Into the unknown
Bucky sits outside the building in his car. Steve had offered to come with, and while he had been tempted to accept, he had declined. This was something he wanted to do himself. Needed to do himself, he said.
But now, as he sits trembling in his car, watching the minutes tick by. Getting closer to the time of his appointment. He wishes Steve was here.
All the reasons he shouldn't be here play on a loop in his head.
Worthless
Can't be saved
Shouldn't be saved
You're making this up, there's nothing wrong with you
Beyond help
Good for nothing
Why even try
Too late
And on and on and on.
He feels like he’s going to be sick. He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn't deserve to be here. Showing up at all, is taking away resources from someone else. Someone who actually needs them.
He didn’t want to. He had nothing to say. He didn’t know what to say. THere was nothing wrong with him.
So he was a little sad. So what? Everyone was sometimes.
It didn’t matter. He should go home, call and say he has changed his mind. Apologize for taking up their time. Bucky has made it this long without help. He can keep going. He’s fine.
Bucky pulls the keys back out of his pocket.
He realizes he had taken Steve’s keys. On his way out the door, he had just grabbed a set out of the bowl. Didn’t even notice.
When Bucky had tentatively brought up he might try therapy, Steve had smiled. Said that it might be good for him. But he radiated relief. Not said anything about how he had suggested it before. Asked if he wanted to talk about it, and respected when Bucky said no. Was supportive and listened and offered up information, when it was wanted.
He couldn’t give up on this. Steve deserved more what he was.
Closing his eyes, he takes a couple shaky breaths.
When he opens his eyes, he leaves the care. He locks the door manually. He grips the keys in his pocket like a lifeline.
He steps into the building, gives his name at the desk. His heart thumping loud enough the whole room must hear it.
When he’s told to sit to wait, Bucky sits on the very edge of his seat, leg bouncing.
New thoughts pop into his head.
What if they think I’m faking?
What if there really is no hope for me?
Maybe I should leave. Tell Steve that they thought they couldn’t help me.
Maybe this was a bad idea.
I don’t need to be here, I need to leave.
There’s no hope, they’re gonna tell me I’m a lost cause. If they even think anything is wrong with me. There isn’t. THere can’t be.
It’s all made up. It has to be.
Before he can hump out of his chair and run, someone calls out his name.
“James Barnes?”
Bucky starts, but stands. Shoving his shaking hands into his pockets, as he follows the therapist down the hall.