Everything the Light Touches

Chapter Three

Rage. White hot, unbridled rage surged through your body. It was all you felt towards Bucky, no not Bucky, the complete stranger standing before you. Before you could even get your brain to think about what you were doing your hand reared back and landed a slap right on his cheek, quickly a red mark in the shape of your hand was beginning to take form. The surprise in his eyes at your actions was quickly replaced with a dark anger and he opened his mouth to talk but you cut him off.

"No you don't get to talk to me like that. In fact you don't get to talk to me at all. You made that decision. I made a mistake coming here. I want nothing to do with you, James Barnes," you hissed, the anger still bubbling beneath the surface and before you could look in his eyes a month longer you swiftly turned to leave through the front door. Suddenly, your wrist was being grabbed and you were twisted back to face Bucky, silent rage building in his face as well. He went to speak but was interrupted yet again, this time by Steve and Natasha. Steve's hand sat firmly on Bucky's shoulder while Natasha's removed his grasp from your wrist. You refused to look at either of them, fearing that your resolve would break down even more if you looked into the faces of your other two best friends. Natasha's hand was light on your wrist, almost questioning, as if she couldn't quite believe you were here. Like she was scared your fury would be directed at her next.

Steve spoke first, "if you're going to talk let's do it off the dance floor, you know the big open place where every single person is staring right at you." The tone he used, as if trying to not frighten a stray animal, pissed you off yet again. But this time before you could speak Bucky finally spoke.

"Ms. L/N was just leaving. Natasha, lead her out," he spoke nonchalantly but there was something there, something dark and angry and...hurt? His whirlpool of unspoken emotions confused you. As if you were the one that stopped talking to him. As if you forced him to leave the state to deal with your betrayal. As if you were the one who stopped loving him first.

Twisting your wrist out of Natasha's grip you snarled in Bucky's direction, "I can let myself out. I don't need Natasha's help. Not now, not ever." If you'd been looking at her you would've noticed the deep look of hurt settling on your face at your words. But you didn't care. The three of them deserved your hatred. They abandoned you. For better or worse that's what they did. And they broke your heart, each in their own way.

When you turned around, to head out the door you entered earlier, Bucky's deep growl sounded behind you, "Oh and Y/N," the venom with which he spoke your first name, the first time you'd heard your name slip from his lips in years, caused the hairs on your body to stand up, "be lucky that I make it a rule not to hurt a woman, because that little stunt you just pulled? Men have been killed for less." The threat hung unspoken in the air between you and your body froze at what he was implying. In all your years of knowing him, he'd never threatened you but he'd also never spoken so plainly about the life he was being groomed for. But something stuck with you. The fact that he said he makes it a rule never to hurt a woman. And it gave you just enough courage to look over your shoulder and spit your parting words at him.

"You might want to rethink that statement, Barnes. Wouldn't want you lying to your men about how you'd never hurt a woman," and you stalked around Natasha and out the door of The Underworld. Your heart was thudding against your chest, anger and sadness swirling through your veins. That was not the same Bucky Barnes you knew all those years ago. Something had changed. Something had taken root deep inside him and done away with the young man you once knew. And you wanted nothing to do with the man he is now. You started the walk back to your parents' place when a voice called from behind you to slow down. Against your better judgement, you stopped as Natasha approached, out of breath from jogging to you. You waited for her to catch her breath, the silence growing more awkward as you waited for her to speak.