Loneliness. ◇

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by NvrEndingStory_

by NvrEndingStory_

- Bucky's apartment, following the therapy session -

Bucky's point of view.

▪︎ 9 p.m. ▪︎

It's 9 p.m already. A silent evening set in the living room, not a singular sound except the neighborhood, not the sense of a voice in the room, just the sense of coldness.

A month ago the room would have been warmer, the warmth would have been brought by Y/N and I simply enjoying a moment together, at this time we would specifically be in the kitchen and I would be putting a sort of show her for by demonstrating her one of the new trick that I learn every week on that cooking channel.

I've always loved cooking, or at least trying this... assemble of ingredients, because the end result was never a real dish but still, I enjoyed that try, but I think I lost that passion the same way I lost myself during these 90 years.

Many things changed since that day on the train and I would have never thought that it would have had any effects on such simple everyday things, like cooking.

During the two-year run¹ I first made my way by simply combining edible things here and there, and when the memories progressively came back I tried my best to remember the dishes my mom and I used to make, trying to find back a taste of life maybe, but of course it was never as good as hers.

Y/N and I also used to cook together back in the days, and I remember it was also on every tuesday. We would be back from class and start cooking and telling each other our days, then back from work, then I enlisted and when I came back, those tuesdays were lost, lost to someone else.

Part of me can't stop thinking of what if I did not. What if I did not enlist? If I didn't maybe she wouldn't have come for me after, maybe I wouldn't have lost her to Stark, maybe we could have been still in our time, that's it. Maybe we would still have our tuesdays.

Anyway, the cooking show is on monday at 2 p.m., I always watch it secretly to surprise Y/N with what I present to her later, whether it is something as simple as a so-called purée, or even something a dash more complicated like those things called éclairs.

I never really succeeded in doing these latters and honestly I never really cared in doing so because the results of the recipe were less interesting than the look on Y/N's face watching me kind of clowning myself trying to do them.

I would be struggling with piping bags, kneading, and all that kind of stuff while she would be chuckling and would even finish bursting out laughing while watching me doing so. Just a genuine and delighted laugh of hers, just her and me in such a simple enjoyable moment, no thoughts of anything that happened to us, no dark thoughts, none of that.

It was just us, as it always should have ever stayed. Since the beginning, it has always been just us. Ever since our gazes crossed each other I knew it was just us, and that it's supposed to be just us, her and I. But now, it's only me. And her, far from me. It's tuesday night, it's 9 p.m. and I'm alone, in this silent kitchen.

▪︎ 10 p.m. ▪︎

It's 10 p.m., now. A month ago I would be watching a movie from Steve's list, having Y/N peacefully lying against me. That movie would be accompanied by her very much detailed comments on how everything is scientifically wrong in these. The more the movie would pass and the more her voice and comments would be taking over, and even if I never understood quite a thing of the science stuff she'd say I was still listening to each single words that she said.

I never understood science to this deep of a level, I'm no scientist, no mechanic, no physicist, no chemist,...nothing near that.
The only science knowledge that I have in mind is the one Y/N ever told me when she was talking about her work and researches or topics related to back in the 40s and even more now, and to be honest they stayed in my mind only because I'm as mesmerized by her voice as I am by her face, and every single note that is coming out of her mouth stays in my mind like a melody.

When she does so it is always with such a passion that can be seen by her little hands' movements, or by the way her eyes slightly widen.
This trait of hers never changed, and I'm glad that there are still just simple things like this that can allow her to simply be herself, and that can allow me to - even for a second - focus on this, and imagine nothing changed, imagine the world has never been cruel to her, and I.

But instead, it's a whole other picture. Everything changed, and nothing will ever be back close to the preciousness of that time even if I thought so for a minute. I thought that it could go back to a sense of life, of pure life and simple moments like this watch of a movie, but it can't, this sense is lost. It's tuesday, it's 10 p.m. and my darling is not there, with me. It's just me, and this complete silence.

▪︎ 11 p.m. ▪︎

It must be 11 now, I don't even know anymore. At this time a month ago, I would be snuggled against Y/N in bed, my head resting on her chest while she passes her fingers in my hair in the most delicate way, her other arm gently squeezing me against her.

I would be closing my eyes, enjoying the moment and letting peace fully enter my mind. I would just slowly let myself melt in her arms, listening to her heartbeats, realizing with each beat how much preciousness this heart has, and how much protection it needs to have.

Unconsciously when doing so, I was lightly squeezing her against me as well, thinking that this wrap of arm could be a protection to her heart, thinking maybe it could take the pain that she still had in her heart and make it go away.

When I was against her this way I also listened to the way she breathed, and I even used to think that the more the minutes passed at this exact same moment, the more her breath steadied with the peace that this sort of hug added, but I was wrong. It was all the opposite.
My arms were nothing but chains for her, my touch was nothing more than blades ripping her, I was doing nothing more than holding her even more captive.

It's 11 p.m., Y/N is not there, I am not in her arms, in peace. My love is not in my arms, in peace. I don't even know if she ever was in peace in those arms. I lost that peace and now I am just here, laying on her pillow, tricking my mind into pretending it's her to try to still hold onto her, even just an illusion of her.

▪︎ 12:30 a.m. ▪︎

It's... 12. a.m., even past that, and one thing of this new routine didn't happen yet. Ever since that we're away, Y/N would be calling, exactly at this time.

It's been four weeks now, and I still don't have the strength to talk to her yet, even to simply hear her voice through the voicemails she leaves me, but seeing her name on the screen kind of reassured me that she was still... there. And today, nothing. I'm staring at my screen, and nothing.

Maybe I should call, then?

__________
¹: after "The Winter Soldier" storyline.

___________________

Thank you for reading! Keep in mind that this part takes place at the same moment as Y/N's and Yelena's "talk" in part 168.
FYI, 2 written chapters and a video part (pt. 170) are going to be after this.♡
Don't hesitate to comment and interact! :)