Secretive - Bucky Barnes

7 || Cracks

[James]
Breathing becomes worse firstly every second, then every minute, then every hour. My lungs burn in need, but my body does not feel in the least like it could get enough air. Enough clear air, that is. Everything seems burning around me, falling into their pieces. I wish I could sleep further, but reality haunts me every time I close my eyes like it was its personal conjuring.

Roller shutter almost entirely down, Steve seems to be able to perfectly ignore the fact it is entirely dark and I have been screaming at nothing, snoring quietly next to my bed on the ground. He tidied my room while I was asleep, crying my soul out. He deserves his rest, and not to be interrupted. Perhaps it is for the best I do not sleep.

But reality is so evil.

She is gone. She really is gone. And I have no idea if she is fine, or what she does, or if she needs my help, or if I could support her with anything, literally anything. Her words, her threatening words to make all of us stay behind; every syllable of them was like a stab in my swollen heart, like it was the first injury I ever got, and therefore, the most intense. 

But that is not true. What she said before has been worse. Has been so much worse.

I knew I never was enough for her, but to finally hear it, the last drop of hope being drought out like on the surface of a hot stone, just within seconds; my body was shaking violently, uncontrollably. I felt my heart stopping to pump blood through my veins. I felt my knees getting weak until I could not hold it any longer. I felt every piece of love that I had for her, still have for her, kicked onto a wall and stepped onto over and over again.

How could she think I did not love her? That Tony and I would be hand in glove? That I was to seduce her into becoming an assassin again, for profits for Stark?

Did she forget what I did for her? That I picked her up whenever she needed? That I cooked for her daily and nearly burned down my entire flat for it? That I watched every of her romances and fantasy movies and read her favourite novels with pleasure? That I tried to be everything she needed me to? My heart beating for her? My mind spinning all around her? My body breathing for her? No wonder I have trouble getting air now; the reason to continue living is gone, and my body knows it.

Because I was not enough. Because I was selfish. Because I thought hiding it would be better, would keep her as innocent as I imagined her to be. Would keep her with me. Would make her mine, and mine forever. Would bind her on me. 

I should have been honest, always. I should have stayed the nights I disappeared with a sobbing heart, leaving her behind so she would not notice my wounds, no matter love bites or from battle, healing so fast. I should have read more of her favourite things. I should have called her parents and brother and even Carly now and then, making sure they were fine. I should have come with her to her friends. I should have attend public activities with her. I should have hold her tight enough, hold her close enough to see that I am madly in love with her. It should have been the first thing she heard when she woke up, and the last thing she listened to before she fell asleep. I should have made her more compliments, should have supported her more in her studies and helped her keeping her job and her flat. 

I simply should have been more for her.

Heaving my heavy legs over the bed frame in the dark, I push back the blanket and slowly stand up, walking towards the door as quiet as I could.

I should have known Steve would wake up anyways. We have the same soldier-skills running through our veins daily.

The moment my flesh hand finds the door handle, the moment his voice echoes through the silence. It is whispered, but it feels way to loud for my ears anyways. Like he yelled at me. »Don't, Buck. Don't turn into the mad ex.«