Work Text:
just breathe
“Breathe." Dr. Raynor had said. "Just breathe." She taught Bucky a new breathing exercise for when he had a panic attack - which happened constantly.
Being a teenager in the 21st century is not easy at all, you need to deal with school and family pressure, self-esteem, anxiety crises, homophobia and so many other problems. Bucky has been dealing with loneliness and depression since he started discovering himself as a person.
Like every virus, it started with small symptoms; feeling down sometimes, weight loss there, missing class among others. He started therapy when his father started fighting with his mother, being an only child, the pains of his parents accumulated in his mind and made him feel alone.
At school the problem was no different, always alone, without friends. Steve changed schools, the Maximoff twins were too busy with the last school year, Natasha had already graduated and Clint became captain of the soccer team.
Breathe.
He tried, God knows how much Bucky tried to breathe. He tried when he sat on the floor with his back to the white door of his room, with his head on his knees and his hands covering his ears so as not to hear his father's angry screams towards his mother. He tried when Fury, the principal of the school, said that if Bucky didn't show up more and improve his school performance, he would be expelled before completing the second year. He tried when John Walker beat him for being "a faggot" and spat on his face.
But he got tired.
He didn't know how or why he had accepted the invitation to the twins' party, he only knew that he was sitting cross-legged in front of the pool that was outside the house, his spine erect and his dull blue eyes, opaque and hopeless, only the void. The cold wind caused his white face to gain a rosy hue and his eyes to burn. Bucky didn't care, he had been on autopilot for so long that he couldn't even describe the feeling in his chest.
Sadness, pain, suffering, loneliness.
Nothing. Sometimes he just didn't feel anything, and in a way that was good, it spared him from headaches and insomnia during the early mornings.
Nothing. Sometimes he just didn't feel anything, and that was horrible, he didn't know how to describe the feeling that permeated in his mind, in his heart.
Nothing suffocated him, scared him. How could he, a simple human being, nullify any kind of feeling existing in his brain, overnight?
He wondered why he was still there, what was the point of everything, after all? Why stay there when everything and everyone around you show happiness just because he's not around? Why fight for something that is no longer worth it?
He thought too much, he read too much, he calculated too much, his brain was always active and this consumed him.
Be good at it, be good at it. His father told him that studies were the only way to make a living, but Bucky didn't care about it. He just wanted to be able to paint his pictures in peace, listening to his relaxing songs (or even something heavier, depending on his emotional state).
Breathe.
He dug his fingernails into his legs when he felt the too familiar feeling of despair, his throat closing, his breathing failing, the sickness in his stomach and the uncontrollable desire to cry.
One, two, breathe.
The muffled music that came from inside the house was a backdrop for the anxiety crisis in which Bucky was sinking. His head was spinning and he felt the hot blood filling his nails and his body. His chest went up and down at a very fast speed and his heartbeat accelerated.
Come on, you can do it. One, two, breathe.
In a jump, Bucky stood still facing the pool, closed his eyes and tried to breathe. Thin water droplets began to fall from the dark sky and just like the rain, Bucky also fell.
Towards the bottom of the pool, with no return, only silence, cold and darkness.
The sound of his body clashing with the pool water was almost null for those who were inside, but for Sam, who was in the backyard next door, it was like a bang. He was surprised not to hear the noise of someone emerging and decided to look through the cracks of the fence that divided the land. Nothing, just silence. He felt a sudden fear when he saw a black sweatshirt sinking into the icy water, without any attempt to return to the surface, and so he ran as fast as possible to the neighboring house.
Bucky let himself sink into the cold water that sent thermal shocks to his hot body. He didn't fight, he didn't make an effort, he just... accepted. Would it be like that? So many years of struggle, senseless efforts and discussions with parents to simply end up there?
He felt weak.
Yes, James Buchanan Barnes was a weakling. That's what his father said every time he received the bill for Bucky's therapy. He felt vulnerable when he was close to his father, he felt small, an annoying hindrance that only increased the expenses of the house. His father was right, he was weak.
After years of therapy, for the first time he contradicted the psychologist's order and did not breathe. That would be his end.
His head hurt from the lack of oxygen and his chest burned. But everything was fine, that would end soon. Pain, beatings, screaming and school grades would end. It would end loneliness, feeling of insecurity, uncertainty and the feeling that he was doing something wrong just because he liked boys.
In the end, everything would be fine.
One.
His hands began to turn white due to the weak circulation, as well as the whole body turning absurdly pale.
Two.
The water invaded his lungs without asking permission, causing a burning sensation in his chest.
Three.
His brain was begging for a little air but Bucky wouldn't give it, blue, red, golden and black dots danced under his eyelids, like fireworks congratulating him for the act.
Four.
The movement in his chest was almost imperceptible, his heartbeat was very weak and Bucky no longer had the strength to go back. He decided that he would follow Dr.'s rule one last time and prepared to take a deep breath underwater.
But before he could reach number five, the water made a movement similar to what it had done when he threw himself into the pool. He felt an arm surrounding his torso and pulling him up. No, absolutely not. It was just his suffocated brain creating an illusion.
Feeling the cold air on his face after emerging was like a sharp slap, he felt his body being placed on the edge of the pool and a warm hand touching his neck.
He wanted to open his eyes and see what was happening, but he was so weak that he couldn't move his eyelids that seemed heavy like a bag of cement.
“Come on, you can do it. Breathe!” A muffled voice said, it seemed distant, as if it were inside the house, in the middle of that bunch of drunk people who didn't notice what was going on in their garden.
Bucky felt two hands squeezing his chest, between his ribs, once, twice, three, four times. Until they stopped and touch his face in the same place and repeat the movements again. A female scream was present, and just like the voice, it seemed meters away.
“Come on, man. Breathe!” The voice said once more. “I'm sorry but it's for your own good.” The voice spoke again and soon covered Bucky's nose and opened his lips, and started mouth-to-mouth breathing.
The air that the unknown pushed into his body, fought for a decent space inside the lung. The heart beat did not stop and more red lights flashed, this time, illuminating the whole environment.
It was very fast, Bucky heard Dr.'s voice whispering in his ear; "Breathe" she had said and all the water was expelled from her body.
The stranger held him by the back of his neck and turned him sideways, to prevent the water from returning to his nose and him drowning again. The music was no longer heard and Bucky's chest burned, because he was receiving oxygen again.
He gasped feeling the hot hand go up and down several times on his back, finally Bucky opened his eyes.
He found the brown orbs staring at him full of concern but didn't have time to say anything, because several paramedics arrived and ended up pushing the other boy from there.
"Breathe." Sam had said, and even with depression and other problems, Bucky decided it was the best thing to do. Because, unlike what he thought, people cared about him, Sam cared about him.
Maybe it would be a good idea to keep fighting, he could do it, he was strong. And now, he had help from Sam and his friends.
Bucky was no longer alone