Little Wing - Bucky Barnes x OC

Promises and Departures

A/N: Hope everyone has recovered from the previous chapter♥️ Oh boy, did I get a lot of angry messages. To those of you that are still here: I love you for sticking with me and hopefully you'll read these last two.  I know the two lovebirds didn't get the happy ending you all were hoping for, but I stand by my decision to give them a beautifully emotional ending.

TW: Mental health issues, depression, mention of substance abuse. I promise it's not too dark of a chapter and it just lightly mentions these concepts. BUT they're in there. Stay safe♥️

Also, I feel like I shouldn't have to say this, but since Peter is in this chapter-- NO NWH SPOILERS PLEASE!!! I'm sure there are some other readers that haven't seen it yet.

~

The morning was foggy and the sky was gray. The sun had barely risen and even then, it was hidden by all the clouds. That signature, gloomy northwest fall had started in. When everything was muffled. Muted.

Especially since most of the town was still asleep... save for the group of teens loading boxes and furniture onto a moving truck.

"Wanda, you're not pulling your weight," Peter grunted between his clenched teeth. "You need to push up and over," he explained.

"Shut up, Parker. I'm trying."

"Can I ask why you saved the heaviest thing for last?" Mj asked from where she stood in the back of the truck, guiding the large piece of furniture into place.

"I honestly wasn't going to take it," Wanda admitted through a strained voice. "I figured we could just put the mattress on the floor. But then I decided it would be good for storage. Ya know, to put things under considering how small the place is."

When the large wooden bed frame slid into place, they all let out exhausted breaths through their smiles and swiped their hands off. The sound of slow clapping came from just a few yards behind them.

They all turned around to find Dove in the same spot she'd been in for the last hour. On the first step of the front porch of the Maximoff home. "Took you losers long enough."

"No thanks to you," Wanda replied.

Dove shrugged in response, then pulled her knees tighter to her chest and tucked her hands into the pockets of her coat.

Wanda didn't blame Dove for not helping. She could see how tired she was in her eyes. They were drooped low and reddened from not sleeping. Dark circles made them look sunken. The girl looked sickly. Not that any of her friends were surprised. She had spent the last day getting drunker than they had ever seen her before. So she was battling a fierce hangover. Honestly, they were shocked she was even awake.

The last twenty-four hours had been some that Wanda desperately wanted to forget. Dove had been a nightmare. She was depressed one moment, then manic the next. In that short amount of time, she had found a way to make Wanda question if it was even a good idea for her to tag along to New York at all.

To Dove, it was all a blur. She was living in a daze. She didn't remember any of the bad parts, which was what she wanted. She didn't remember all the terrible things she said to Wanda. She didn't remember cutting her hair to her shoulders with shitty craft scissors at two in the morning. She didn't remember how long she sobbed on the floor of the bathroom.

And Dove wondered if maybe she had gone a little mad. Maybe she really was broken. After losing everyone she ever loved—save for her best friends— was she going to survive the heartache? Would she ever truly process the loss?

She didn't look like herself, nor did she act like it.

She had become calloused. Bitter towards the world. Shutting out every bit of emotion because she just couldn't. fucking. handle. it. She had spent her whole life drowning in emotion. Feeling everything she could as intensely as she could. Because she loved it. She loved abundance. Always wanting more, more, more.