Stucky One Shots

Suicide Attempt

WARNING: Triggers

Bucky downed another drink. Letting his mind go a little bit fuzzier. One good thing about his serum not being as good as Steve's is that he actually can get drunk. It helps to dull the pain. To blur the memories. Steve was out of town this week meaning that this gave Bucky all the time in the world to think about everything he has done wrong. Regret each and every death he caused. It had been four days and he couldn't stand it anymore, so he went out on a bender.

"Another one." He slurred and motioned to the bar tender.
"You sure?" The man checked hesitantly.
"Yes!" Bucky snapped.
"Okay, only one then I think you better head home." The tender said unsurely.
"Whatever." Bucky growled dismissively.
He chugged back the frothy beer that was soon placed in front of him before slamming his glass down on the counter and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

He knew that drinking was a bad idea, it only made him more angry and depressed, but usually not about anything in particular. So in some ways it was better. However, tonight that just didn't seem to be working.
"Alright, you should head home now buddy." The bar tender stated.
Bucky scowled at him but not wanting to start a fight and hurt anyone else or add another causality to his seemingly never ending list, he agreed. Unsteadily he got to his feet and staggered outside and around the corner back to his apartment.

It was silent outside and this only made it worse.

"Sergeant Barnes?"

He could hear the voice echoing in his head. His biggest mistake of all. Killing Tony's parents. Stark had been there to help Steve in the early times of when he became Captain America.

All of a sudden he felt the rush of emotion as the tears started streaming down his cheeks and the sobs involuntarily escaped his lips. He couldn't stand it anymore. He stumbled up the stairs to the apartment and let himself inside. The alcohol wasn't doing anything. It was too much. He was sick of it. Over the pain. Over the guilt. He ran to the bathroom and to the cupboard where he kept his secret stash. Fumbling around, blinded by tears, he finally felt his hands wrap around the small plastic bag, taped to the back wall. He ripped it off and pulled it out to where he could see it. Fingers trembling around the packet of white powder, he looked at it longingly.

This is what it had come too. He had nothing left. He was a burden to everyone around him. He was an awful person who didn't deserve to be alive. He weakly pulled himself up against the bench and as carefully as he could in his drunken state, poured a small lump of cocaine out. He manipulated it into a thin line and proceeded to snort it. Sniffing it up made his nose feel raw but everything else feel better. It didn't take long for his senses to seem to dull and he felt so much better. Addicted, he snorted another line of coke, then another and another and continued to a point where he couldn't keep count and he didn't stop until his legs gave out beneath him. Mind fuzzy and body buzzing, he lay on the cold tiled floor helplessly, unable to move. He felt himself slipping in and out of consciousness as his blurry vision inconsistently darkened and then became too bright.

Meanwhile, an exausted Steve quietly opened the door and snuck inside quietly. That was weird, Bucky normally locked it whether he was home or not. Steve's mission had finished early and he was home, unable to wait to surprise Bucky that he was home two days early. He placed his duffle bag on the bench and his shield against the wall, took off his jacket and chucked it on the couch before tip toeing to their bedroom. It was late so he assumed Bucky would be in bed. He clucked the door open and peered into the darkness excitedly.
"Buuuuck." He cooed. "Guess what? I'm home!"
There was no reply. Thinking he must be out to it, he snuck over to the bed and was about to slip under the covers and snake his arms around his boyfriend when he realised he was there. Confused, he headed back out to the lounge to see if he had left any clues as to where he was. He couldn't see him leaving a note since Steve wasn't meant to be home yet, and why would he leave without locking the door.
"Buck?" He called out slightly concerned.
There were no signs of him neccesarily being home or being out.

That's when he heard the crash in the bathroom. His blood ran cold and terrified of what he might find, he grabbed his shield and ran to the bathroom. When he opened the door he found the most dreadful sight he could ever imagine in front of him. Bucky was lying, splayed out across the floor. Eyes rolling back in his head and foam dribbling from his mouth. Shocked, Steve looked around only to see a packet of cocaine spilled onto the floor beside him. The room stank like alcohol.
"Oh my God Bucky!" Steve cried out and fell to his knees beside him.
Shakily, he lifted Bucky into his lap and his head lolled helplessly around. His nostrils were red and his eyes were dilated and glassy. Steve could only just see a thin line of the familiar blue that surrounded his pupils that he loved as his eyes were half closed and spaced out, unfocussed on Steve.

Bucky sensed that he was being lifted up and managed to make out the blonde hair and extremely worried, hurt and upset looking eyes of Steve.
"St-steve? W-what are you d-doing here?" He mumbled and tried to reach up to touch his boyfriends soft face but completely missed, both too weak to lift his arm and his depth perception was too screwed up.
All of a sudden he got an unbearable wave of nausea and rolled over and scrambled over too the toilet with everything he had left to vomit. No sooner Steve was behind him, holding him, rubbing his back and tiring his hair back as he reched violently into the porceline white bowl. When he was done, Bucky collapsed over the toilet but no sooner was Steve pulling him into a tight embrace. After a few seconds hugging him against his chest Steve pulled back to look at Bucky. His mouth hung open and the whites of his eyes flickered in and out of view as Steve supported the back of his head. He delicately brushed a strand of hair off of his sweaty, hot forehead and gently wiped the white powder from under his nose and the vomit from the corner of his mouth.
"Oh Buck." He wept softly as a tear rolled down his cheek. "Why are you doing this to yourself?" He squeezed him back against his shoulder.
"I have t-I have to get rid of the pain St-Stevie." Bucky mumbled into his shoulder. "I d-dont deserv-ve to be here. I'm not worth it." He let out a sob.

Steve's heart sank and he suddenly had a terrible thought. He desperately wrenched Bucky's flesh hand into view and rolled up his sleeve. To his relief there were no cuts or scars anywhere in sight. He breathed a sigh of thanks and pressed his face into Bucky's sweet smelling hair.
"James Buchanan Barnes. Don't you dare think that your not worth it because you are. You are worth everything to me." He whispered.
"B-but I c-can't do it anym-more! I can't d-eal with the g-guilt of everything I've-v done." He stuttered.
"That wasn't you! It wasn't your fault Buck! How many times do I have to tell you this?" Steve said hoarsely and only held Bucky tighter, scared that he was going to loose him. Bucky didn't answer. Terrified that he had fallen unconscious from his overdose, Steve abruptly pulled out of the embrace.
"Bucky!" He cried as he grasped his boyfriends face and shook his head to keep him conscious. "Please don't do this. I love you. We can get through this."
Luckily, Bucky was still conscious.
"But you don't have to live with these memories in your head!" He groaned as tears streamed down his face.
"I know, but please Buck. Just let me help you. Please understand that it's not your fault. It wasn't you. There are better ways we can cope with this. You deserve to live, you deserve a better life. Just imagine if I hadn't come home early, you could be dead right now!" Steve sobbed.
"I don't deserve to live. I don't want to live." Bucky muttered as he looked Steve right in the eye for the first time.

This broke Steve's heart, but he could smell the alcohol on Bucky's breath and although he knew that this was mostly the drink talking, these thoughts no doubt still ran through Bucky's mind each and everyday.
He sighed sadly and carefully got up, cradling Bucky in his arms and carried him to their bedroom where he lay him down on the bed. He was going to help his boyfriend through this. He was going to show him that he did deserve to live, to live a great life. He gently planted a kiss to Bucky's forehead.
"I love you, Buck." He whispered softly as he pulled the trembling figure against his own body.