The invitation sits on your counter, mocking you.
With delicate pink flowers along one side and pretty swirls along the other, you can’t find Bucky anywhere.
Except his name, right there in the center, in intricate calligraphy.
Natasha Romanoff and James Barnes
A few lines down, the word wedding glares at you, makes your stomach flip–no matter how many times you’ve read the invitation.
It’s today–their wedding. It’s why you stand, completely dressed, shifting your weight.
You know you should go. You know you want to go.
So, you slip on your shoes, the heartbreak you know will come be damned.
x
The flowers are the first thing you notice.
They’re on every surface, crawling along every archway–Natasha had done a beautiful job.
You look around, spotting Steve and Tony–people you would have called friends a year ago. Now, you know if you went over to them you’d only cause a conflict.
They shouldn’t have to choose. Not today.
So, you take a seat in the back row–alone–hoping that no one will notice you.
It’s a useless hope, you quickly realize. As soon as your eyes venture to the arch at the front of the garden, you find icy blue eyes–eyes you’d know anywhere–already looking at you.
It makes your breath catch, the way his gaze focuses on you, the way his mouth hangs open, ever slightly.
You can only manage a soft smile, a barely there nod. You mouth, “It’s okay.”
It’s enough. It’s enough to make him mirror the smile, to nod back at you.
It almost makes you cry.
The soft notes of “Dream a Little Dream of Me” begin to play, and everyone stands, turns their faces towards the vision that is Natasha.
It’s the sign of Bucky you had been looking for, the sign of his involvement in this day.
The sign that he loves her.
You look at Bucky.
In his eyes are the beginnings of tears, and there’s a smile on his face.
It’s the look you’d imagined he’d give you one day.
When Natasha reaches him, he takes her hands, presses a kiss to one, softness in his every movement.
Your heart aches in a way you’d thought it no longer could.
With the words, “If everyone could please be seated,” the ceremony begins.
x
The reception is lovely.
You’re not sure why you came, honestly.
Maybe the promise of seeing Bucky, being near him, had been too much to refuse.
You’re looking towards their table, actually, watching Natasha sit down to eat, when a hand settles on your shoulder.
“I can’t believe you came.”
His voice is like honey, dripping over you and taking away the hurt just like it always did.
You turn, look at his grinning face, and stand up to hug him.
“Wouldn’t have missed it.” You chuckle, putting up a good front you hope.
When you pull back, look him in the eyes, you see it isn’t working.
You change the subject.
“She's lovely.” You smile.
“Yeah?” Bucky asks, lip between his teeth. “You really think so?”
You nod. “I do.”
“Thank you,” Bucky says, voice soft.
You’re not sure what he’s thanking you for, not sure you want to know, really.
You smile. “Of course.”
He only looks at you, something in his eyes you’d almost call love.
You sigh. “Well, you should probably get back.” Your voice lowers, “You’re sort of the star of this event.”
Bucky chuckles. “I guess so.”
“I’m happy for you.”
You hope there’s conviction in your voice. You hope he knows you mean it–even if your heart hurts.
“Really?”
There's something like disbelief in Bucky's voice as he quirks a brow.
You suppose, even after all this time, he still knows you.
“Of course.” You nod. “That's all I ever wanted–for you to be happy.”
Bucky smiles, an impossibly soft thing, and then he wraps you in a hug. The feeling of his arms around you taking you back–almost instantly–to when he was yours.
Lips almost touching the shell of your ear, he murmurs, “I'd be happier if it was you up there with me, you know.”
And you do know. You'd known since the look he gave you when you walked into the garden.
He was still yours–in every way except one.
You have to choke back a sob, dig your fingers into his shoulder blades.
“I know,” you mumble, voice muffled against the material of his dress shirt. “I know.”
Tears escape your eyes before you can stop them.
Bucky holds you like he knows, like he knows it’s the last time, can feel the seconds ticking away.
“You’ll always be my girl, honey,” he whispers. “No matter what. Always gonna love you.”
You pull away, look at him with tear filled eyes. “I'll always love you too,” you murmur. Your hand goes to his cheek, fingers achingly soft as he leans into the touch. “Now go,” you whisper.
Bucky leans in, kisses your lips. It’s a quick thing, almost nothing at all, but it sets you on fire.
“It was really good to see you,” he hums.
You smile, tears rolling down your cheeks. “It was really good to see you too.”
“Bye, baby,” he whispers.
“Bye.”
You watch him walk away, walk back to Natasha. You see her turn her eyes away when she sees you, and you duck your head.
You’d feel bad, if you weren’t so sure Bucky loved her.
A quiet song begins to play, and Bucky takes her hand, leads her onto the dance floor. You stay just long enough to watch them fall into step with one another.
The looks of joy on their faces are clear, even in the dim lights.
You nod, gather your things and rise from your chair. You spare one last glance at Bucky, find him too lost in Natasha’s eyes to notice you slipping out.
Whatever you had shared with Bucky had ended, the magic fading away until there was nothing left.
It had been the best thing–for the both of you to say goodbye.
But, now, watching him today, you almost regret it.
It’s when you get into your car that you finally cry–body wracking with sobs that make your chest hurt.
With tears rolling down your cheeks, you drive away.