Addicted (Stucky)

Addicted

"I'm the one who found you, barely alive." Bucky's mother said to him. The rest of his family was watching the interaction between him and his birth-giver.

"I hope you're not expecting me to thank you for that.. because I never will." He retorted. In that moment, Bucky had never even wanted to be alive. He didn't want to feel anything. He felt useless, pathetic and like he was better off dead.

Bucky shook his head and tried to forget about that moment. That memory had stayed with him through all his years of brainwashing. He had been forgotten his best friend, the only person he cared about, but he hadn't forgotten his suicide attempt. He hadn't forgotten his hurtful words that he had thrown at his mother. He hadn't forgotten his addiction. He hadn't forgotten his accidental overdose.

Bucky was living on his own now. Remembering more and more about his past. He remembered his best friend Steve. He remembered how he had never told Steve that he was gay. He remembered thinking that Steve would never feel the same. He remembered the affair he had with Sean. He remembered how he never told Steve. He remembered all the secrets he had kept from Steve.

In this moment, Steve was all Bucky cared about. But he was probably doing fine now, according to Bucky's thoughts.

Contrary to Bucky's belief, Steve was a mess. He missed his Bucky, his best friend, the only person he truly cared about.

Bucky was living in Brooklyn again. He was living in a small apartment and he worked at a bookstore that was a five minute walking distance from his apartment. He took medication daily for depression. He hated taking it because he felt guilty and like he wasn't good enough to help himself. The thought that he relied on pills to make him feel better made him feel even worse about himself. But the meds didn't help. He was prescribed a medication for his panic attacks and insomnia, he was prescribed Xanax. He knew what it could do, so on the days that he didn't need to take it, he saved it up.

Bucky had to be at work in half an hour, so he decided to kill some time and get breakfast and coffee at a little shop on the corner. He had passed this shop many times but had never gone inside.

It was a small and quiet. Ordering a coffee and an apple, Bucky waited patiently. He clenched his left fist, which was made of metal. He felt anxious and began to inspect his surroundings.

When his order was ready he grabbed it and sat at a table near the front window. He looked at the clock on the wall. There was twenty minutes until he had to work.

He ate his apple and sipped at his coffee. Eventually he decided to head out to work. He popped a few extra Xanax from the past week into his mouth as he was leaving.

He knew work would be slow and he couldn't stand to deal with his thoughts in the free time. He needed the high in order to function.

Bucky worked and few people wandered into the store throughout his shift. When it was over he went back to his apartment. It was only two in the afternoon. He had no plans for the rest of the day.

Bucky went to the fridge and pulled out a beer. His high had worn off and the guilt was coming back. He could remember all the people who he had killed when he worked for Hydra. He drank the beer and pulled out another one. An hour later, he was smashed. He had little to no coordination and his words were slurring.

He had lost sight of everything that had some importance within his life. The only thing that mattered to him was Steve, but he knew he couldn't have him. By 4 P.M., Bucky was passed out on the couch, bottles surrounding him.