without me

The sound of the lock turning makes Bucky tense immediately. His left fist curls as the doors open and heavy footsteps follow. Bucky stays still, waiting. The doors close, the keys clink in a bowl in the entry hallway. The footsteps come nearer and, before Bucky knows it, Steve enters the living room, his shield falling to the ground with a loud bang.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve says,his shoulders sagging, sounding worn out and tired.

Bucky turns around, just in time to see Steve wincing as he flops down on the couch, pulling Cap’s helmet off his head. “Steve…” he starts, not knowing how to finish. Asking if Steve’s alright is pointless—the blonde is obviously in pain, and Bucky knows him too well to expect Steve to admit it. Bucky can’t ask where he’s been, either—all Avengers’ stuff is classified, and he doesn’t want to put Steve in a position where he has to choose between telling Bucky the truth or siding with his team. Bucky chooses to go with the safest option. “Hungry?”

Steve nods, his eyelids half-closed, and Bucky gets up. He looks over the man in front of him, taking in his disheveled appearance, the dirt on his face and blood stains on his uniform. He decides to deal with that later; first, he needs Steve to have some energy.

Bucky goes to the kitchen and heats up mac’n’cheese that he made yesterday. Peeling an orange in the meantime, he puts it on a separate plate and brings both to the living room. He sits on the couch, leaving a bit of space between them, and puts the orange on the coffee table, placing mac’n’cheese on Steve’s lap. The blonde looks down, then his eyes travel to the fruit in front of him. Steve’s lips curl when looks at Bucky with so much gratitude in his eyes, the brunet has to look away.

“Thank you,” Steve says quietly, his arm reaching out to squeeze Bucky’s knee. The brunet just shrugs, as Steve takes the plate from him and digs in. He devours the meal, then puts the empty plate on the coffee table and leans back, hissing quietly.

“What is it?” Bucky asks, biting his lip.

“Nothing,” Steve dismisses, closing his eyes.

Bucky sighs. Getting Steve to admit he’s been hurt has always been tough, but in this new century it’s even harder. Bucky can’t help but notice that Steve changed. He’s still the righteous asshole that he was before, unable to steer clear of any fight, but now he’s even more careless, and more stubborn. Steve seems to be convinced that he cannot show any weakness; that everything he does has to be all or nothing. He doesn’t ask for help, he never admits when something takes a toll on him. The way Steve fights is even more risky now, as Steve doesn’t seem to think about the consequences. Every fight is life or death.

“Steve—”

“I’m fine Buck, really,” Steve assures, cracking one eye open to peer at Bucky.

“Your suit is literally bloodied!” Bucky’s heartbeat picks up. Steve may fool all the other “friends” he has, but Bucky knows better. He always has. “Steve, we’ve been—”

He doesn’t finish, as the doors to the apartment fly open and someone comes inside. Bucky’s muscles tense, his right hand flying to his waistband for his handgun, his left already clenched. He crouches down on the floor while Steve sits up straight, eyeing his shield that he left near the couch.

“Hey Cap, you left your phone in the jet, so—” Tony Stark enters the room, still in his iron suit—they’ve just landed after all—then freezes as soon as his eyes land on Bucky. He looks between the brunet and Steve, a look of hurt and confusion on his face.

“Tony—” Steve starts, raising slowly. He doesn’t get a chance to finish, though, as Stark narrows his eyes at Bucky. “What. Is. He. Doing. Here,” the man hisses through clenched teeth, throwing Steve’s phone in the general direction of the couch. “Do you not know what he’s done?!”

“It wasn’t him!” Steve raises his palms up, seeing how Tony tenses, his fists clenched and eyes burning a hole through Bucky.

“So what, you’re just hanging out with all ex Hydra assassins?” Stark asks, his eyes never losing the sight of Bucky.

“He’s not what you think he is,” Steve states calmly, taking slow, small steps towards the man, and wincing slightly at the pain.

“As far as I know, he’s fucking Hydra,” Stark spits out, his face twisted with disgust.

“He was brainwashed, Tony, he didn’t have much of a choice!”

“I was captured, too, and you don’t see me running around killing people!” Stark tightens his fists, his nostrils flaring.

“It wasn’t him!” Steve’s voice breaks a little, pleading.

“I don’t care. He killed my Mom,” Stark snarls, then raises his palms and blasts Bucky. The brunet manages to dodge it, jumping behind the couch.

“No!” Steve yells, pushing Tony back with all his strength, then ducks for his shield. He blocks Tony’s next blast with it, screaming for Bucky to get out of there.

