Echoes of Time: A Romance Through Time

Sase

Time indeed seemed to halt, each ticking second stretching into eternity as Bucky's words echoed in the still air between us. The weight of his expectation, his hope, bore down on me, a pressure that was both sweet and unbearable. How could I shatter the beautiful, fragile vision of the future he had painted with just a few words? Yet, to continue on this path, to allow him to believe in a shared destiny that defied the laws of nature, was a deceit I couldn't bear to commit. He envisioned a life, a timeline shared in human companionship, filled with milestones I could never truly share in the way he imagined.

My heart was a battlefield, emotions clashing with a ferocity that left me breathless, anxiety clawing its way up my throat as I struggled to find the words. Bucky's reaction to my silence, a mixture of concern and the dawning of disappointment, only served to twist the knife deeper. "You don't have to feel pressured, Annie," he offered, his voice a balm that somehow only intensified the sting.

"It is not that..." The words were a whisper, a feeble attempt to bridge the chasm that had suddenly opened between us. "I... I can't..." The rest of my confession, the truth of my immortal nature, remained imprisoned behind the dam of my fears, unspoken yet devastating in its silence.

And so, I fled. The decision to run was instinctual, a desperate bid for escape from the pain of the moment and the impossibility of my situation. My feet carried me away from him, away from the promise of a happiness that was as tantalizing as it was forbidden. I found solace in the solitude of the hospital rooftop, amidst the unlikely tranquility of its small garden. The city stretched out before me, a tapestry of light and shadow that seemed indifferent to the turmoil within my heart.

As I stood there, the cold night air a sharp contrast to the warmth of the emotions roiling within me, I was consumed by a maelan of regret and self-reproach. How could I have been so selfish, to draw him in, to let him believe in a possibility that was a mirage? The memory of his hopeful gaze, the earnestness in his voice as he spoke those fateful words, haunted me. In my attempt to protect him from the truth of my existence, I had inflicted a different kind of pain, one marked by confusion and, undoubtedly, a sense of betrayal.

The city's lights, once symbols of hope and continuity, now seemed to mock my indecision, flickering reminders of the lives that moved forward in a rhythm I could never truly claim as my own. I was left alone with my thoughts, a guardian of an eternal secret that had become my prison.

Yet, unbeknownst to me, Bucky stood amidst the shadows of doubt and disappointment, not willing to accept the abrupt end of our story. His intuition, honed by battles both physical and emotional, sensed the undercurrents of my departure, the unsaid words that hung heavily in the air. He knew me well enough to recognize the complexity of my emotions, to understand that my flight was not a rejection of him, but a battle with demons he had yet to see.

Determined not to let our story end on a note of despair, Bucky resolved to pursue the truth, to peel back the layers of mystery that surrounded me. His love, a beacon in the darkness, refused to be extinguished by doubt or the seemingly insurmountable barriers that stood between us. In his heart, he carried the conviction that our connection was worth fighting for, that the bond we shared transcended the ordinary limits of human understanding.

Days passed, and the memory of his deception gnawed at my mind and heart like a relentless bullet wound. It was all my fault; I had let my guard down and foolishly given him a chance. I should have known better. Despite trying to carry on with my daily routine, I found myself constantly plagued by thoughts of him, even though I hadn't seen him since that fateful day. Perhaps he had given up, which should have brought some semblance of relief, but instead, it only intensified the ache within me.

While I maintained my usual standard of excellence at work, internally, I was grappling with the agony of betrayal. Lizzy, ever perceptive, couldn't help but notice my distress.
"Something's not right with you. You've sighed six times in the past two hours alone. As your friend and confidante, I feel it's my duty to get to the bottom of this. What's going on, An?" she inquired, her concern evident.

I was taken aback by her astuteness. "What?" I responded, attempting to feign ignorance.
"Annie, come on. We've been friends since day one at this hospital. I know you well enough to recognize when something's bothering you. It's not like you to be so down. So spill it," Lizzy urged, her tone gentle yet insistent.

I let out another sigh, the seventh of the day. "There's... this guy," I began reluctantly.
"Oh boy," Lizzy interjected, sensing where this was heading.

"Yeah... so, you know how I'm not exactly the dating type? I've turned down every guy who's so much as offered me a drink. I value my independence and have little interest in the whole dating, marriage, and family scene. But this guy... he's more persistent than the turtle from that children's book. He didn't give up, and I may have... kind of given him a chance," I explained haltingly.

"Oh my god, that's amazing! You're finally opening up to the possibility of love!" Lizzy exclaimed with excitement.

"Well... not exactly," I admitted, dampening her enthusiasm. "He sort of asked me to be his girlfriend officially... and I may have panicked and not given him a clear answer before fleeing."
"You're kidding, right? Why on earth would you do that?" Lizzy asked, frustration creeping into her voice.

"Honestly, I'm not entirely sure myself. I just... I don't think we're compatible. I don't think I can give him the kind of life he's looking for," I confessed.

"And did you tell him that? Did you even listen to what he had to say?" Lizzy questioned, already anticipating my answer.
"No," I replied sheepishly, confirming her suspicions.

Lizzy shook her head, her expression a mix of frustration and concern. "Annie, you're not giving yourself—or him—a fair chance. Communication is key in any relationship, you know that. Running away from your problems, or in this case, potential happiness, isn't like you."

I could feel the weight of her words pressing against the barriers I had built around my heart. She was right; fleeing from what might very well be my chance at something profound was not in my nature. Yet, the fear of the unknown, of revealing the truth of my existence and facing rejection or worse, disbelief, had paralyzed me.

"It's not that simple, Lizzy," I tried to explain, though finding the words to articulate the complexity of my situation was daunting. "There are things about me... about who and what I am, that he wouldn't understand. That nobody here would."

Lizzy's eyes softened, her initial exasperation giving way to empathy. "I know you're not like everyone else, Annie. There's always been something... extraordinary about you. But don't you think he deserves to know the real you? To make that choice for himself?"
Her questions lingered in the air between us, unanswerable yet impossible to ignore. The truth was, I longed to share my entire self with someone, to not have to hide behind half-truths and secrets. Yet, the thought of opening up about my immortality, of explaining that I was from a world beyond this, filled me with dread.

As the days turned into weeks, the ache of Bucky's absence grew into a constant companion, a reminder of what might have been. My work, once a refuge, now felt like a hollow routine, each task completed mechanically while my thoughts wandered, always returning to him.