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Setting: 1940s
"What're you doing here, Buck?" You folded your arms over your chest, leaning against the doorframe of your apartment in the city.
"I was just out and—" Bucky shrugged, but was unable to speak another word when he saw your eyes narrowing at him.
"Don't you dare use that excuse. I'm not a fool, James." You sighed, rolling your eyes.
You and Bucky had been an off and on fling for years, and everyone knew it. You'd break up and you'd make up. That's just how it was.
Bucky had caused this specific break-up and you weren't about to let him forget it, standing there in his suit and tie. You weren't sure where he had been, but he looked really handsome in it. That only made you angrier.
"I know you're not a fool. Why do you think we work so well together? We're both logical. We've each got a good head set on our shoulders." Bucky replied, his hands in his coat pockets.
"If you were logical, maybe you wouldn't keep secrets from me. You should've known I would've figured it out—you signing up. What am I supposed to do, Buck? Wait here for you to come home in a body bag or not come home at all?" You could feel tears welling up in your eyes—a mixture of anger and sadness.
Bucky would be leaving for war shortly, and he hadn't even told you yet. You found out from his mother, and you'd been ignoring him ever since.
"Is that what all of this is about, (y/n)? Me fighting for my country? You think that's a bad thing?" He frowned, stepping closer to you.
"No, Bucky, I think it's a brave thing. I just wish you would have told me." You pulled your weight off of the door frame, standing up straight.
"I didn't tell you because I knew you'd react like this."
"Another cliché excuse." You rolled your eyes, trying to hold your tears at bay.
Pushing Bucky away now was easier than sending him off to war without knowing whether it would be the last goodbye you ever said to him or not.
"Are all females like this?" Bucky huffed, getting agitated with your stubbornness.
"I don't know. Why don't you go find out?" You stepped back into your apartment, ready to slam the door in his face.
"You gotta be kiddin' me. Please, tell me you're not seriously doing this." Bucky only took a step towards you, his foot halfway through the door.
"You're leaving in two weeks," was all you could say.
You knew you were being stubborn, and that your last remark was a little childish. However, nothing could change the fact that he was going to be gone soon and you were going to be stuck in the city, waiting for him to return or a condolence letter.
"Yeah." Bucky stepped farther in the doorway.
"We already have ups and downs as it is, what do you think a war is gonna add in to that?" You swallowed, staying still.
"I don't know. I'll be dyin' to come home, though. But this is what I gotta do, sweetheart. It's what's right." He sighed, finally closing the space between you two.
"Maybe breaking up is what's right, too." You looked up at him, only now noticing the worry lines on his forehead.
"That's not true and you know it." Bucky shook his head, his hand touching your arm lightly.
"I don't know, Buck." You exhaled the breath you'd been holding since he'd come closer.
"I promise, you and I are meant to be together, (y/n). Not even a war can change that." He looked into your eyes, trying to read you.
"If you don't come home—if something happens to you—I won't be able to handle it." You said as he pulled you into his arms, you giving into the hug.
"I promise I'll come home." Bucky kissed the top of your head, your ear pressed to his chest.
You could hear the steady beat of his heart. . .and if you knew that this would be one of the last times you ever heard that sound, you would have stayed in his arms a little longer.
