Secretive - Bucky Barnes

64 || Air Supply

[James/Nova]
»She sleeps.« I whisper, walking from the bed-section of the tour bus Tony got to the front, shoulders hanging down in exhaustion.

According to the others, Nova and I spent three hours in there before coming out together, my arm around her shoulder, hers around my torso. The nightliner already stood in place in the middle of nowhere, dust colouring the black of its outside in a lighter shade. The windows are darkened, so no one can look in, and our glance to the fields is filtered. Not that we would see much anyways; night grew over us like a thick blanket.

Behind the driver, there is a little kitchen and a toilet. Right behind eight one-sized beds, and after that, the launch with the couch I find the others in. When we arrived, an ambulance waited for us, caring for Nova's wound and making sure it would heal without consequences. It was not an easy job to explain the happenings to them, especially since Nova's increased healing started its work and the wound looked like two-days-old already, could not be touched though due to the toxin.

I still cannot believe what her genes make her. She is fast, faster than Steve and I, but not that strong. Nonetheless, her punches are pretty hard, and I cannot walk around shirtless for the next day in front of her to avoid her getting a bad conscience. When she bumped me and pushed me into the stone wall, it really did hurt, and the consequences are probably going to be portrayed a little longer than simple hickeys.

Her eyes and ears must sharpen, otherwise she would never have survived the arrows. She is immune to every poison, pain not getting a hold of her. I wonder how often she cheated death in her life, yet.

Then, she is also a human being, like everyone else. Feeling the entire pattern of emotions: happiness, sadness, tiredness, anger, hunger, thirst, excitement, anxiety, exhaustion, and so on. 

And her beauty, oh, my God. Even crying she looks like the most beautiful of Aphrodite's flowers, outstanding the Goddess for miles. 

I quickly decide she is the most amazing kind of perfect to me. Like the lock to my key, like the north star to my night sky, like the Juliet to my Romeo.

Again, I wonder why she did not leave me yet. I have been weak, in there more than ever, left her alone, ran away because I am not strong enough to withstand the trigger. She knows I am hiding something, something severe, but cute as it is, has not drawn any connection to the Winter Soldier yet.

Perhaps, this will change soon. 

I still hope she will not remember the words he used, the circumstances that caused his death.

My angel cannot know she interferes with the devil.

»Finally.« Natasha snaps me back to reality, and I sit down on the end of the couch next to Steve, close to the exit and the beds, just in case Nova cries out or needs water or even simply wakes up. One single breath out of regularity and I am next to her. I know, sometimes she is annoyed by my overprotectiveness, but time has made me get some real bad seperation anxiety, starting the day I lost myself for the very first time, and increasing ever since. I just hope she can deal with it forever like she does now, never growing tired of my bad habits.

Running my hand through my hair, I think about growing it a little longer. Nova once mentioned how much she likes the style of this young singer, Shawn Mendes, I guess was his name.

»What happened after we left?« Steve asks, concern written across his features when he faces me from the side. 

I lean back, head resting on the armrest behind the back of the couch, eyes closing. »Not that much«

I cried like a baby and was the one in need to be carried for, like a little boy. Not able to be what she urged me to be in the least. 

Then, an idea sparks in my head, and I sit up again. I get out my phone, sadly only having four numbers enlisted, Steve's, Sam's, my therapist's, and Nova's, of course. It takes a little longer to find, but I eventually get it. Quickly, the message is sent.