To Forget

"What do you mean?"

She wants to squirm away from him. Bucky can already feel her pushing against his chest, trying to get away from him. He grips her tighter, "Please let me explain."

"Then start explaining!" Y/N's voice has already risen to a hysterical level. "Go on! Explain it to me!"

"Okay," he strokes her hair and doesn't let go. "C'mon baby, stop fighting me huh? Let me explain."

Y/N stops wriggling in his arms and gives an exhausted sigh, choosing instead to lie still and enjoy the warmth his body provided. Familiarity floods her again. "Just tell me."

He swallows harshly, "I don't want to lie to you, babydoll."

"Then don't." Her voice is harsh. 

And so he does one of the hardest things he’s ever done and let’s go of her. He sits back against her headboard and swallows hard. “It’s true that it’s all my fault.” She sits up and scoots to the end of the bed, crossing her legs as she faces him. “And if you think you love me then you should know the truth.”

“Okay,” her voice is soft, carefully controlled. “So you were hurting me.”

“No! God, no, never.”

Should he tell her? What if she never remembered? What if she pushed him away for good? He is, after all, the only one that knew the full story. And Sam and Steve seemed to think he’s lying about everything.

“Y/N…”

She shakes her head and starts to get up. “If you’re just going to make shit up-,”

“I’m not. Y/N, I’m not.” He starts to plead, jaw clenching. “I'm going to tell you the truth.”

“Tell me!” She steps forward, finger pointed accusingly at him. “Right now! Stop being confusing.” Her fingers fly to her head, clutching desperately as her eyes flutter closed. “Make it make sense,” she whispers, sounding almost in pain.

He stands cautiously. “Y/N…babydoll are you okay?”

Y/N lurches forward suddenly and grips his shirt. Tear-filled eyes meet his, “Please?”

“Okay.” Bucky takes her hand and guides her back to the bed. “But I need you to listen okay? I need you to hear me.”

She nods and takes a tissue that he offers her.

~

“Bucky?”

He could roll his eyes at the way her voice sounds small and vulnerable. Sweat drips down his sides and he pretends not to hear her as he continues hitting the punching bag. He really doesn’t want to deal with her at the moment. A hot fire burns in his stomach when he thinks about her, about him, about them.

“Buck…please.” Don’t turn, don’t look, she’ll go away, run back to-

“Bucky!” He voice is panic-stricken suddenly. “God, please, look at me! I need you! I need my best friend. I know you hate me right now but I need your help. Please.”

He stops punching, catching the swaying bag in his hands, and turns very slowly. Because he might be mad but he’ll never hate her, and she has to know that. But, when he turns any anger he might have felt toward her flies out of his head. “Y/N?”

In a second he’s in front of her, a hand on either side of her face, “Who did this to you?” She's bruised black and blue, her face and arms, some bruises trailing into the collar of her shirt.

“You know who.” Her voice cracks on the last word. 

“I’ll kill him. I’ll fucking kill him! Where is he? Don’t you dare protect him Y/N-,”

She shakes her head, “I’m not protecting him. I’m protecting you.”

“How-?”

Y/N shakes her head and Bucky pulls her into a tight hug, loosening his grip when she winces. “It’s a setup. You’re getting in the way of his career. I’m supposed to walk in here and tell you it was someone else. And their location. But really it will be Brock and a few others waiting for you.” She puts a hand on his face. “I couldn’t let that happen to you.”

He stares at her and then takes her hand away from his face, walking her toward the gym's bathroom. “Is this the first time it's happened?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N.”

“I’m not.” She hugs him suddenly. “I couldn’t let that happen to you no matter much you hated me.”

Bucky keeps a tight grip on her, “I don’t hate you.”

“Bucky,” she whispers into her shoulder, wiping her tears onto his shirt, “I love you. I love you. More than I’m supposed to as your best friend.”

He pulls back, “I love you too.”

Her bottom lip trembles as she glances away, “Don’t do this right now, don't fuck with me like that, I can’t handle it-,” His mouth lands on hers and although it’s tearful and painful it’s the best kiss of his life. In that moment he hopes to never have to kiss another person ever again.

“I love you. I mean that. And no one is ever going to hurt you again. I promise.” He says, his forehead resting against hers.

~

“So?” She challenges. “I already knew he was hurting me.” But he can tell she’s shaken, that something is itching at her brain now.

“So, we were fighting not only about Brock, but about you. The week before that happened…you finally caved and told Paul that my parents were abusing me. And I resented you for breaking our promise even though I wasn’t being hurt anymore.” She opens her mouth but he keeps going. “And later that night when your dad found out that someone had been hitting you…I was the first person everyone looked at. I…had an anger streak a mile wide and…everyone thought...what with the circle of domestic violence and all that.”

