bucky barnes imagines

lxiii. SLEEP TIGHT

It had been almost three days – sixty eight hours, to be exact – since Bucky had even moved an inch. He remained in an uncomfortable plastic chair, one hand resting on top of yours as you lay, unresponsive, in a grubby hospital bed.

You weren't aware of his constant presence; you weren't aware of anything at all. All it had taken was a few seconds, a few bullets to your stomach during a mission gone wrong, and that was it. You were done for, rendered almost lifeless, your skin unnaturally pale, your heartbeat slowing as you fought to beat the odds.

Bucky truly felt as if he was the one dying. Anyone else would've called him selfish, shallow minded, for thinking about himself during a time like this. But the truth was, he needed you. His girl. Without you... well, to put it bluntly, he would rather be dead.

He was losing his mind. Time was passing unbearably slowly, he couldn't bring himself to eat proper meals, hell, he didn't even know if the rest of the team had made it back to the tower safely. He'd dropped everything to be with you, even though it was only hurting him more.

Doctors drifted in and out of the room, performing checks on you every so often. Sometimes they'd glance sympathetically at Bucky as they walked past – he could read people well enough to know that their expressions meant your condition was worsening. Eventually, he resorted to just closing his eyes whenever somebody neared your bed.

He hadn't cried yet. For some reason, he couldn't. It wasn't until Steve visited that he finally broke down, sinking to the floor, sobbing on his knees, still clutching your hand helplessly as his best friend tried to haul him to his feet with a sigh.

In the end, there was nothing they could do for you. Your brain function was severely damaged, your internal organs gradually shutting down, your breathing laboured even with an oxygen mask covering your face. Bucky knew, of course he did. They'd told him that you wouldn't last much longer, but that your death would be peaceful, which was all he could've hoped for at this point.

The team came to say their goodbyes – Steve, Wanda, Tony, everyone. Even Peter managed to get a day off school, shuffling up to your bed with tears in his eyes, placing a potted sunflower on the table adjacent to your head – your favourite flower, though you'd never wake up to see it.

Bucky was the only one there when it happened. The steady beeping of your heart monitor slowed to one long, continuous drone, just like in the movies. The sound was all he could hear, until he shakily stood up, blocking it out. Blocking everything out but you.

He didn't call for a nurse straight away. They'd only make him leave, and he didn't want to, not yet. Instead, he shifted the now pointless oxygen mask to the side, and leaned down to press one last kiss to your cold lips.

"Sleep tight, sweetheart. I'll see you soon."