Marvel Imagines

Bucky Barnes-One Day

You loved Bucky with all of your heart.

From the moment you first met him it was as if there was nothing else in the world but the man standing in front of you.

You remembered it like yesterday.

Devilishly handsome, the lower part of his face covered in light stubble that you could imagine scratching against your palms.
His lips were a plump, rosy color and you remembered your cheeks flushing wildly when his mouth turned up in a hesitant smile. Bucky's shoulders had faintly rippled when he moved forward to shake your outstretched hand and his grip was firm.

A contrast to how closed off he looked.

With the way you had studied him that day, it was clear to Steve just how interested you were in his friend and as time went on, you found more of the brooding man to admire.

He had a little habit of tugging on strands of his hair when he was nervous and this you first noticed when you had asked him if he wanted to join you in the training room.

It was cute, the way his nose would scrunch and how he'd pull his hair between his fingers in a thoughtful way before going along with whatever you would ask of him. You liked to imagine running your own hands through his mop of hair, enjoying the feeling of his silk tresses as they caressed your fingertips.

He didn't speak a lot, but when he did the tone of his voice was uncertain, a bit lost as though he didn't exactly know why he answered the way he did. You liked to talk to him anyways, always trying to prod answers out of him relentlessly. Only when the half smile would disappear from his lips and the twinkle in his eyes would fade did you know it was time to stop.

Bucky's eyes.

They told stories that you knew he would never feel comfortable telling much less remembering. You loved to joke with him and make him laugh, to spend time with him until the sun went down and the stars would shine in the velvet black sky. Nights spent with each other were special as you grew closer to Bucky and you could tell he was enjoying the prospect of getting to know you.

Of falling in love, even.

He would always make sure not to hurt you, promising that he'd never do such a thing even though an idea like that was far from your mind. Nothing could compare to the gleam in his eyes, not even the stars, whenever he gazed at you with those deep-set orbs of his that you felt could penetrate you to your very core.

You loved Bucky's eyes.

You considered them to be the true beauty that brought together the whole of who he was and you never got tired of looking at him. That's what they were.

Beautiful.

Until the night they became deadly.

The night they lost its twinkle, distorting into shards of cruel glass.

The night every story that was hidden in his eyes came to life.

The night every promise to protect you and every solemn word that he'd said about never hurting you was wiped from his mind and the man you'd come to love with every fiber of your being tried his hardest to kill you.

You missed his eyes.

When he came to, they were different.

You could see the pain, a fresh new horror story burned into his memory. That's when you knew you truly loved him, that you'd do anything for him because you'd give up the world to take away his pain even if it meant taking it upon yourself.

He was never the same after that.

His eyes never twinkled for you anymore.

His little smile was gone.

He shrunk away from your touch, didn't allow himself anywhere near you and refused to talk to you, lost in remorse for his actions.

So, when he disappeared leaving a handwritten note for you behind, you didn't go after him when the others did. You stood, staring out the living room window and clutching the note as though it was a connection to him, tears falling silently down your cheeks.

That's when you saw him.

Stepping out of the shadows and looking right at you, bag over his shoulder and baseball cap over his head. You did nothing, but the ragged parts of your heart that still functioned fluttered at the sight of him, yearning for him and betraying the feeling of pain you held onto.

His eyes, those pure orbs tainted by years of torture, twinkled for you once more before he disappeared into the night.

You kept that image in your head.

One last twinkle.

A sliver of hope that maybe, one day, he would come back to you and for him, it was a silent promise.

That he would.

One day.

————-

this was a writing prompt to

"write about the twinkle in someone's eye
without any dialogue."