Bucky pays him no mind, and instead stands, straightening up and tensing all his muscles, which makes him looks not only bigger, but also fucking scary, and strides towards Stark, firing bullets as he goes. He shoots at the man’s suit, staying clear of all the points where it could cause Stark actual physical harm.

Stark raises his hand again, but Steve is quicker; he swirls his shield from where he’s crouching on the ground, hitting Stark’s hand and dismantling the glove. Tony screams, but that doesn’t stop him from raising his other hand and blasting at Bucky.

As Bucky allowed the Soldier to take the lead now, he raises his metal arm, blocking the blast. Some of the joints between the plates burn, but, by now, Bucky knows how to fix it. He’s close enough to Stark to hit him with his right hand, letting the metal cool for a moment. Tony dodges the first blow, but the second connects right with his jaw. Stark hisses, as he stumbles backwards, and shoots a blast at Bucky’s legs, making him lose his footing. Bucky falls to the ground, but quickly rolls to the side to dodge another hit. By this time, Steve’s on his legs again, having picked up the shield, and he crowds Tony near the wall, taking all the man’s blows and blocking with his shield. They both got a couple of hard hits in, and Bucky can clearly see Steve’s losing his strength and focus. Stark seems to notice, too, as he hits Steve straight in his stomach, then kicks his legs from under him. Steve falls with a loud shout, his shield falling too far for his hand to reach.

Bucky quickly takes Steve’s place, and decides to not pull any punches. They need to end this, and they need to end this now, before the neighbors call the cops, or, worse, the rest of the Avengers comes down too.

The Soldier already figured out Tony’s soft spots, and he goes straight for them. As Stark isn’t wearing his helmet, Bucky connects his fist with Tony’s jaw a couple times. When the man in front of him is panting and spitting blood, Bucky closes his metal fist on Stark’s arc reactor, trying to rip it out. The man powers the reactor up and Bucky knows he’s screwed—from this close, his arm won’t survive the blast, but Steve’s still on the ground, so there’s nothing he can do.

Bucky tries his hardest to rip the device, and just as it starts to get loose, it goes off. Bucky flies back with a shout, his metal arm no longer attached to his body. He hits the wall on the opposite of the room and falls to the ground with a loud bang, the wires going out of the remains of his arm sparkling and burning. Bucky’s panting, his entire body feeling like it’s on fire. The connections of the arm to his brain cause electroshocks and he’s writhing on the ground, his own screams ringing in his ears.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky sees Steve hitting Stark hard, then throwing him on the ground. “He’s my friend!” The blonde shouts, reaching for his shield, his eyes full of rage and fury.

“So was I,” Tony replies, but Steve just lands on him and hits him square in the jaw.

Steve, then, raises his shield, his muscles taut. Stark covers his face with his hands, but Steve brings the shield down on the arc reactor with so much strength, the thing shatters and loses power.

Steve stands up immediately, and goes straight to Bucky, falling to his knees near the brunet. “Bucky! Buck, talk to me please,” he pleads, his voice shaking.

Bucky looks up at him, but can’t speak, his teeth clenched as to stop the screaming.

“Please, Bucky, please!” His eyes are filled with worry, as he leans down and takes Bucky’s sticky hair off of his sweaty face. “What do you need me to do?”

But Bucky stays silent, biting his lip instead. He keeps looking at Steve’s face, though, trying to tone down the spasms.

“You don’t deserve that shield,” Tony says, as he stands up and kicks it, hurt and betrayal twisting his face. “My father gave it to you!”

Steve’s jaw clenches, and Bucky can swear there’s steam coming out of his ears. The man looks at Stark, then at the shield. Steve reaches out for it, then hurls it into Tony so hard the man is pushed away, his back landing on the wall. Stark seems to get the clue, and, limping, goes for the doors, huffing and groaning under his breath.

Steve’s attention is back on Bucky now, as he caresses the man’s face and keeps soothing him, looking for any way to relieve Bucky’s pain. “Your arm. How do I turn it off?”

You don’t, is the first thing on Bucky’s mind. But, even the Soldier knows his body won’t take this for much longer. So, with his right hand, he taps Steve’s upper arm four times, each one going more to the right. He can just hope Steve will understand.

The man frowns, but then looks at the remains of Bucky’s left arm. “Fourth plate?” Steve asks, and Bucky nods.

