Don't leave me, you idiot.
Things finally seemed to be looking better, like Bucky finally had someone to rely on. Like he wasn't alone. But just because people talk, doesn't mean it goes away. Steve was so nice, Sarah was patient. Kind though they were, it didn't fix his assortment of maladies. Didn't make it go away. One particularly stormy night, Bucky didn't sleep in his bed like he'd become accustomed to doing. He just sat on the mat he loved so much, and stared with teary eyes at the lighting in the clouds. Bucky sniffed and rubbed his eyes. His mom would always come into the room during storms and rub his back, sing him a lullaby. Storms always made him feel uneasy, he never knew why. It always felt as if something was stirring in him, In the depths of his soul, and he hated it. But there was no song, nor comfort to be had here. Steve and Sarah were asleep, or dead, maybe. It was too silent. Bucky swallowed thickly, turning from the window and taking a deep breath. He knew this was wrong. But he was so tired. The weight of the world seemed to favour his shoulders, crushing him beneath it. Everything felt like he was just following the motions of what's expected of him.
He wasn't living. He was surviving. Bucky, for the first time in his life, felt like he knew what he had to do. He stumbled over to the case his mother had packed and sent him with before she died, and pulled out the decorative knife she gave him. It was small, beautiful, but it would do its job. Bucky swallowed thickly and took the blade to his wrist, thinking the quickest way would probably be to cut the vein. He closed his eyes, begging for forgiveness as he took the blade to his wrist. Small droplets of blood soon became flowing rivers and Bucky began to sob. He sat on the floor and watched in morbid curiosity as blood, red as roses, flowed onto the floor. He felt himself going fuzzy. His extremities lost feeling, his body felt light. He didn't register the sharp light of the lamps in his room being turned on, or Steve yelling for his ma, or the cloth being pressed upon the wound. He just stared into the bright blue that seemed so swallow his vision. In them he saw oceans, and light, waves upon sandy shores. Memories of a life better lived. Soon, though, the ringing in his ears faded and he could once again hear clearly
"..ucky! Stay with me! Dammit James Buchanan don't you dare give up on me! Please Bucky, stay with me," Tears were the next thing he registered. Then his vision swam into focus, and he noticed it was Steve's eyes he'd been staring into. Tears were streaming down his best friend's face. Floaty and light-headed, Bucky hummed his acknowledgement and Steve sobbed in relief. Sarah came into view, holding another damp cloth. As his limbs gained feeling again, he felt pressure on his left arm, and turned his head to look.
Wrapped around where the cut was, was damp, bloodied cloth. Strips of it. Steve began to speak to him, cradling his broken body in his frail arms, Bucky's head on his chest, "Bucky, I can't lose you, c'mon," His voice was soft, yet cracked under the weight of his sorrow, and Bucky's eyelids suddenly felt heavy, "Hey, stay awake pal. I got you, I got you. Ma, get some water," He looked away from Bucky and to his mother for a moment before returning his gaze. As Bucky started to realise the gravity of what he had done, he began to cry again, "Bucky, pal, It's okay. I'm here, I got you. 'Til the end of the line, 'member? I ain't ever gonna leave your stupid ass," He laughed tearfully. Bucky smiled weakly, and reached up to wipe a tear from Steve's face as he had done a few nights ago for Bucky.
Steve brought his head up to his shoulder and enveloped Bucky in a hug, and then easing him down to look him in the face, "Don't leave me, you idiot. I... I wouldn't be able to live without you. You're my b-" He stopped, looking up again and nodding. Then, one arm let go of him and Bucky vaguely felt something cold at his lips. Upon looking down, it was a glass. Filled with ice water. Bucky smiled and accepted the drink, allowing Steve to carefully direct the flow of the liquid into his mouth.
A few minutes later, and Bucky had come completely back from his floaty feeling. He sat up, aided by Steve of course, and smiled sadly at the blond with the heart of gold, "I'm sorry Stevie," he croaked, his voice rough by the lack of use over the last few weeks, "I-I'm so sorry, I never meant to-" Steve cut him off this time, with a sharp smack upside the head. Just like his mother used to when he was acting up. Steve had an almost angry look on his face, and Bucky's gaze dropped to the floor
"Don't you dare apologise," Bucky looked up quickly, confused and shocked
"What?" His voice trembled, confused and sorrowful
"Don't you ever apologise for feeling, Buck. Don't get me wrong, I'm not sayin' that this is okay, what you did, but it's nothing to apologise for. If anything I should be apologising, for not seeing it sooner. But you listen to me now James Buchanan Barnes, you try this again and I'll pull you outta the afterlife myself an' tear you a new one," Bucky laughed and Steve smiled, "Your story isn't finished just yet. There's still so much to do, so much to see, and I'll be damned if I let you die 'fore all that comes."
And for once, Bucky truly felt like someone cared