Midnight, you come and pick me up, no headlights
I`m in town. Are you free?
You know you are fucked when your ex texts you at night and you reply immediately. Though the two of you broke up on good terms, you didn´t really have any contact since you broke it off almost a year ago. Why would he want to meet you now?
Whatever the reason may be, you wanted to see him again. It tore you apart to be away from him for so long, it always had. It was the reason you broke up after all, his frequent missions taking a toll on you. The sound of your doorbell ringed through your ears half an hour after you replied to his text, you hadn´t even noticed his car pass your window. Anxiety shot through your body, your palms sweating, your heart hammering in your chest, your breathing about to get ragged.
You calmed yourself down a little bit using the breathing techniques Bucky used when he had a panic attack. With sweaty hands you opened the door to reveal your ex that looked better than ever.
Long drive, could end in burning flames or paradise
You didn´t even ask him where he was taking you, as long as he was with you and you were with him it didn´t matter. Seeing him tore you apart – you loved him so much it hurt, you always had but he wasn´t yours, not anymore. All you ever wanted to do was hold him close, protect him and be protected. You longed for the late night conversations in a shared bed and breakfast in his clothes the next morning.
Did he long for that just like you did? Was that why he texted you? Or did something happen? Did he get engaged? Was he here to tell you that? Were you his Bridget Jones and he your Daniel Cleaver?
Fade into view, oh,
It's been a while since I have even heard from you
“What were you doing in town?” You pried your eyes away from your fidgeting fingers to look at the man next to you, trying to break the uncomfortable silence that filled his car.
“Nothin´ important. Was just getting some stuff done for the team.” He glanced at you though he didn´t smile like he used to do. Gripping the wheel a little tighter he continued to drive the two of you through the nearly empty streets of the city. “Did you hear of Clint and Natasha´s drink off last week?” he asked, shifting a bit in his seat.
“Yeah, Sam told me,” you chuckled out. “Wish I would´ve seen him though.”
“Should´ve been there. Haven´t for a while,” Bucky mumbled from the driver´s seat.
“Yeah.” You fumbled with your hair. “Would´ve been nice.”
And I should just tell you to leave 'cause I
Know exactly where it leads but I
Watch it go round and round each time
The two of you ended up in the parking lot of a random fast food restaurant, you trying to tell him exactly where he had ketchup on his face while munching your own food. You didn´t know how it happened, maybe it was the late hours or maybe it was the food, but both of you loosened up suddenly.
“Y/N, where is it? I can´t understand you when you´re eating and laughing and talking all at the same time!” His laughter rang trough the car, mixing with your own. The chilly air that came in through the open window brushed through his hair as he wiped off the last bit of sauce off his face with the purest smile you´ve ever seen. He looked like a little boy that just won his first football game. You couldn´t help but admire him every moment you spent with him. You wondered if he had noticed. Did he admire you?
Ridiculous. It had been a year. He was probably over you, like you should be over him. But you weren´t. You still wanted to touch him like you used to, to kiss him like your life depended on it, to hold him when he had a nightmare. Why would he still want that with you? You hurt him, broke his heart when you left and now you wanted him back.
You hurt him and now you were hurting yourself, sitting next to him and wanting something you could never get back, you never deserved, at least of all now. So what were you doing? Why did you agree to meet him? What was the point of all of this? Dragging him down when he was feeling better?
You got that James Dean daydream look in your eye
And I got that red lip, classic thing that you like
And when we go crashing down, we come back every time
'Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style
You've got that long hair slick back, white t-shirt
And I got that good girl faith and a tight little skirt
And when we go crashing down, we come back every time
'Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style
Even though you knew you shouldn´t and couldn´t get back with him you couldn´t seem to stop admiring him, he looked just as good as he did a year ago, just a little healthier, happier, calmer. Every morning you spent together you got to admire him with his eyes half open, his voice only a husky murmur in your ear. He looked like every dream you had ever had. He still did. Maybe now more than ever.
He glanced over to you as the street lights illuminated the car, casting shadows on his face that didn´t make him any less handsome. “I like your lipstick,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing and faced the road again.
“Thank you,” was the only answer you could muster as you fingers unconsciously traced your lips. He liked your lipstick. So he had looked at your lips. How else would he have noticed? Maybe he was still interested in you! Or maybe he just noticed because he always notice everything, you dumbass, you reminded yourself. Of course. He was and assassin, he couldn´t help but notice everything, all the time. It was like second nature to him. But he didn´t have to tell me, you thought. Anyway, he liked your lips.
Maybe he thought about kissing you. You sure did. Over and over again, ever week, every night, every time another street light slithered over his face. You almost reached out to touch his face that you would love to hold in the crook of your neck where he loved to hide when he had a nightmare. But you only reached out to touch the headrest of his seat, almost feeling like you would burst without feeling his warmth.