Steve moves to Bucky’s left, and leans closer, careful not to touch any wire going out of the arm. He notices two small screws, and runs to the kitchen. Steve comes back with a couple of screwdrivers, then checks which one fits best. Once he’s decided on one, he looks at Bucky for confirmation. The brunet nods, so Steve unscrews the first screw. Bucky shuts his eyes tight, but he can’t stop the scream that rips out of his throat.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Steve keeps mumbling in a soothing voice, taking the other screw out as quickly as possible.

When the plate opens, he sees an array of wires, and looks helplessly at Bucky. The wires are all different colors, mixed together and plugged in different places.

Bucky reaches out with his right arm and taps Steve’s hand twice. “Two wires?” Steve asks, and Bucky nods. “Any order?” Bucky nods again. “Okay. Green?” Bucky shakes his head, as much as he can, anyway. “Yellow? Red? Purple?” At the last one, Bucky taps his hand twice. “Purple is second?” Steve makes sure, and, when Bucky nods again, he goes back to examining other colors. “Blue? Black? Gray?” Bucky taps his hand once. “Okay, gray then purple,” Steve nods back.

The blonde lets out a breath, then pulls the wires out, in order. Bucky screams one last time, before his body stills and his brain is no longer being fried.

A broken sob escapes Steve’s throat, as he leans down and puts his head on Bucky’s stomach, the stress of his friend being electrocuted finally leaving him. Bucky takes small breaths, trying to regain any feeling in his body. Everything hurts, and he’s sure he has new wounds on his left shoulder. His mind is hazy, and his eyes go unfocused as he looks at the golden halo laying on his stomach.

Bucky knows they’re compromised. There is no chance none of the neighbors didn’t hear them fighting and the cops are probably on their way. Not to mention that all of the Avengers probably know he’s back now, and most of them aren’t his greatest fans. On top of that, he’s just lost his greatest weapon and he has no way of repairing the arm himself, not to mention making another one.

But for now… He’s alive. And, most importantly, Steve’s alive.

__

Bucky’s woken up by a nightmare, his body sweaty and shaking. He opens his eyes and scans the room. He and Steve managed to change and leave the apartment, hiding in one of the abandoned warehouses Bucky’s found before coming back to Steve. He looks out a broken window and realizes it’s late in the afternoon, the sun setting down and painting the sky in red and orange. Bucky tries to prop himself on his elbows, but falls right back, groaning. He’s forgotten that he no longer has a left arm. Great. Fan-fucking-tastic. The man groans under his breath and sits up, using his right hand. His left side hurts like a son of a bitch, his skin knitting itself back together. He runs his sweaty palm down his face, then looks around. Steve is still asleep not so far away from him, his even breathing the only sound in the empty space. Bucky looks at him, at his face, so peaceful, without any worries.

Bucky drags himself up, biting down hard on his lower lip to keep quiet as the pain rips through his body. He goes to stand by the broken window and thinks about everything that’s happened yesterday. The Avengers know now that he’s back. What’s worse, they know what Steve is willing to do for him. And sure, it makes Bucky feel a little bit better to know that Steve still has his back, but tearing them apart is the last thing he wanted. He knew that at some point his reemergence would have to come up, but he’d rather it be after he and Steve talked about… well, everything. They’ve been tip-toeing around so many things ever since Azzano, Bucky’s not sure what’s true and what’s his imagination anymore. Sure, he has his memories back, but how many are actually true? He and Steve never talked about it, never had a heart-to-heart about what they meant to each other then, or what they are now. The very thought of that conversation makes Bucky’s stomach clench. And now, after yesterday, it only got worse.

Now, it’s not only about the two of them, but also about Steve, the rest of the Avengers, and the whole damn world. Because if Steve really gives up his shield, what is he going to say? That his dead best friend from childhood turned out to be not so dead after all, just brainwashed by Hydra and made into the most feared assassin of the last century, and then somehow found his memories and is now his own person? Besides, there are people who want Bucky dead—not just imprisoned, but dead and buried six feet under.

And Bucky can’t risk that, he can’t have Steve throw away everything he stood for, everything he fought for, just so he could be reunited with Bucky, who’s not even the same man he was back in the day. Hell, he’s not even the same Bucky whom Steve’s saved from Zola’s table. He was turned inside out, his memories taken away from him, made to kill, to torture, to take lives without a blink of an eye. Both Barnes and the Soldier live inside him, and he’s learned how to make peace with that.

He’s not so sure Steve can handle that, not right now.

