Notes in the Shadows
Bucky was already beginning to doubt if your apartment would ever be normal. He felt bad for your neighbors. Between the pointe shoes getting thrown–literally thrown, as he had seen a few days ago–and the music now blaring in your kitchen, there seemed to never be a dull moment with you.
You spun around the kitchen, singing along softly to the speaker sitting on the counter. Bucky didn’t know the song, it was too modern and upbeat to be any of the artists he listened to–on the rare occasions when he turned on music. He stood in the doorway and watched you fuss over whatever was in the pan on the stove.
It took you until the end of the song to notice him. You yelped and nearly fell over, eyes wide as saucers. “Barnes! How long have you been there?”
“Long enough to realize how absolutely shit your survival skills are,” he snapped. He watched you straighten and blink in surprise. Maybe that had been a little aggressive for… he subtly checked his watch. 7:48 AM.
“Sorry, guess I’m still a little out of it,” you said with a small chuckle. You checked the pan. “Bacon? I made enough for you if you wanted…but no worries if you don’t,” you quickly added, your hair falling over your face as you dabbed away the residual grease with a paper towel.
Bucky eased off the doorframe, hoping to seem less imposing–but still annoyed, he reminded himself–as he stepped fully inside and made sure the door was locked behind him. He had noticed how you looked a bit like a kicked puppy, all hesitant movements and uncertain questions about how much he wanted and such. He wanted to make sure that he never frightened you, but that everything else frightened you. That you would realize this wasn’t a game.
He figured your quiet singing was better than the anxious discomfort you showed most situations.
He realized he hadn’t responded. You stood there biting your cheek and looking at him hopefully. “Bacon sounds great, doll.” You smiled a bit at him and nodded, pulling out another plate.
(._.)
The walk to work was awkward. You weren’t sure if Bucky was still mad at you, so you didn’t try to start any conversations. He didn’t seem to care enough to make an effort, either. Instead, you tried to tune in to what he was seeing, how he would scan each side street and shop you passed.
His way of life seemed exhausting. You didn’t know how he did it.
You had gone down the rabbit hole online last night, looking at every article you could find about the Winter Soldier project. You knew a little bit, since the story was absolutely everywhere while it was all going down a few years ago, but you hadn’t cared much. After all, it wasn’t like you were ever going to meet the guy. Until you had. And hopefully he wouldn’t get too mad about you learning more about his situation.
At the end of your first rehearsal, you had a bit of a break. So you sat quietly in the hallway with Bucky for a few minutes before you put your pointe shoes back on and headed back into rehearsal. He didn’t say anything, eyes still darting around the nearly-empty hallway constantly. You didn’t say anything either. You wondered if he was mad at you for not being vigilant enough this morning. Or maybe he was just being Bucky. It wasn’t like he was a social person.
(._.)
Bucky wished he was more social. He had wanted to talk to you all morning, make sure you knew why he snapped at you. It was a difficult subject to broach, given your tendency to brush the whole situation off.
He wasn’t sure why that was, yet.
He sat on the uncomfortable bench in that hallway for the rest of the day, watching you in rehearsal. The way you moved, the way all of the dancers moved was mesmerizing. How you could keep all of the movements in your head and still execute them perfectly seemed impossible. Bucky wondered if it came easily to you, or if it was something you had worked on extensively.
He was interrupted a couple hours into the rehearsal by the dancer you had been speaking to yesterday. He remembered her name–Kaylie–after searching his memory a bit. He had done his best to memorize all the dancers who were currently with the NYCB, along with the staff.
“There was a letter outside, and I figured I should give it to you? It has her name on it,” she said, holding out a small, folded sheet of paper. “I haven’t read it, but since all the stuff is happening I wanted to be careful.”
Bucky made sure to thank her as she left, before unfolding the paper. The writing was neatly stenciled. He quickly read the few sentences, furrowing his brow. He hadn’t thought to ask to see one of the previous threats, assuming you’d have gotten rid of them. He regretted it. This message was harrowing enough that it made Bucky uncomfortable instantly and had him looking into the rehearsal space to make sure you were safe.
WATCH YOUR BACK. I KNOW WHERE YOU SLEEP, I SEE YOU SLEEPING. I WILL COME AND KILL YOU.
Had all of the messages been this bad? You and him were going to have to talk about this later, Bucky knew. Then some changes were going to have to be made to your living situation. He didn’t want to take the chance that the writer of this note did know where you lived and how to get inside.
(._.)
“Ready to go?” you asked Bucky, who stood up with a nod. You bade goodbye to your fellow dancers and began the walk home.
You spent a few moments working up the courage to talk to him. You finally settled on, “You’ve been quiet today. Everything okay?”
“Yep, all good,” he replied, which didn’t help you feel secure in the slightest. You figured, though, that pushing would do you no good.
The two of you finally arrived at your apartment, and Bucky made you stand in the doorway while he did his sweep of the small living space, then locked the door behind you and went to check on the bedroom and bathroom. As he did so, you noticed a piece of paper on the cluttered counter that hadn’t been there before. Biting your lip, you opened the newest letter and read it quickly.
Bucky walked back into the room and stopped dead. You held up the letter with a small, shaky smile. “Got some mail.”
He hissed a breath through his clenched teeth. “Another one?” You furrowed your brow as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ragged piece of paper.
“When did you find that one?” you asked, now chewing on your cheek.
He sat on the couch and waited for you to join him before replying, “Kaylie found it earlier and brought it to me.”
“So that’s…”
“Two in one day.”
“What does that one say?” You tried reaching for it, but he pulled his hand out of your reach.
“What does yours say?” he asked instead.
“Technically,” you began, “they’re both mine.”
He fixed you with a stare that had you handing your paper over without another word. He skimmed it quickly before rereading the paper he already held.
“These are the same, word for word. Are they usually this bad?”
You kept chewing your cheek for a moment, thinking. “I mean, the seeing-me-sleep thing is new, but it’s not too bad.”
“I think I want you to move, at least for a while,” Bucky said after a moment, still staring at the twin threats. You started, turning to him and opening your mouth to retort. He cut you off. “We can’t have you living somewhere where this person can easily find you. This is non-negotiable.”
You sunk down into the couch cushions, but nodded. You could live with that, at least for a while. Bucky was already trying to do so much for you, so it was the least you could do.