Oh, Mother
James Buchanan Barnes, the son of the last Great Witch, had never shown any signs of sharing the gift his mother had. Winifred was the best mother she could've been under the circumstances. Bucky always did his best to help his mother, and keep her secret. He would never have thought that they would take her away from him. Not ever. As the years went on, Bucky grew to understand how important Magic is and how little there is left of their kind.
The more he learned, the more he hated himself for not being good enough to inherit it. Though his mother tried her best to tell him otherwise, Bucky always thought himself worthless for not having magic. He tried and tried as a child to produce something, but he just didn't have it in him. Or so he thought. When his mother was found out, Bucky was suddenly living alone in a village full of pitiful eyes and whispered empathy. He couldn't take it. He turned to the only person he trusted, Steve Rogers. He was 18 when he moved in with Steve and his mom. He was never quite the same after that.
For the first few weeks, he was closed off. Guarded in a way he had never been before. He thought that, maybe, by pushing Steve away he would be safe. No hearts to break if no one cares, right? No one to disappoint if there's no one there, Bucky told himself. Deep down, he knew it wasn't true, but he just couldn't bring himself to think he was anything other than dangerous. A failure. He promised himself he wouldn't cause anyone else's death. He blamed himself for his mother, of course he did. If Bucky had just been good enough for magic, he could've protected her. He could have helped. But, as fate would have it, he was not enough. He was just pathetic little James-
His train of thought was cut off by three light knocks on his bedroom door. Furrowing his brow, he uncrossed his legs and stood up from the navy blue meditation mat on his floor. Upon opening the old birch wood door, he saw Steve. His best friend. The one who would never give up on him. A sigh escaped his lips and sliced through the icy November air between them, and his features took on an expression of indifference as Steve frowned at him. The blond shifted his weight and looked Bucky in the eyes, determination alight in his baby blues.
"Hey Buck, Ma wanted to let you know that dinner's ready. She said you didn't eat last night so-" Bucky raised a hand, effectively silencing the blond. Shaking his head, he began to close the door when there was a hard shove from the other side and Bucky, not expecting there to be any retaliation, stumbled backwards. Steve entered his room and looked around quickly, noticing how the bed was undisturbed and neat. Like Bucky had never even touched it. The next thing he noticed was the meditation mat Winifred gave him before she was killed. That was the only thing in the entire room that looked remotely used. The wardrobe was bare, and the nightstand was dusty. The light hadn't been touched, and neither had the case Bucky's clothes resided in.
Steve sighed and shook his head, looking upset as he began to speak
"James Buchanan Barnes, I swear to everything holy if you try to shut me out one more time-" He cut himself off, taking a deep breath and his entire body sagged, "Bucky, you haven't slept since you came here, barely eaten a thing and I know for a fact nothing in this room has been touched. You can't just- Meditation, great as it is Bucky, won't make your problems disappear. Talk to me, please. You need to- You can't just- Dammit Buck I just want to help you. Let me in. I'm here, pal, 'til the end of the line," And it was that last sentence that broke his resolve.
His walls crumbled, kicking up clouds of dust that filled Bucky's lungs and made it hard to breathe. A sob echoed through the dark silence in the room, and Bucky belatedly realised it was his. Steve looked concerned as Bucky sunk down to his mat and sobbed into his hands, hurrying to join him. Bucky just cried out, a heart-shattering desperate sound. Steve felt himself move before he even knew what was happening. Though he was smaller than Bucky, he wrapped his arms around him and whispered reassurance and comfort to him. Bucky felt weak. Felt stupid, and so he pulled away again. His eyes glazed, his expression neutral again. Steve shook his head and wiped away the tears that continued to fall. Bucky turned his head from Steve's paint-stained fingers and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths.
"Bucky you haven't spoken a word to me or ma in the whole time you've been here, you're not okay. You need a friend, and that's why I'll keep pushing. I won't ever let you walk away, Buck. Not ever, got that?" Bucky stared into Steve's intense gaze before biting his lip before opening his mouth to speak. But when he saw the hopeful look in Steve's eyes, he couldn't bring himself to speak; to tell him that he wasn't worth a damn, and Steve should just walk away. He couldn't do it. So, he closed his mouth again, and Steve practically deflated, "Right, then. More silence it is," He sighed, "C'mon Buck. You haven't left this dusty room in over two weeks. Just, for once, come into the dining room. Eat. Sit with us. You don't gotta say nothin', but at least ease my ma's mind by being there. We're both worried about you, y'know? We care, okay? I care. Just letting you know.. You're not alone."
Then, Bucky's right side was cold again, and the light faded as the old birch wood door creaked closed. Once again, the boy was alone. Steve's words ricocheted through his mind like a bullet.
'til the end of the line
I won't ever let you walk away
I care
You're not alone
And, for the first time in a long few weeks, Bucky left his room.