He pauses and swallows uncomfortably, “I had been abused and so now I was the abuser.” He looks up to meet her eyes, “It still cuts me to the very core to think anyone could think I would ever hurt you.”

For a moment Y/N doesn’t say anything. Then quietly, still staring at the floor, “Go on then.”

His heart thuds painfully, and no reassurance comes that she knows he would never do such a thing.

~

His mouth is hot on Y/N’s, pressing closer and closer, until his hands starts to wander beneath her shirt.

A loud gasp escapes her and she pushes his hands away. “Stop.”

Bucky sits back and sighs heavily. “Did I do something wrong?”

Something like a fearful tremble runs up her back. “No,” She whispers, wrapping her arms around her middle. “No, no.”

“Then what is it Y/N?” Bucky asks, attempting to get her to look him in the eyes. “Because we went from having sex a couple times a day to not at all.” A quiet sadness creeps into his voice. “So what is it? Why do you cringe every time I touch you?”

She won’t look at him. “I just don’t want to.”

“You have to talk to me! If I did something-,”

“I just don’t want you!” She screams, whipping viciously around to glare at him. “I don’t want you touching me, or looking at me.”

He grits his teeth, his arm is throbbing painfully, “Is it because of my arm?”

“What?”

“You heard me, Y/N!” His fists clench open and closed, disbelieving that Y/N could be that shallow, especially toward him. “Is it because you can’t stand to look at me because of what your old boyfriend did to me?”

She doesn’t seem angry, only shakes her head and turns away. “If you could think something like that about me then you don’t know me at all.”

His heart drops into his stomach because she only sounds disappointed and hurt.

~

Y/N doesn’t say anything for a moment and Bucky lets her process, hopes that something will come back, that she’ll remember and he won’t have to tell the whole horrible thing.

“What happened to your arm?” She asks softly, reaching out for his hand. Bucky lets her take his hand, cradle it within her own and trace her fingers up the scarred flesh of his arm. “Or was I really that shallow?”

“I thought you deserved better than a broken man. Not just because of my arm.” He swallows dryly and meets her eyes. “It wasn’t because of my arm.” It takes him a few moments to build his confidence up before he can speak. “I, uh, was burned. After a match. It was Rumlow…we could just never prove it. I was out of the game for a while after that and when I was finally healed…you wouldn’t let me touch you and I assumed…”

He blinks hard and changes tactics, “It was during my time in the hospital that he got to you. When we found out that with therapy and training, I could be as good as I was before. I could still rise to the top. And so he got to you. You were what he really wanted after all. He was sabotaging matches after that and hitting you to keep you quiet about it. He said if you didn’t say anything…about the matches, about the bruises, then I’d be safe, that he wouldn’t do something worse. And so you did as he said because he had already proven he could and would do something worse.”

His breathing is starting to become a little ragged. “And in all my infinite selfishness I thought you didn’t want me to touch you because I was a little scarred.” He meets her eyes again, “But really you were hiding yourself from me so I wouldn’t know someone was hurting you. You were protecting me, letting someone hurt you so I wouldn’t be hurt.”

She squeezes his hand.

A bitter laugh breaks past his lips, “And then…then I thought you were cheating on me.”

“Cheating on you?” She clutches his hand harder, painfully tight. “Cheating on you?”

He nods and bites his lip, but Y/N moves closer to him, settles herself by his side and encourages him to drape his arm over her shoulders. “How could you think that?” Y/N doesn't think she could ever cheat on anyone, especially not someone who had been nothing but kind to her. 

“It was the only thing that made sense to me.” He presses his nose to her hair. “I convinced myself of it and the longer it went on…the meaner I got, the more we fought. I wouldn’t break it off but I was trying to get you to admit it.” A deep wave of regret hits him. He had been so caught up in his own sticky web of feelings that he had completely missed that someone had been hurting the most important person in his life.

Y/N’s face is nestled into his neck. “Finish the story,” she murmurs, voice trembling.

~

“Y/N?” Bucky calls out as soon as he enters their apartment. “Doll? Where are you?”

He walks through their vacant apartment to their bedroom to find her at the foot of their bed, standing stalk still, a suitcase open before her. “Y/N?” Bucky walks around to face her, “Where are you going?”

Blood drips from a crack in her lip. They’re bitten raw, her skin is lifeless, and her eyes are glassed over. “I’m moving back into my dad’s. It’s empty and I would have no rent.”

His voice goes hard, “Why?”