See, the thing is, Steve is just as lost as Bucky was when the whole shitshow of him getting his memories back started. Steve was brought back and immediately jumped into another fight. He’s a soldier, a captain bound to protect and serve his people. Ever since Steve got back, he hasn’t had a chance to come to terms with who he is, who he wants to be in a new century. He threw himself into this whole Avengers bullshit, without taking time to fully process what’s happened to him. Bucky’s had his chance to search himself—Steve never had time for that. He fought one person after another, never having enough time to sit back and think about what he’s lost. And he’s lost plenty—not only Bucky, but also Peggy Carter, his unit, his chance at a normal life. Steve crushed a plane into the ocean to stop Hydra, and woke up only to find out his sacrifice didn’t do anything—Hydra was alive and well, changing the course of the history and infiltrating governments and intelligence agencies all around the world.

Steve is thought to be a symbol to the nation, a hero to the world, but no one ever stopped to think what the man gave up. And Bucky can’t do that to him. He loves Steve too much to make him quit the only thing that he knows, the one thing that’s driven him all his life. Steve has always been a fighter, always up to protect those in need. Bucky can’t ask him to give that all up for him—a forgotten soldier, a nobody, or the most feared assassin, whichever he is.

Bucky sinks to the ground as the realization hits him. He takes in a shaky breath, a tremor shaking his body. He can’t drag Steve down with himself.

Bucky’s a broken man, a forgotten figure, someone who doesn’t quite make it into history books. But Steve? He’s a hero, an icon, a perfect soldier, the Captain. And Bucky’d rather live with a broken heart, than knowing he forced Steve to do something the man didn’t want in the first place.

Steve wakes shortly after Bucky gets himself together. The blonde stirs, groaning, then rubs his eyes and sits up. “Hey, Buck,” he sends a small smile to the brunet, then pops his spine.

“Steve,” Bucky tries to smile, too, but it falls flat and he knows it. He can’t pretend, not anymore. He knows there’s no putting it for later, they’ve been doing that dance for too long as it is.

Bucky throws a bottle of water Steve’s way, and the blonde catches it, taking a couple sips. He runs a hand through his hair, then stands up, going to the window Bucky’s next to. “So, what’s the plan, now?”

“Steve, I—” Bucky starts, but stops shortly, shaking his head. “Sit down?”

Steve shrugs and sinks down to the floor next to the brunet. He bumps Bucky’s knee, putting his arms on his tights and leaning down. “How’s the arm?”

Bucky wiggles his left shoulder, the remainings of his metal arm wrapped in a black tee to prevent the wires from getting tangled into his clothes. “Hurts like a sunuvabitch.”

“I’m so sorry,” Steve says earnestly, and Bucky can’t look into his eyes without having his heart in his throat.

“What’re you sorry for? ‘S not your fault.”

“I don’t know, Buck, I… I just am, okay? I’m sorry.”

The brunet sighs, his shoulders slumping. “Steve I… We need to talk. I can’t do this anymore.”

“You can’t do what?” Steve frowns, confused.

“This! I can’t do this,” Bucky motions his hand between the two of them, “anymore, okay?!” He lets out a breath, his hand running through his hair.

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” Steve looks up at him with those damned blue eyes and Bucky wants to scream, his emotions taking the better of him.

“What are we doing here, Steve? Seriously, what are we, even? I don’t… You…” the brunet groans, lacking the words to express everything that’s been going through his head since he broke the conditioning. He fiddles with the hem of his shirt, frowning at the lack of his left arm. “What am I? To you?”

Steve blinks, taken aback. “Buck, I—I thought we were… I thought there was something. Between us.”

“I thought so too. But then there was war, there was Carter and I—look, I don’t blame you for falling for her, alright? She was a damn fine dame, I’ll give you that, but you didn’t even have the guts to tell me that,” Bucky still avoids Steve’s eyes, knowing his emotions are raw on his face. His eyes are unfocused, moving around the room quickly.

“We just—”

“You don’t have to say just what you did, Steve, I already know. Or did you forget that night in the Alps, before that goddamn train happened?” Bucky stands up abruptly, losing his balance for second, then turning his back to the blonde. He takes a deep breath, to calm himself at least a bit. “I’m not surprised, I’m really not. I just thought… I dunno what. That we meant something, that I meant something.”

“What the hell are you talking about? There was nothing between me and Peggy! Sure, I liked her, I liked her a lot, even, but nothing happened Buck, not until I was getting on that plane,” Steve stands up now, too, taking a step closer to Bucky, then pacing the empty space. “Do you honestly think you don’t matter to me?” He asks, his voice trembling, as he stills and looks at the brunet.

