Bucky Barnes: Enemies to lovers

chapter 5: Wounds

Tw: stitching a wound (+description)

-----------------------------------------‐--------------------

Bucky's pov:

I was surprised to find the feeling of pure hatred had somehow disappeared. Of course I didn't like her or anything, but I no longer absolutely hated her guts.

The more I thought about what happened, the more my opinion on y/n changed. She saved my life, in that moment her first thought wasn't to run, it was to check on me, she took a knife to the stomach to prevent me getting shot. I somewhat trusted her.

I opened the door to the Safe house, helping her inside and toward the kitchen, sitting her down and leaving to go find a medical kit.

I poured a little rubbing alcohol on a piece of cloth, dabbing it on her arm causing her to flinch but she quickly pushed the pain aside. I cleaned the wounds I could see, consisting of one large gash across her arm and a few grazes across her face, when I remembered the most important wound.

"I would say you can clean the one on your stomach on your own but it's going to need stitches and it's almost impossible to stitch yourself up." I explained almost apologetically.

She seemed to understand what I was saying and smiled sympathetically before removing her shirt. I tried to keep my eyes trained on the wound, adding a little more alcohol to the cloth, again rubbing it on the cut. Only this time, the pain must have been too much as she jumped up and contained a small scream.

My hand instinctively went to her waist, the cold metal again making her jump at first causing me to quickly retract it, but she pulled it back and placed it on her side again.

"The colds soothing. It distracts from the pain." She mumbled, seemingly embarrassed.

After cleaning the wound, I pulled out the needle and wire, getting ready to stitch the gash. I looked up at her, sorry.
"It's gonna hurt." I reminded her.
"Get it over with Barnes." She demanded, but I could see a little fear I her eyes.

I lined up the needle, sticking it in beside the gash. She winced, her hand flying on top of mine on her waist, gripping it tight.

I continued to stitch the gap, sheepishly biting off the end of the wire after finishing. I dressed the wound and wrapped a bandage around her waist before allowing her put back her shirt back on.
"Thank you." She said genuinely, squeezing my hand slightly.

It was only now that I realised I was still gripping her hand, for some reason I felt my chest tighten and heat rise to my cheeks.

"I think we need to talk." She said sympathetically, but this time I agreed. I nodded my head, prompting her to walk to the sofa in the living room, me trailing behind.

-3rd person pov-

"It's obvious its not safe for us to leave, so we're going to be here for a while yet and I can't stand being alone like this. I don't know how much more ignoring I can do, and I understand you hate me-" y/n started,
"I don't hate you." Bucky interrupted, stopping y/n in her tracks.
"You've changed your tune." She shot back confused.
"You saved my life, your instinct was to get me to safety. I guess you're not as bad as I thought."

There was a silence for a second, neither sure what to say.
"Let's say we watch at least one movie every other night, have to sit with each other during meals and if desperate times call for desperate measures a board game." He compromised, lifting an eyebrow to see if she agreed. A simple nod of the head told him she did, a small smile forming on her face.

Bucky found his chest tightened once again at the small grin. Quickly shaking off the odd sensation and slightly scolding himself for letting him get distracted. He decided it was best to leave before the feeling came back.

"This doesn't change the rules though." He stated.
"I wouldn't dream of it." She sassed, walking away to her room before he could.

She stopped at the top of the stairs turning around and saying.
"Night Barnes." She said before walking out of sight.
"Night y/ln." He replied to himself, getting a weird sense of Deja vu from the situation.

-Y/n's pov-

I closed my door, not moving but instead simply staring at the wall ahead of me. Why didn't I hate him? I should hate him! I was mad at myself, furious that I couldn't even force myself to hate him.

Years, literal years were spent fighting each other, torturing each other, slowly killing each other. And yet somehow I no longer hated the man all for what? He stitched a few wounds, thanked me for saving his life? What else would I have done in that situation?

I stormed through the room and into my ensuite bathroom, quickly removing my shirt and unravelled the bandages around my waist, staring at my reflection in the mirror.

Although the stitching on my most recent wound was obviously the most noticeable, various other scars and marks littered my body, covering my skin in a permanent dress of shame.

The longer I looked, the worse I felt. Normally this would result in me blaming Bucky, wanting nothing better than to punch him in the face. But today? Today all I wanted to do was cry.

I no longer had anyone to blame, leaving my mind open to new thoughts, swarming my conscience. More and more thoughts filled my head until it became too much to bare. Screaming I punched the mirror, crying out in pain as I realised what I did.

The shards of glass littered the floor as I fell to my knees. God I felt so fragile, it all came so suddenly, I was doing fine just 10 minutes ago.

Bucky came bursting through the door stopping in is tracks as he scanned the scene before him. Quickly bending down next to me, taking my hand in his, grabbing a cloth from off the counter and wetting it before wiping the blood away from my knuckles.

Not once did he question me, he didn't even show any form of curiosity or ask why, his focus was on my safety first.
"Go get changed, I'll clean this up." He offered.

All I could muster was a small nod as he helped me up and into my bedroom, closing the door to give me some privacy while he cleaned up my mess.

I changed into more comfortable clothing, some sweatpants and a hoodie, sitting cross legged on the bed, contemplating what to tell Bucky when he inevitably asked what happened.

A couple minutes passed till Bucky walked into the room. He leant in the doorway, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow expectantly. I sighed, looking down at my hands in my lap, fiddling with the fabric of my joggers.

"You've gotta tell me y/l/n." He reminded me.
"I don't hate you." I said quietly, barley above a whisper.
"What?" He asked.
"I dont ha-"
"No I heard you, what does that have to do with this?" He interrupted.

There was a pause while I thought about my answer. I could lie. I could push him away. Yet for some reason, I didn't want to.

"I can't hate you and I hate that." I said honestly. I paused, giving him a chance to say something, but he never did, so I continued.
"So I looked at myself in the mirror, at my scars I mean. I tried to tell myself it was your fault but this time I couldn't and it all just happened so suddenly and now that I don't think its your fault I started thinking it was mine and so much just happened in such a short amount of time I-" I cut myself off.

My knees were pulled up to my chest, my chin resting on my kneecaps, tears threatening to pool my eyes but I blinked them away. I looked up at Bucky to find him dumb founded.

"Look Buck I'm tired, I'm still aching from earlier and I may not hate you but I'm not exactly ready to tell you my life story." I sighed.

He stood up off the wall and nodded walking toward my door, opening it before looking back and saying.
"When, or if, you ever are ready, I'm just down the hall." Closing the door behind him, leaving me alone.

I turned over and stuffed my face into my pillow and screaming. Why was he being so nice to me? Maybe, just maybe I could accept not hating each other, but being nice, possibly even friends? That would take a lot of adjustment.

But with time, and a lot of effort, I could make it work, and besides, this is what I wanted right? I risked our lives just for human contact, now I'm getting mad that he wants to spend time with me? This man makes me crazy, and right now? I'm not sure if its good or bad crazy.

------------------------------------------------------------