, he had made you feel this way, and he cursed himself for being so weak, so cowardly.
He pushed himself up from the chair and walked around the table, unable to bear the distance between you any longer. He stood before you, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, his heart aching with the need to touch you, to hold you, to make you feel loved again.
His hands clenched into tight fists, his knuckles turning white from the strain. His eyes fixated on your tear-streaked face, and he longed to hold your face and wipe away those tears as he begs for forgiveness, but the words stuck in his throat.
He stood before you, a man torn between wanting to hold you close and desperately not wanting to stain you with his tainted hands.
“Please James” you plead as you look up at him not knowing what for. "You’re losing me" You whisper as you finally break from the loneliness and hurt that has been eating you for months.
Bucky’s heart shattered at those words, the realization of the impact of his actions hitting him like a truck. The pain in your voice, the despair in your eyes, it was too much for him to bear. He closed his eyes tightly, his whole body tensing as a shudder rolled through him. He hated himself for causing you so much suffering.
“Doll…” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “Please... don’t say that.”
“I gave you all my best me’s” you say as tears fell “all i did was bleed as you ignored me”
Your words, laced with heartbreak and fatigue struck Bucky like a physical blow. He clenched his jaw tightly, his eyes squeezing shut as he tried to fight back the overwhelming surge of guilt.
He opened his eyes again and looked at you then. Truly looked at you—your tear-streaked face, your slumped shoulders, your trembling lips—and for the first time in months really saw how much pain he had caused you.
He took another step closer until there was barely any space left between him and yourself. His hand hovered near yours on top of the kitchen table before withdrawing it quickly out of hesitation born from self-hatred; not wanting even something so simple to taint you as his brain tells him.
“Say something James” you plead brokenly as you laid down all your cards “I got nothing to believe unless you’re choosing me.”
Bucky’s breath hitched—really hitched—as your broken plea echoed through the kitchen, through his bones, into the very core of him. You weren’t just asking for words. You were asking for him to finally choose.
And he’d been too afraid to give it.
His metal hand clenched at his side with a soft whirl, fingers trembling as he finally dropped to his knees in front of you, no longer able to stand under the weight of what he’d done.
He didn’t reach for you, not yet–he didn’t deserve to hold you after what he had done. He just looked up at you, eyes glistening with unshed tears, voice raw like something cracked open and left bleeding in the cold.
“I am choosing you,” he whispered as if it was the breath that he needed to finally take, like it had been trapped inside him since the day he first pulled away. “It may not seem like it… But doll, I’ve always chosen you.”
A tear spilled over as his flesh hand slowly rose between them, palms open like an offering. Almost as if it was a surrender as he finally told her the truth.
“I pushed you away because I was drowning,” he admitted, voice cracking on every syllable. “I didn’t want to drag you down with me… I thought if I stayed quiet, if I suffered alone and give you space you’d realize that you deserve—you’d leave on your own because I’m selfish baby.”
A shudder rippled through his body, and he clenched his fist as if he was holding back a scream. He didn’t dare touch you yet. Not until he laid down all his cards.
“I couldn’t end it with you," he said, his voice breaking “because I do love you more than anything”
His entire being burned with the need to gather you in his arms. To hold you. To finally touch you.
To never let go.
“I broke your heart because you deserve better than me.” he finished quietly, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity that seared through him. “I know I did. I saw it every time you tried to touch me or look at me or–or try to touch me. You reached out and I pushed you away. I watched you to reach for me and I… I didn’t reach back because I’m damaged. It was killing me, but I just… I couldn’t..."
Your hand reached out for him as the tears kept falling, "why?" you asked quietly.
He sucked in a sharp breath when your tremblng fingers touched his, and it felt like he’d been set on fire. His eyes flared, his entire body taut like piano wire, on the verge of snapping.
He wanted to grasp your hand, to cling to your touch with a desperation that bordered on desperation. But he just knelt there. He didn’t deserve it. Doesn’t deserve you. Doesn’t deserve your touch. Your warmth. Your love.
As he made no move you took a shuddering breath and extend the last chance. You sin kdown to his level on the floor “risk something Bucky” you plead quietly "cause you're losing me"
Bucky’s composure shattered in an instant, like glass breaking. He’d been holding it together this entire time, but those words and the look in your eyes as you knelt across from him, pleading with him… it shattered him like nothing else ever could.
With a strangled sound ripping from his throat, he lunged forward, both hands grasping onto whatever parts of you he could reach.
One hand threaded into your hair, the other clutching at your waist like he needed to keep you tethered to him.