“I dunno, do I? Or was I just a mean to an end, a fool who’d do anything for you, a—a person who’d always put you back on your feet just so you’d take advantage of them?” Bucky turns, his right fist clenched, his breath ragged.

“You think that little of me?” Steve’s voice breaks, hurt and confusion twisting his face.

“I don’t know what I think!” Bucky throws his hand up, turning back around and pacing the room. “I think you’re Captain America, a hero, a goddamn American icon. And I’m… I’m no one, Steve. Not Bucky Barnes, definitely not the Winter Soldier. Just another idiot who died for his country and remains forgotten,” he stops, and turns around, looking at the blonde in front of him and scratching his abdomen unconsciously.

Steve’s face is crumpled with pain, his mouth slightly open, his eyes shining. Bucky hates himself for doing that to the blonde. He hates himself for being the one who hurts Steve so much, especially since he knows Steve loved him, at least at some point in his life. Bucky can’t hold it against Steve that he fell for Carter; any man would do so. He also can’t take his frustrations about not being able to love Steve properly in their times on the blonde. But…but. He’s tired of walking on eggshells, he’s tired of never being enough, he’s tired of all those misunderstandings and concealments. Bucky wants it out in the open, all the truth about what they were, what they are, if anything he’s ever believed in was true.

Because he really believed Steve loved him. At some point, it was the only thing that kept him alive, the only thing that stopped him from doing something reckless and getting himself killed in the field. He wants to know, he needs to know if any of that was true, or if he went through all this pain—the war, the camp, Hydra, and brainwashing—for nothing. If he fought so hard to live, only to find out that whatever they had was all in his head.

Bucky knows damn well what his feelings for Steve are, and what he needs to do to keep him safe; Steve’s answer won’t change the decision he’s already made. He just needs to know if he should keep fighting, or just give up, and let Steve live his life.

“I never forgot you, Buck,” Steve says quietly, looking down at the floor, his shoulders slumped and his hands clasped together in front of him.

“You never talked about me, either,” Bucky huffs, knowing it’s petty and childish, but unable to stop himself from voicing the exasperation he’s feeling.

“What was I supposed to say?” Steve raises his voice a little, a frown on his face. “When I woke up, your death was still a fresh memory for me, Buck. I didn’t have time to process it, to—to come to terms with losing you. And talking about it was too painful. Besides, what would I even say? Calling you a friend wouldn’t even cover half of what you were for me. You were my everything, Buck, you still are,” he adds quietly, looking down. “I couldn’t talk about you without lying, and you know damn well I can’t do that.”

“You’ve been doing that pretty damn good so far,” Bucky sulks, his jaw jutted out, as he tries to cross his arms in front of him. When he realizes his mistake he groans, his head tipped back, his right fist tightened.

“I don’t lie, Buck, you know that—”

“Cut the bullshit, Steve, our entire life was a lie!” The brunet yells, throwing his arm up, his nostrils flaring. “We never got to live our truth. I was lying pretending I didn’t love you, and you lied on every goddamn enlistment form till you finally got what you wanted,” Bucky makes a vague gesture towards Steve’s body, a pointed look on his face. “You lied to me back then when you didn’t tell me about Carter, and you’re lying to me even now.”

“You never asked about Peggy!” Steve’s breathing is hard, his face set and his palms curled into tight fists. “I tried to reach you back then, God knows I tried. But you never let me in, you kept avoiding me or ignoring me and I couldn’t—”

“Oh please,” Bucky shakes his head, lifting his eyebrows and scoffing. “I saw how you looked at her. You gave her this look, the one I got from you only once. Only she got it every goddamn time you saw her.”

“Are you honestly blaming this on Peggy right now? She has nothing to do with it—”

“She has everything to do with it! I stayed out of the way just so you could be happy with her without me being constantly there.”

“So you admit you were avoiding me, then?” Steve asks, his voice flat and face blank.

Bucky swallows down. “I did this for you—”

“Bullshit!” Steve raises his voice, pointing an accusatory finger at Bucky. “You did this for yourself, so don’t you dare blame it on her now. You cut me out as soon as you realized I wasn’t your charity project anymore.”

Bucky lets out a hysterical laugh, short and sharp. “Do you even hear yourself?” He shakes his head, frowning. “A charity project? Steve I fucking died so you could be happy—”

“What?” The blonde freezes on the spot, blinking, his face a mix of hurt, confusion, and sorrow.

