Eyes of Fire | Bucky Barnes

30

Uxolo had tried to stay away, truly. But it had to have been weeks, already, and she hadn't had communication with Bucky since.

She overstepped a boundary with how she'd acted towards him all those days ago. So, she needed to apologize, it was as simple as that. It was on her for reading this thing between them so poorly, and trying to take the next step forward without proper communication regarding it.

It was becoming clearer to her that whatever it was that made her feel this way towards him, either Bucky did not feel it to the extent that she did, or was in no way ready to act upon it. Maybe he viewed her as a therapist he was forced to hang out with, rather than as a friend, as she'd been trying to be all of this time.

It didn't matter. She'd messed up. She'd made him uncomfortable and acted in ways that were inappropriate. The least she could do was acknowledge her faults and own up to it.

So, that's what she did. Or, was going to do, but such admission was ill-fit to the state she found Bucky in.

Bucky's home — Uxolo herself knew he'd never think of it as such — was already small enough. It'd been his personal selection; a living room with a simple chair, tv, and tv stand; a kitchen barely large enough to contain basic necessities like his refrigerator and microwave, with fairly little counter space. The same kitchen appeared even smaller now, with numerous cans and glass bottles scattered on every surface possible.

They were alcoholic drinks, that much was obvious from the little symbol at the top of each can. Uxolo figured Bucky must have asked someone for them, because there was no way he'd be able to comprehend the Xhosa words printed all along the labels. Or maybe he knew more than she was ever aware of.

"Good afternoon, James." Uxolo began, trying to start them off as usual. There was nothing wrong with him drinking a little; he was an adult after all. What wasn't okay, however, was the amount of empty bottles covering his kitchen floor and countertops. "Have you been... drinking? All day?"

All she got from him was a grunt mixed with a hum, either way functioning as an affirmative.

She said delicately, "Even as an enhanced individual, that can't be good for you."

Enhanced, she'd said.

Bucky couldn't help the chuckle that built in the back of his throat. Uxolo, always so careful to not mention the source of his traumatic powers, the super soldier serum, by name. Enhanced, as if he were some super hero with almighty powers meant to save the world.

"James, come on." She said softly, with a high, encouraging tone that reminded him of how an owner would speak to their dog. "I'll—"

"You'll what?" He cut her off, cold.

He pushed off of his chair, liquid swishing slightly in the bottle from his movements. He asked again, voice low, "Tell me, doll. What'll you do?"

Uxolo stared up at him. She stayed quiet for a moment, before announcing simply, "You can not get drunk,"

Bucky's hand froze in mid air, bottle raised to his lips, and he gave her a confused look.

"You can not get drunk," She repeated quietly. "So, I do not know why you have been drinking so much."

His hand dropped. He tore his gaze away from her and for the first moment since, she felt like she could breathe easier. She saw the muscles in his jaw tick as he stared at the floor for a second, all of a sudden refusing to meet her eyes.

"What's it to you?" He mumbled.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean."

She shook her head, "No, I do not—"

"Yes, you fucking do," He cut sharply, lifting his head to glare at her, taking another step towards her.

Uxolo's heart thumped loudly in her ears but she stood her ground, gaze dropping to catch his vibranium hand flexing tightly around the neck of the bottle. "James..."

"You don't understand, Uxolo. This, all of this, this life—"

"Is still life, James!" She exclaimed, taking a pivotal step towards him. She knew where he'd been going with this: statements about how he couldn't bare to live a life as his, riddled with constant struggles, traumas, and hardships. She would not allow him to think that way.

"This is not the end, you must believe me when I tell you this." Uxolo got close enough to pull the glass bottle from his hand, setting it aside before he could grab it back from her. She very well knew that he'd let her come this close, and had let her take the bottle from his hand. "And even if you do not, you must know that there are things that can give your life meaning if you wish them to."

Bucky could barely get the words out fast enough.

"Like what? Like you?"