Afraid
“He was on his way to the top. And then…” Sam shrugs. “The accident.”
Y/N watches the man lay into the punching bag through the hazy yellow afternoon light shining in the small gym from cracked, old windows. “Is he medically cleared to be doing that?” The man punches slower, more carefully with his left fist and winces harder, grits his teeth tighter.
Sam shrugs again. “Don’t know. He’s not my problem.” He turns to her and takes her by the shoulders. “One thing you have to know before you start this job. Their problems are not your problems.” Sam looks her in the eyes, “You’re dad never figured that out. You’ve got to.”
“I know him, don’t I Sam?”
He looks away, releases her shoulders. “Yeah, used to.”
Her chest tightens and she suddenly doesn’t want to be in her dead father’s gym anymore. She had thought that spending time there would help, that running the boxer’s gym would bring her closer to the man she lost not so long ago. After everything that happened she thought maybe it would help bring her memories back, that it would give her a sense of normalcy. Everything is still just confusing.
A shard of memory slices into her mind then. A guy, maybe fifteen, holding his hand out to her as a laugh passed his lips. He has short dark hair and bright blue eyes and she thinks, even in memory, that he’s beautiful.
A harsh breath leaves her lungs as she presses a hand to her chest. “What’s his name?”
Sam snorts. “Bucky.” He’s walking away, shaking his head, “What a fucking name.”
“Sam wait.” She rushes forward and wraps her fingers around his bicep. “Does he know?”
“That you lost your memory? Yeah.”
Then she’s alone. It’s past closing. She had fetched Sam from his office because she wasn’t sure what to do about the lone man still beating the shit out of the sandbag.
She creeps closer to him, watches the muscles in his back twist and ripple through the material of his shirt. Something about that seems familiar, the movement of muscle. It’s so familiar she can almost feel his skin beneath her fingertips. “Bucky?” She calls, feeling a little ridiculous. Y/N wraps her arms around her torso and puts a small smile on her face as he turns.
Sweat drips down his forehead as he observes her carefully. “Yeah?” Something in his voice is hopeful and it only fills her with dread. There’s a softness there that doesn’t belong. Her teeth clench as a loud booming voice echoes in her ears and then ricochets away, so quick she can’t identify the speaker.
“Well we’re closing.” Her voice is hard and quick and it makes him frown. “And-,”
“I’m waiting for Steve. I’ll be out of your hair in no time.” He sounds sad, broken. His left arm is scarred, angry red lines twisting up and down what was once smooth pale flesh.
Her heart is pounding against her ribs and she doesn’t know why, why she’s so nervous. He stays facing her, looking rather awkward. She glances at his hands. “You should really wrap them when you don’t use gloves.”
He smiles then, bright and blinding, white teeth glinting. “You always have been too concerned with my wellbeing.”
Y/N’s heart stalls in her chest. Another half memory floods her mind. Someone had a bloody nose. Doll, I won’t let anyone talk about you like that. I-
“Doll?” Bucky has come closer. Concern is etched onto his face.
She takes a terrified step back. The way he’s looking at her makes her feel strange, like she can’t breathe, like he wants something from her. “Don’t call me that.”
His face falls and he takes a shaky breath. “Sorry.” Bucky is wringing his hands now, “I’m sorry. I know you don’t remember.”
Something inside her lurches again. She doesn’t want him to be sad, can’t stand the thought of this person suffering. “I-,” Her eyes go to his hands again. “Let me help you.”
“Okay,” he says softly. “Alright.”
She turns on her heel and walks briskly away, wondering who this person was, who he is to her. Before the accident-
The noise inside her head gets loud again. She can feel her hand tapping against the side of her leg. But she feels it as if from a distance, like its someone else’s nervous hand against her thigh. Just like all her memories feel like they belong to someone else.
She leads him to her father’s old office. Bucky sits in a chair against the wall as she walks around the desk and roots around in one of the drawers for a first aid kit. When she finds it she moves the other chair in front of his and holds out a hand. Gently he lies his in hers. “Thank you, Y/N.”
“What happened to your arm?” She traces one finger against a raised, red line.
His voice is surprised when he asks, “Sam didn’t tell you?”
She looks up from his bruised and bloody knuckles. “I-I don’t know, I don’t remember much. Maybe-,”
He shakes his head. “It’s okay.” Her fingers are gentle against his skin, warm and soft, unlike the roughness of his own. “It’s okay, Y/N.”
“Sam tells me things sometimes but I forget. I forget a lot. Now.”
“Do you remember me at all?”
Silence. She doesn’t want to say no. Clearly he’s supposed to mean something to her or her mouth wouldn’t be this dry, her hands would shake like this, her heart wouldn’t be pounding and her head throbbing.
It occurs to her suddenly that she might have been afraid of him before. Maybe he had hurt her in some way and that’s why she feels so anxious around him. She jolts out of her seat, doesn’t want to be in the same room as him anymore. “Y/N?” He sounds concerned. “Hey, I didn’t mean to-,”
“No,” she stumbles backward. “No. I think it’s best if you wait out by the front doors. Um-,”
He holds up his hands, wincing when his shoulder aches. “Please, babydoll, I-,”
Y/N shakes her head. “Please go.”
“Please,” he whispers. “Y/N, please, I’ve loved you since we were kids. It’s killing me. This is killing me. Sam said it was best to stay away at first and I agreed but-,”
She can’t stop tapping her fingers against her thigh. “Go. Go, please. I don’t remember you. I’m sorry but I don’t know you.” Tears are building at the backs of her eyes, her heart is pounding, lungs burning. She feels like she’s going to scream, can feel it building in the back of her throat.
An image flashes in her brain. Someone above her, a burning between her legs. His eyes are as bright as the stars behind his head. Am I hurting you? He stills. Tell me when I can move, sweetheart. The burning goes away. You can move. There’s a bruise on his cheek. She touches it softly. His hair is short. I’m sorry-
She opens her mouth to scream when-
“Buck?”
The voice sounds familiar. Sam appears in the doorway, takes in Y/N’s terrified body language and Bucky’s apologetic hands as he stares at her with desperation in his eyes. “Damnit Bucky,” he says as he comes into the room. A man with blond hair enters the room behind him. He sighs too as Sam wraps an arm around Y/N’s shoulders.
Bucky stiffens and glares at Sam as he lowers his bandaged hands. The blond man is shaking his head and saying something to Bucky who doesn’t look at him.
He tries one more time, eyes pleading, “Y/N, please-,”
“No,” It’s the blond man who speaks. “No, Buck, you lost that right. C’mon let’s go-,”
“Steve-,” Sam starts, hugging Y/N a little closer. “It’s not-,”
Steve shakes his head. “C’mon Bucky. I told you to stop coming here. I told you not to come around Y/N.” He looks at Sam. “He doesn’t get the right to plead with her like this after everything that happened.”
Bucky stands up suddenly, trembling with anger. “How can you say that? You won’t even let me near her. No one has explained what happened. I just-,”
She watches as his mouth trembles and then he bites his lip until blood appears. He meets her eyes. “Just please know I love you and that I’m sorry. It’s not important if you love me. It’s important that you know I love you. And that I’m sorry and that I’ll always be here for you.”
He yanks out of Steve’s grasp. The front door slams a few seconds later, the glass rattling in the frame ominously.