“Fuck it,” Bucky mumbles quietly, then runs a hand through his hair, deciding to bring all the cards to the table. “I—I twisted my hand so the railing would give up. I wanted to fall, Steve. I wanted you to have a life, a happy one, where you could actually be with someone you loved,” Bucky admits quietly, not really able to look the blonde in the eyes. He looks at the left of Steve’s shoulder, his eyebrows drawn together and his palm sweating.

“So you decided to kill yourself?” Steve voice shakes and breaks, his eyes bright blue from the tears shining in them.

“Didn’t work, did it?” Bucky asks ironically, making a vain attempt at a smile.

The brunet looks at Steve and the man’s shaking, his expression crumpled with pain. Steve’s shoulders are sagged, his entire posture looking beaten and defeated. Bucky closes the distance between them in a few shorts steps, his right palm flying to Steve’s cheek.

“Stevie, hey, look at me,” the brunet whispers, seeing as Steve’s eyes are unfocused, his breath ragged. “Rogers, come on,” Bucky strokes the blonde’s cheek, trying to bring him back to the present.

“You tried to kill yourself,” Steve mumbles, his eyes taking in the man in front of him.

“I tried to give you a chance at a happy life,” Bucky says quietly, Steve’s breath hot on his cheek.

“There is no happy life without you, Buck,” Steve admits, defeated.

The brunet exhales through his nose slowly, taking a step back, but still staying within an arm’s reach. “Tell me the truth, then,” Bucky asks, his eyes never leaving Steve’s.

The blonde juts out his jaw, determined, and swallows. “I loved you. I’m sorry I never said it, but it’s the God’s honest truth,” Steve lets out a breath, deflecting. “For what it’s worth, I… I still do.”

“You love him, and I’m not the same person anymore, Steve,” Bucky comments quietly, sadly. His voice is barely over a whisper, filled with emotions.

“You think I don’t know that?” Steve looks up, his jaw set hard, challenging. “I know you’ve changed. God, Buck, you’ve been through so much I know—I know. But I’ve changed too. And I still love you.”

“You don’t know me, Steve!” Bucky throws his hand up, which makes him lose his balance once more and swear quietly under his breath, then starts pacing again..

“You won’t let me in!” The blonde yells, then takes a deep breath to calm himself. “I know you don’t think much of yourself. I know you blame yourself for what you did, even though you had no control over that. I know… I know you still have nightmares, you don’t trust people, you constantly look over your shoulder. But I also know you love watching the sunset. You love walking on the beach and feeling sand between your fingers. You love that stray cat that sleeps in our staircase and you love the feeling of sunshine on your face. And—and no matter what you say, I know you still love me. I see it in your eyes, Buck. You look at me exactly like you did all those years ago. And I love you, too. So why… why won’t you let me?” Steve asks in a small voice, worrying his lower lip between his teeth.

Bucky stops and looks at the man in front of him. His mouth opens, then closes, his jaw working. “I can’t,” is what finally leaves his mouth, and he runs a hand through his hair. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Do what exactly?” Steve asks, confused, his eyes hardening.

“Throw away everything you know for me. You’ll end up hating me for it, and I can’t—I couldn’t live with myself.”

“Bucky, just… Fucking listen to me. You’re everything that matters to me, the rest is nothing—”

“Steve,” Bucky whines, taking a step closer. “I’ve had time to adjust. I’ve had time to figure out this century. But you, you jumped right back into the fight, without taking a minute to actually process what happened. Do you even know what you like? Did you have time to focus on nothing else but yourself? You said it yourself, you didn’t process what happened to you, you didn’t seek any help, didn’t take any time off. You joined the Avengers straight up, and have been fighting ever since.”

“Yes, I have—”

“No, no you haven’t,” Bucky interrupts, cocking his eyebrow pointedly. “You’ve been Captain America for so long you forgot how to be Steve Rogers again. And that’s who I love. I don’t care about Cap, I care about little Stevie Rogers, the Brooklyn spitfire who didn’t know when to quit. And I love him Steve, God knows I do. But… But I need to know he’s still here,” he points to Steve’s heart, and then places his palm on the blonde’s chest.

Steve inhales, his eyes glassy. “I’m still the same, Buck,” he murmurs, curling his hand around Bucky’s.

“Are you, though? Because I haven’t seen you do anything you enjoy in so long I have trouble believing that. When was the last time you drew? Went to a museum? Sat and read a goddamn book or even took a walk?”

“I do this all the time, Buck,” Steve huffs.

