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He was overthinking this.
Like, way too much.
Bucky was standing at the end of his bed, staring at the open box. He couldn't quite see it yet but just having to look at the thing was twisting him up.
“This is ridiculous,” he mumbled to himself. “Just put the damn thing on…”
His girl read some…book. He didn't know what it was called, just that the cover looks like some kind of mask. Dark romance, she said it was. She didn't say how dark but judging by what she was talking about? Probably borderline questionable.
But she mentioned about the masked man fantasy that the story leaned into. And it was pretty obvious she was into it.
He jokingly reminded her that he was a masked man for a few decades. And she simultaneously looked guilty and excited about it while apologizing too much.
Which was why he ordered a mask.
Because he wasn't the Winter Soldier anymore. He didn't wear a mask and if he wanted to, why couldn't he? Surprise his girl with something she was obviously thinking about too much.
The problem was he needed to take the mask out of the box and actually try it on.
And he felt panicked just after opening the stupid box, not even having looked at the actual mask yet.
He probably needed to go back to therapy…
After another long few minutes of mentally berating himself about how ridiculous he was being about this, he finally uncrossed his arms and shifted aside the brown paper in the box and pulled the mask out.
It didn't look like the one he wore, but it felt similar in his hand.
Light hard material, angled, the straps…
He realized he was breathing too fast and decided to stop letting this be a big deal and just put it on.
Bucky fixed the straps and slipped the thing on over his head. He held the front piece against his mouth and that's when the panic crept in.
There was ventilation in it, little front slots big enough, yet he suddenly felt like he was suffocating.
He had to pull it down, let it rest around his neck and gasp a few breaths. Bucky walked into his bathroom and took a few steady breaths, eyes squeezed shit as he leaned against the sink.
When he opened his eyes, he stared hard at his reflection. “You are not the Winter Soldier anymore. You are James Buchanan Barnes and if you want to wear a mask, you can.”
He repeated this a few times, quieter and trying to reassure himself until he felt more at ease. Then his eyes dropped to the mask, glaring as if it was his new enemy.
And in a way, it was. He was going to wear this stupid mask, damn it, and he wasn't going to have a panic attack over it. He wasn't going to let the past keep dragging him down.
Bucky quickly lifted, reaffixing it to his face.
His reflection scared the hell out of him. At first.
The glare and menacing look in his eyes paired with the mask… If it weren't for his hair being shorter, he would think it was the Winter Soldier staring back at him.
But he unclenched his jaw and stopped glaring and suddenly? It was easier to look at. There was life behind those eyes, not pain and silent suffering. Because this wasn't a muzzle - it was just a mask.
He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “It's just a mask.”
His shoulders relaxed and he fixed a loose strap by his ear, a pleased little smile under the mask.
“Let's go see if she likes it…”