Hidden Love ~ Stucky

32

The next week was torture. The glares were harsh. Hurt and anger filled slurs stung. And the worst part was that Bucky knew he deserved it. He deserved everything little thing that T'Challa threw at him. And that just made it hurt all the more.

Countless times he had tried to explain himself, apologise for his mistake, try to get T'Challa to understand. But it never seemed to work. All that the other had for him was a simple "fuck off," before striding away.

And now Bucky sat, head down, beside T'Challa in health as they were expected to do a project together on nutrition. "Miss?" T'Challa asks, voice harsh. "Can't I just do this on my own?"

The words hurt, burning like acid, and Bucky had to take them, no uttering any response to defend himself. Nothing.

The teacher sighs, considering what the situation must be, yet still shakes her head. "Sorry, T'Challa. But being in a pair is required for this project, so put your differences aside and get to work."

T'Challa grumbles, snatching the sheet from Bucky's weak grasp and scanning over the list of suggestions they could do their project on.

"I- I know you hate me right now." Bucky whispers, "But can we please just be civil? It's only a project and we don't need to do it outside of school."

"Hate doesn't even come close to what I feel for you, Stark." T'Challa hisses, slamming his laptop shut and slinging his bag over his shoulder at the sound of the bell, indicating the end of the day.

Bucky gets up from his seat. "I'm sorry. Okay?" He cries. "What more do you want from me!? It was a mistake! You know that I would never do anything like that on purpose-

"No I don't. I don't know you anymore. Ever since you started hanging out more and more with that bastard, you changed.. and for the worst. A suicide attempt, crying, making the arrangement just for a fun time!"

"I get that your angry, but don't you think that this hurts me too?" Bucky hisses, tears welling up in his eyes. "What I did was wrong and awful and I'm sorry. But I'm hurting too. You're not the only one in pain."

T'Challa scoffs. "Oh really? I call absolute bullshit on that. You have no idea how I've been feeling. Knowing that this whole time, you were falling for Steve, and leading me on to blindly start to fall in love with you! I can't even look at you." He growls. "You disgust me."

Bucky moves his eyes to the side as T'Challa sends him one last glare and walks out of the empty classroom. He blinked rapidly, tears flowing down his pale cheeks, dripping from his chin. Bucky bit his lip harshly, an attempt that always seemed to work, something to silence any noise that wanted to desperately fall from his quivering mouth, and stood, just like a statue, eyes squeezed shut as his ears began to ring.

You disgust me.

Each word was filled with acid, burning into every fibre of Bucky's being. His limbs shook at the impact of his silenced sobs. He was disgusting. Disgusted. In himself, in his actions, he deserved this treatment.

Bucky could feel it. That the day of his drowning in thoughts and disgust and self hatred was here once again, the cold, harsh, wash of pain and heavy guilt only he can feel.

Every thought, feeling, he had been holding back from the moment he had awoken was back, full force, knocking his body around and shaking it. Bruising his skin with harsh words, sinking into his veins and pumping straight to his heart.

In that very moment, it takes all the strength and willpower Bucky has to make a smart choice, to reach for something to drown out his thoughts, stop himself from drowning.