“Because I can’t do this anymore.” A sob rips from her throat.

It’s what he’s been waiting for, for weeks and weeks, since he was released from the hospital. He opens his mouth to say something cutting when she whispers, “All we do is fight and scream at each other. And I’m so tired and-,”

“You’ve been cheating on me.”

She stops and lifts her head to meet his eyes fully, “What?” They’re red rimmed now and confused.

“That’s it isn’t it?” He lifts his arms outwards and gives a nonchalant shrug. “It’s why you won’t let me anywhere near you. Not even a hug. We haven’t kissed in two weeks. I can’t even hold your hand without you cringing away from me.” He drops his arms back to his sides. 

Shock is written across her face. “I’m not…I’m-,”

He’s already had a bad day, pissed because he wasn’t being given anymore matches. He’s lost too much weight, lost focus, become volatile and unpredictable in the ring. And now…Y/N is leaving him. “You are. It’s the only goddamn thing that makes sense. God, you’ve been fucking lying to my face this-,”

He shakes his head and turns away, “Whatever, fucking leave then.”

“Bucky,” she reaches out to him. “I’m not. I swear I’m not…I just, I don’t think we’re meant to be together. Not when we make each other miserable.”

His voice breaks when he turns back and steps closer, “Then why do you act like you can’t stand me? Don’t lie to me Y/N.” His voice is so broken that it physically pains her to hear.

Something behind her eyes breaks and she whispers, “I have something to tell you, baby.” His breath catches. He never thought he would hear her say it, say that’s she cheating on him, hates him, can’t stand to be around him anymore. It had been months and she had never hinted at ever admitting it. She takes the hem of her shirt in her hands and slowly lifts it, his eyes widening as she does. 

And then her shirt is gone and her top half is left in nothing but her bra. Her skin is marred with bruises and scratches and cuts, some scarred over, some only days old. His heart seizes because this can't be happening again. “This is why I didn’t let you touch me. You’d know.” She lets out a small cry and wraps her arms around her torso. “You have no idea how much I wanted to tell you. To let you comfort me and take care of me and love me but I am so afraid and I told myself I could handle it. Make it go away myself and you would never be the wiser. But I’ve hurt you so badly instead.”

“You’re worried about me being hurt?” He asks in disbelief. Bucky’s eyes are wide with horror, before he recovers and growls out, “Who?”

Her bottom lip trembles before she bites it and whispers, “Rumlow.”

“Why?” He has his arms around her in seconds, and for the first time in months she doesn’t pull away. In fact she falls into his embrace, presses her nose to his collarbone, and lets out a desperately relieved breath. “Why wouldn’t you tell me? I could have-,”

“Because he said he’d hurt you again. Permanently this time.”

“My matches-,”

“Yes. He was…rigging them.”

Bucky grips her tighter, “He’s here isn’t he?”

“Outside.” Her voice is low and terrified.

Thinly veiled anger sits low in his eyes when he pulls away to meet her gaze. “Let’s go.”

“What?” She whispers.

“You think I’m just going to leave you here? Let you do this? God, I’m a fucking idiot. How could I have not known?”

Y/N’s hands go to either side of his face. “I kept it well hidden to keep you safe. You’d have never known if I didn’t tell you. What he did to your arm…I’m afraid he’ll try to kill you.”

Slowly he leans forward to capture her lips with his. Kissing her slowly and with a gentle passion. “Not going to happen. We need to go. But I’m going to have to put on a show. We need him to think-,”

“I know. But promise me you won't tell anyone what's happening. No matter what happens. People can't know. They'll never look at me the same way.”

And stupidly he makes that promise. 

Out in the street he jerks her roughly over to his motorcycle. It’s starting to rain as he offers her a helmet but she shakes her head as his thumb slides over her arm, soothing where he had been gripping her bicep, out of sight of the man in the car across the street.

“I don’t love you. I never have. I wish you would stay away from me.” He screams at her, one of the windows of an apartment opening above him at the commotion. “C’mon, Y/N,” he says roughly, noting the hurt in her eyes, the wobble of her bottom lip, and the small, caved in look of her shoulders.

Because it sounded like he meant it and after the last few months they weren’t hard words to believe. She gets on the bike, aware that he needs to be somewhere safe just as much as she needs to be. So they could both feel as though they had control over the situation. 

He starts the engine and peels away from the curb and tells himself that she knows he didn’t mean it, that it only sounded true because he needed it to, because he needed Rumlow to hear and believe it. But her grip is light on his waist, the road is wet, and he realizes halfway there that they’re being followed.

And Bucky only understands he’s underestimated Rumlow when he runs them off the road.