Eyes of Fire | Bucky Barnes

11

The tears that had fallen down his cheeks felt as though they were on fire. He wanted to scream but any noise he made came out as a croak.

Someone not out to hurt him, to his knowledge, was indeed here, flesh and blood, fingers combing through his hair. Not the Winter Soldier's, not the Asset's, his. His hair.

The state of the room came flooding into his vision once more. He'd destroyed a path to the bathroom.

Those soft, gentle palms were running up and down his back now. No excessive pressure, no gripping fingertips. No, they were making careful, deliberate tracks up his spine. A grounding technique.

Bucky slumped, completely exhausted now, the threat gone, a faint murmur of electricity on the edge of his brain. He inhaled as deeply as he could, then exhaled and slumped over again. His eyes felt like lead; "What did I break?"

"That does not matter, I am more worried about your hand." As she said it, she was already removing the cloth and examining it out of his line of sight.

He hadn't even realized that she'd taken one of his towels from his bathroom and wrapped it around his hand, tying it off at his knuckles.

Bucky felt like he'd just run a marathon; he could barely keep his eyes open. He mustered just enough strength to push the top of his wrist against his lip, wiping off the sweat that gathered there, and finally turned to her.

"How'd you get in here?" He mumbled quietly; any louder and he thought he might lose it completely.

"Shuri." She said, and that was enough. 

Her expression softened further once she took a closer look at his face. His eyes were sunken and underneath them a horrific shade of purple; his hair matted and tousled, as though he hadn't brushed it in weeks. He looked utterly exhausted.

They sat together for just a moment; she turned up the ceiling fan and found him another, bigger, towel to wipe off the gallons of sweat dripping from his skin.

She scanned his room quickly. He'd opted for what was probably the lowest quality room the royal family had to offer their guest: a one-floor shack with a small living room, an even smaller bedroom, and a kitchen that doubled as a laundry room. It was located just along the edge of the royal family's borders, on the side closest to where her own home was located.

Rather than sleeping in his bed, in the bedroom at all actually, it seemed he had set up a few cushions on the ground in the living room to sleep on.

Deeming it more appropriate to drill him on his choice of living situation later, she twisted to face him and asked how else she could help. He'd long since got his personal space back, moving a few feet away from her as soon as he'd fully come to, but she hadn't left him.

"Would you like me to find you something to eat? Or something to watch?" Uxolo offered, but he just shook his head. He fiddled with the towel with his fingertip for a second,

"I'd like you leave, please."