He pulled you closer, until you almost fell off the chair, and wrapped his arms around you like he was trying to fuse your body against his. His face buried in the crook of your neck, his entire body trembling, and he sobbed. Deep, ragged sobs that felt like they’d been torn from his very soul.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped brokenly, the words hot and wet on your skin. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”
His hands were everywhere, desperate to touch any part of you he hadn’t touched in months... he needed to feel you, to confirm you were still here. You were still real. You didn’t leave. You were still his.
He was babbling into your hair, it was mixes of ‘sorrys’ and pleading blending with the sounds of his shuddering breaths. He was trembling. Every single part of him was just straight-up trembling, but he held you closer. Tighter.
You feel his body tremble and hold him tighter against you. More tears falling as you relished in the feeling that finally you got to feel his touch again after months of withdrawal.
Bucky inhaled your scent, and it was like being able to breathe again after so long. He’d missed this. Hell, he’d been desperate for this. He’d been going half-insane from the punishment he gave himself.
His hands slid down to your hips and clenched tightly, pressing you as close as physically possible, every line of your body flush against his.
He didn’t care that he was being selfish, that he was being greedy. He didn't care that he was taking so much while giving so little all this time. All he cared about–the only thing he cared about–was you. Your touch. Your body. Your presence.
Tears continued to stream down his face as he clutched you against him, his shoulders shaking with ragged sobs. It was like six months’ worth of guilt, shame and regret all pouring out at once, and in that moment he finally felt like the missing piece in his chest was gone.
Your hands were stroking his hair, cradling his face, and the contact alone was making him whimper into your neck. He ached under your touch, like a man dying of thirst finally feeling a drop of water.
He pressed his lips to your neck, inhaling your scent like it was the only thing keeping him alive. “I missed you…” he whispered, his lips brushing your skin with each syllable.
“I’ve been right here” you mutter as your heart constricted in your chest “I was always here waiting for you.”
Bucky’s grip on you tightened at your words, his hand fisting the back of your shirt as if he never wanted to let you go. He hated that you’d been waiting for him this entire time while he’d pushed you away, that he hadn’t seen just how patient and willing you’d been the entire time all because his head told him he didn’t deserve you. In truth to him, he knew he still didn’t but he had to fight for you.
“I know,” he whispered, his voice thick with guilt. “I know you were. I was just... just an idiot.”
He lifted his head from your neck, searching your gaze as he traced your face with trembling fingers.
Your eyes locked with his, and he winced at the hurt, the heartache swirling in their depths. He’d done this. He’d pushed you away, and he’d hurt you, even when you were just trying to love him. And he couldn’t even begin to explain, to apologize for all the time lost because he was too ashamed, too afraid.
So he did what he could.
His head dipped forward, his forehead coming to rest against yours as his fingers traced the curves of your features. “Please forgive me,” he pleaded softly.
He wanted to memorize every inch of your face, every curve and dip, to ingrain it into his own mind. He closed his eyes, his breath ghosting against your skin, and took a shuddering breath.
He leaned forward, his nose nuzzling against yours, desperate to close even the tiniest of spaces between your bodies, like he was trying to merge his atoms with yours. “Please,” he begged again, his voice cracking, “please don’t give up on me yet.”
“That’s the thing,” you say with a shuddering breath “I never did.”
You closed the distance and kissed him pouring all the heartbreak and hurt you felt into that kiss as if it would make up for everything.
Bucky's heart broke at your words. The sheer honesty, the simple weight of those few syllables. He'd pushed you away countless times, ignored you, even straight up refused to tell you anything, and yet here you were.
You still wanted him. You still loved him.
As you pulled away from the kiss, he felt his throat constrict and close up, and his hold on you grew impossibly tighter, pulling you even deeper into his chest.
“I don’t deserve you,” he choked out brokenly. “I never deserved your love.”
He was shaking, every muscle taut like he was trying to hold himself together. He knew he didn’t deserve you, especially not after everything he’d put you through. The silence, the avoidance, the distance… and in the end, it all came down to one thing.
He didn’t think he was worth it.
His head dropped, forehead pressing against your shoulder, as he inhaled another shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry…”
His shoulders were shaking visibly as his body trembled against yours, like he was seconds from falling apart. His arms encircled you like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let you go. His head burrowed into your shoulder, and a ragged gasp tore from his lips.
He’d been holding back, burying his guilt and fear and hurt for months.
Now it all came crashing down around him. His shoulders heaved, his breathing sharp and broken, as the sobs finally overtook him.
You shush him as you hold him close, “I love you,” you whisper kissing his chest because he refused to let you go. And you do love him, maybe there were still things to address tomorrow but all you knew was you didn’t want to lose Bucky. At the end of the day, you will always stay and fight for this.
And so would he.