“You do things other people tell you to catch up on! You end up hating half of this stuff, Steve,” Bucky gives him an unimpressed look, his chest heavy with how hard he’s breathing.

“I do not,” the blonde mumbles, looking down.

“Stevie,” Bucky breaths, shaking his head. “Before you drop that shield for me, find out what you like. What you enjoy, what brings a smile on your face.”

“You do that,” Steve attempts a smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Punk,” the brunet rolls his eyes, licking his lips.

“Jerk,” Steve responds immediately.

“I’m serious, though. Find friends outside the Avengers, just… live for yourself for a while.”

Steve stays quiet for a minute, breathing deeply. He looks at the man in front of him, and squeezes the brunet’s hand that’s still placed over his heart. “Why does it feel like a goodbye, Buck?” He asks in a small voice, his eyes cast down.

Bucky lets out a quiet breath. His heart breaks, Steve looking at him with such sad eyes, his expression like a kicked puppy. But Bucky knows he has to do it. He has to leave to let Steve breathe and be his own person. Their codependency runs so deep Bucky tried to kill himself so Steve could be happy, and that was even before everything with Hydra. God knows what he’ll be willing to do now, and vice versa. Steve’s already fought one of his teammates, is willing to drop everything he knows. And for what? For some kind of old love, one that never even had a chance to flourish?

The relationship they have now isn’t safe, isn’t healthy. Bucky had time to find himself, to learn himself again, to take ownership of his mind and his actions. He’s still willing to do whatever it takes to keep Steve safe but it’s different now, somehow. He knows he can’t depend on Steve, can’t expect the blonde to have solutions to all his problems like he did back then. Their bond is strong, dangerously so. And don’t get him wrong, Bucky doesn’t want it to lessen—he needs it to grow, just like they did. He knows now, that in order for them to be truly happy they both need to be their own person first, and belong to each other second. And Bucky feels that way, now, after everything that happened. After he needed to rely on himself, and himself only, to survive.

But Steve?

He traded one war for another, woke up in the new century and immediately threw himself in another fight. Sure, he does other things, too, but his primary focus is still the Avengers. From the little time they spent together, Bucky realized that Steve lives in a constant war. His shield is always at the ready, his uniform always packed and out the closet in case it’s needed. Bucky can’t blame him for that, though, the world really does need the Avengers. He can, however, point it out. Make Steve realize that there is more to life than unending war, constant fighting for people who often don’t even appreciate his help. Steve’s reckless, he’s always been that way, but the things he does now are straightly suicidal. Jumping out the planes, out the buildings, on grenades. Steve dives head on into any fight he picks up, without thinking about the consequences. And Bucky can’t live like that, not if he wants to keep his sanity intact. He can’t join the Avengers, he won’t, and he can’t just sit at home waiting for Steve to come back with broken bones and bloody nose. It’ll drive him mad.

So he has to do what’s best for both of them. He has to leave now, or he never will. He’d only grow more bitter, and Steve would blame Bucky for making him feel bad about fighting. Bucky can’t also ask him to drop the mantle of Cap—right now, it’s all Steve has. For them to actually work in this new, fucked up century, Steve needs to find himself. Forget this whole Cap persona and focus on Steve Rogers, the one he seems to have forgotten.

Call Bucky selfish, he couldn’t care less. He’s had his fair share of pain, of suffering, of confusion and hurt. He wants to live, to enjoy the little things. With no Hydra, there’s no need for the Winter Soldier no more. And yeah, maybe he’ll always look behind his shoulder, but he refuses to join the fight again.

Bucky knows Steve loved him, and maybe still does. And that is enough for him. He can live without being mentioned by the history books, without being remembered by anyone other than Steve. It’s only Steve that matters. And now that Bucky knows he matters too, he’s ready to put the past behind. He’s ready to start this new chapter of his life, one where he’s neither the Winter Soldier nor James Buchanan Barnes. He’s Bucky, and he’ll enjoy life till it kills him.

He just has to find a way to tell that to the man in front of him.

“It’s not,” Bucky promises, though judging by the skeptical look on Steve’s face, he’s not really convincing. “Fuck, Steve, look.... I love you, okay? Always have, always will. But I can’t sit at home doing nothing while you’re out there, fighting fuck knows who. It’s driving me insane. And I won’t let you quit, not for my sake. You have to want this for yourself. You wanna drop that shield, fine. But do it for you, not for me. Or it’ll kill us both.”