So it goes, he can't keep his wild eyes on the road
He turned around, his eyes as soft as they used to be when he found you humming to a song in the kitchen or wearing one of his shirts. He gave you the same look he used to give you when he was in love with you.
“I´ve missed you.” You felt like you weren´t able to control the ways you expressed your feelings for him anymore, or how much of them you showed him. He had let you so close, maybe he wanted to hear those things. Maybe that was what he came here for. Maybe he missed you like you missed him.
You had dreamt of him coming back to you so often, it felt real some nights. But he was far away, as far as you had pushed him. He had been. Now he was here, right next to you, giving you more of his attention than the road.
“I missed you too. Wanted to see you again,” he smiled. His hands moved on the wheel, like he was debating whether or not he should reach out to touch you too.
“It´s good to see you,” you said softly, hoping he would touch you, anywhere. Just to feel some sort of physical contact that would relief you from the tension you had been feeling since he texted you.
“It is.” His voice was barely above a whisper and you felt like you would burst, cry any moment. After you had hurt him he was so soft with you, he had never been anything but. You´re a soft man, Bucky Barnes you would say. And you did now, you didn´t know what else to say.
Would it not have been so dark you would have seen the familiar blush on his face that appeared whenever you had said these words. “You really think that?” His eyes sparkled with hope and joy as he looked at you again. He really was the softest man you had ever met.
Takes me home, lights are off he's taking off his coat
You couldn´t remember how long you had been driving through the city without a real destination. You relished in the fact that you could be with him after wishing for this night. When he pulled up to your home you didn´t even move a muscle to get out of the car. Just sitting there you still looked at him as he turned off the car. “Your hair is messy.” You didn´t even realize how dreamy and in love you sounded until the words left your mouth. Neither did you have the time to try and change the fact that you were acting like a fool in love, the look he gave you was just as lovely as your tone had been. Both of you could be teenagers laying on their bed with the feet in the air while writing in their diary about their high school crush.
“Maybe you have a brush for me,” he said, a little cocky, flirty grin on his face. Now you could feel your face heating up. “I sure do.”
You basically invited him into your home now but still, neither of you moved. You just looked at each other in the dark shadow of the car in your drive away. “Okay,” he finally said and let his hand move over your arm before he stepped out of the car, you following him on wobbly legs.
As you opened the door to your home you wished he would kiss you as soon as the door was closed, like he used to a year ago. Instead, he hung up his jacket instead of letting you take it off. For the millionth time this night you wished you could go back to how it was.
I say "I've heard that you've been out and about with some other girl, some other girl"
“Sam said you and Jenny broke up a few weeks ago?” you asked as you sat down next to where Bucky was looking at your books on the shelf next to the couch. It had hurt you to hear that he had moved on but he deserved it. He deserved to be happy with someone else.
And when they broke up you were angry with yourself because you were happy about it, you had wished for them to break up the second you heard her name for the first time. It somehow had felt like you had a chance again even though you knew it was over with you and him. You still liked the idea of him thinking about you enough to break up with his girlfriend. Only wishful thinking, you had told yourself over and over again. But maybe wishes do become true.
He says "What you've heard is true but I
Can't stop thinking about you" and I
I said "I've been there too a few times"
“Yeah, but it wasn´t really a breakup.” Of course not. Of course he was still with her. Maybe he really was your Daniel Cleaver. “We never really were together.” What? Sam had explicitly told you that Barnes went on a date with this girl from Bruce´s lab. Was smitten because of her last night. He wouldn´t lie to you like that, not when he knew how you felt about him, which he most certainly did.
Noticing your confused look he hurriedly explained: “We met a few times but she was just.. not you.” For the second time in that minute he sent you in shock. Did he really say that or were you just wishing he would have said that?
“You know..” Running a hand through his hair he tried to find the right words. “I just didn´t – couldn´t stop thinking about you.”
'Cause you got that James Dean daydream look in your eye
And I got that red lip, classic thing that you like
Love confessions usually lead to very emotional responses. Once, when you were in kindergarten you had slapped a boy that wanted to kiss you. You once cried because a boy laughed at you after you told him you loved him. There was a wide range of emotions you had experienced after a love confession, be it your own or of someone else.
But never had you felt such relief, such tenderness, such passion as you did in that moment. You couldn´t help yourself, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him down to you.
People want to be kissed like they are air and the other one can´t breathe. You wanted to be kissed like you were the sun and they were the moon, meeting for the first time. This was what it felt like. Loving each other for what felt like infinity but never seeing, never meeting, never touching but now – now your hearts could finally beat as one.
And when we go crashing down, we come back every time
'Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style