Bucky Barnes- Enemies to Lovers

Sunday

*Y/n's pov*
When I wake up, Bucky isn't laying next to me anymore. A scan the room with no sight of him.
Was it maybe a dream?

I roll over to face the other side of my bed. I notice that the pillows are not in place anymore.
So it wasn't a dream.

I smile at the thought Bucky sleeping next to me. Then the memories from my dream flood back in my head. I remember everything. Every. Single. Detail.
The faces. The screams and how the people I was about to kill would beg for their miserable lives.

Last night I told Bucky more or less those things. I didn't told him everything even tho he reacted pretty understanding to it. Probably because he went through pretty much the same. With the difference that he was forced to do it.

What I didn't told him was that I wasn't just aware of what I did. No. I was enjoying it.

I can't explain why I would like something like this. Hurting people... That is something which doesn't make sense. Maybe I still miss a part out. I don't know how he would react if I told him.
I would be no better than the people who did this to him...

At week one Peter told me some basic information about everyone. Their backstories if you so will.
He told me that Bucky has servile trauma of what happened to him and that he feels guilty of what he did as the winter soldier.
When Peter told me some more about Bucky's past, I felt a lump building up in my throat. I remember that feeling pretty well.

Also I don't want to imagine what the others will think about it. I don't even know if I should tell them but it would be only fair. Considering what they did and still do for me.
I don't need to tell them now... maybe next week or so?

I look at the clock just to see that it's 8am.
I roll out of bed. Before I walk into the bathroom, I grab some sweats and a t-shirt to go with it.
I take a shower, brush my teeth and put the clothes on.

I walk downstairs. This time I'm not scared of Bucky's door which could open anytime. To be honest, I hope that he walks out of his room this time. But he doesn't.

Making my way downstairs, I spot him at the kitchen island, drinking some coffee. I look around just to find him there. By himself.
I walk up to him with a small smile.

"Morning." I say.

"Hey." he says softly. His voice is deep and raspy. He probably just woke up, just like me.

I stand now in front of him.

"When did you leave?" I ask.

"At around 6am."

"Oh." I look away.

"Hey, no. I- don't think I wanted to leave. I just went for a run."

"On a Sunday morning?" I raise my brow.

"Well, yeah. You should try it."

"I rather not." I laugh. He laughs along.

Then I walk over to the coffee machine to press some buttons to make myself a cup of coffee.

"You want to talk about it, doll?"

"About what?" I try to brush it off.

"You know about what."

I sigh.

"Maybe not today?"

"Hey, that's alright. No pressure." He assures me.

It's quiet for a few seconds before he speaks again.

"Do you think on telling the team?"

I look over to him, still standing next to the coffee machine.