“This was never going to work in the first place.”
Sam tapes the box shut.
“Maybe I never loved you in the at all.”
He folds open another one, tears making dark spots on the cardboard.
“We’re over.”
He shoves a bundle of shirts into the box, not worrying about the neatness of it all. Sam was leaving, he said it himself. They were over. After an argument that actually had pretty good reason, Sam and Bucky had decided to part ways.
“I can give you a hand, if you want.” Sam didn’t notice Bucky at the doorway, hell, he forgot he was in the apartment. Sam nodded shortly, not brave enough to meet his eye.
“Uh, yeah, sure, thanks.” Sam stumbled over his words, and felt the floor creak beneath him as Bucky made his way over, folding Sam’s clothes and gently placing them into the box. They stayed silent for the entire time, only the sound of heavy breathing and rustling cardboard cutting through the tension.
Without a word, Bucky stacked most, if not all the boxes, and headed for the truck without a second glance. He left Sam alone with his thoughts, which is probably something he’d have to get used to.
Sam still was in a bit of shock that all of this went down. They just… they couldn’t handle what consequences would come with Sam being Captain America. They stopped working. They stopped clicking. It started to become a tiresome round of how much more of this relationship they could find left. Turned out not a lot, because after about 2 years of marriage, Sam’s mission started getting longer, and Bucky’s patience was getting shorter.
If they just had 5 more minutes. If everything was different. If everything was normal. Sam just wanted to see Bucky smile again, like he did when they were okay. Sam just wanted to hear Bucky’s laugh again, the infectious kind that never failed to get Sam laughing too. He wants the feeling of the secure arms wrapped around his waist one more time. He wanted what they had back. But, it was too late. Time moves too quickly for all of us, they’re lucky enough they got the time they ended up having. Sam just wished he could have a bit more of it. Sam just wished he had enough strength to fight back, to stay. But he can’t.
***
“Truck all loaded up?” Sam inquires as he walks outside, trying to blink away any last tears. Bucky doesn’t look too good either.
“Uh, yeah, yeah, you’re good to go.” It was clear how much the words pained Bucky to say, from his face to his voice to his eyes. Everything about it made Sam want to stay. Made Sam want to crash into the taller man’s arms and never ever let go. But Sam had to let go, if he wanted to hurt as little as possible, he had to let this go.
“Um, thanks, Bucky.” Sam said shortly, offering a plastered on smile. The other man offered him a tight lip smile in return. For the first time in weeks, a sea of blue and brown eyes met, and for the first time in weeks, an expression of I’m sorry came over Bucky’s face.
He didn’t speak his mind, though, he just looked away quickly, walking back towards the house slowly. “No problem.” Bucky’s voice was quiet, weak, and Sam wanted nothing more than to wake up from this nightmare, tell himself it wasn’t real, and wake back up in Bucky’s arms. But this was real. The pain and his hurt were so real.
For every smile they shared, thousands of angry words were yelled, cried, muttered, thought, heard, screamed. For every laugh, thousands of silent tears, angry tears, frustrated tears were shed. For every quiet moment, thousands of loud, unbearable moments took place.
Deep cuts hurt more than wide smiles.
Sam stared as Bucky walked slowly back into the house, blinking away the tears desperately. He could see Bucky do it, too. See the internal struggle of not just grabbing onto each other like a lifeline and never letting go. But they couldn’t, because whatever happened, whatever happiness there was before, would shatter even more if Sam stayed.
Sam nodded, and Bucky nodded back. It held 1000 memories
1000 smiles
1000 laughs
1000 quiet, soothing words
1000 I love you’s
1000 loud, happy moments
1000 ways that they both thought this was where they’d spend the rest of their life.
But the nod only said one thing. The one thing that was real, that was really happening.
The nod was their final goodbye.