“What do you want me to do, then?” Steve asks, his voice small. He’s visibly hurting and Bucky hates himself for it.

“God, Steve, I—” he breaths, closing his eyes, the pain on Steve’s face being to much for Bucky. “What do you want?”

“I want to be with you! Buck, don’t you understand? I fucking love you!” Steve takes a step back and turns around, dragging his hand through his hair.

“Do you wanna drop the shield? Leave Cap behind and never look back?” Bucky asks, his voice slightly raised.

“I—I will, for you,” Steve turns back around, giving Bucky a challenging look.

“Not for me, Steve. Take me out of the picture for a goddamn second and think about whether you’re really ready to say goodbye to Captain America,” Bucky levels Steve’s eyes, jutting out his jaw.

They stand like that for a minute, wearing each other out. Finally, Bucky breaks, looking down and scratching his chin.

“Would you leave the Avengers if I wasn’t here?” The brunet asks, quietly. He knows there’s no point in challenging Steve now, the man never backed down from a challenge.

Steve takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly. “No,” he whispers.

“Then don’t. Don’t do it for me, I couldn’t live with that. Do it for yourself, whenever you’re ready. And when you do, I’ll be there. I’ll always be there. Till the end of the line, and all that,” Bucky attempts a smile, though he knows it looks as fake as it feels. His eyes are glassy now, too, the realization of what this all actually means downing on him now.

Bucky was so caught up in thinking about Steve, he never even stopped to think about how this would affect him. Steve was always there, always at the back of his mind. Through their teenage years, through war, through his time under Hydra, through the last two years when he was finally free. Steve was always the only thing that kept him going, the only thing waiting for him at the end of it all. To leave now, without being forced to… it hurts. It makes Bucky’s heart sink deep down, his stomach clenching and his palm sweating. But he has his answer. The one he knew from the very beginning, yet was dreading all the same. There is no turning back now.

“Why are you doing this?” Steve asks so quietly, his voice so broken, Bucky wouldn’t pick it up if not for the serum running through his veins.

“Because I love you,” the brunet whispers, taking a step closer. “Because I know you and I know myself. And I know it’s not the end, Stevie.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“We both died and somehow came back to the living. Nothing can keep us apart, we’ll always come back to each other.”

Steve shakes his head, a tear falling from his eye. Bucky wipes it with his thumb, then leaves his palm on Steve’s face, cupping his cheek.

“I fucking love you, Rogers,” Bucky rests his forehead against Steve’s, closing his eyes, the blonde’s breath hot on his cheek. “You’re the one for me, always were. My true north, my polar star, my goddamn sun.”

“Buck,” Steve breathes and closes the gap between them. It’s slow and sweet, and over way too quickly.

“Take all the chances you can, Steve. Live, laugh, win wars with fucked up aliens. And when you’re ready… I’ll be there. I’ll always be there,” Bucky murmurs, then places a chaste kiss on the corner of Steve’s lips.

“Are you giving up on us?” Steve asks, his eyes closed, his voice shaky.

“Fuck no,” Bucky breathes, shaking his head. “No, I want to give us a chance we never had. I want to live with you, not just be by your side. So I’ll wait. As long as it takes, Stevie, I’ll wait for you,” Bucky promises strongly, his hand curling in the front of the blonde’s shirt. “Just promise you’ll come home to me.”

“‘Course I will, Buck. Till the end of the line, and all that,” Steve murmurs, a small, heartbroken smile stretching his lips.

Bucky chuckles quietly, then takes a deep breath. He presses one last kiss to Steve’s cheek and takes a step back, his heart breaking into a million pieces. The brunet turns around, and takes his duffel that’s still on the ground. He puts all his knives and guns on him and gives Steve one last look. The man looks at Bucky with glassy eyes, his mouth twisted and shoulders slumped.

Bucky bites down on his lip, the overwhelming urge to run to Steve and fall into his arm running through his body. He lets the Soldier take over his actions, turning around and going to the warehouse’s door.

“Hey, Buck?” Steve says, swallowing down. “You know we could get married now?”

Bucky lets out a small laugh, a weird feeling in his stomach. “You proposing to me, Rogers?”

Steve shrugs. “Would you want that?”

“When you’re ready, Stevie, ask me again. You already know my answer.”

“I do,” Steve breathes so quietly Bucky barely picks it up.

Bucky gives Steve one last smile, a sad yet hopeful one, nodding his head. “Yeah.”

With that, Bucky puts his hand on the doors and leaves.

~

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
~ e.e. cummings