Pain Covered with Skin
You were vaguely aware of someone making their way down the aisle of the bus, too preoccupied with your book. They cleared their throat softly, catching your attention. Your heart kicked up as you met the stranger’s soft blue eyes. He was wearing a military uniform; a dark olive-green suit and a matching hat. He motioned toward the empty seat beside you.
“This seat taken?”
You shook your head.
While he placed his bag in the overhead storage space above the seats, you glanced around the bus. He could have easily found a seat somewhere else. The bus wasn’t anywhere close to crowded.
He sat down and took his hat off before he gave a long content sigh and leaned back. You could feel his eyes on you while you pretended to read your book. From the corner of your eye, you saw him play with his hat.
“Where you headed?” he asked. He tried to sound confident, but there was a nervous edge to his voice.
“New York,” you responded, smiling politely before you looked back at your book.
“Me too,” he said after a while. “You, um, going to school there?”
“No, I found a job.”
“Cool,” he said, nodding. “Where?”
With a small sigh, you closed your book and turned your head to look at him. “In a technology lab.”
He ducked his head and gave you a shy smile. “I’m annoying you, aren’t I?”
You tilted your head to the side, observing him. You found yourself fascinated by the way his dimples deepened when he smiled. There was something boyish and vulnerable about him. He looked nervous and excited at the same time.
“I’m not sure yet,” you replied, smirking.
His head still down, he gave you an impish look. You felt your skin grow hot and shyly looked away.
“Whatcha reading?” he asked, straightening himself up, his confidence boosted by your telltale timid look.
You held up your book. “The Grapes of Wrath.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s fairly recent,” you replied.
“Is it good?”
“It’s amazing so far.”
Looking into his eyes, you almost forgot where you were and what was going on around you. The only thing you knew for sure was that you didn’t want to get off that bus. Luckily, you still had plenty of time.
“Most people call me Sergeant Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.”
You shook his hand and made a funny face at him. “Bucky?”
He laughed. “Short for Buchanan, my middle name. My real name is James, but no one calls me that.”
“Nice to meet you.”
You lost track of time while you and Bucky talked about anything and everything. You laughed as he told you about the time he had pranked his best friend. He was a nice man; sweet, smart and full of life.
You curled your legs under you and listened as he shared more stories about his past. At some point he took your hand and ran his thumb over your knuckles. He never let go of your hand after that.
Six hours later, Bucky grabbed his bag and yours and followed you out of the bus. You thanked him as he handed you your bag.
“Do you really have to go?” you asked with a sigh.
“They’re expecting me at the base.” He placed his hat on his head, his lips quirking into a small smile.
You stepped away from the crowd. “Is it as dangerous as people say?”
“It’s war,” he replied, his eyes fixed on the sidewalk. He mustered up a small smile and raised his gaze to yours. “But I’ll be fine.”
“Good luck, Bucky.”
“You too.” He squeezed your hand one last time and let you go.
You turned and walked away, your book pressed against your chest. You trapped your bottom lip between your teeth, wondering if you’d ever see him again. You turned back around and walked over to him.
A smile slowly spread across his face when he saw you coming toward him. You pulled out a pen from your bag and wrote your address on the first page of your book.
“If you need someone to write,” you said, giving him your book. “Come home safe tell me how it ends.”
“I’ll do that,” he promised.
You started walking backward toward the subway entrance. “You’ll probably forget me as soon as you get to base,” you laughed softly.
“No, no,” he replied, looking at you with an intense look in his eyes as he clutched your book. “I’m stubborn like that.
Life went back to its usual pace. You lived with your childhood best friend, Darcy, who screamed like a lunatic when she saw you. She was living in a studio apartment below the home of her landlady, a renewed astronomer.
At first, you were really nervous about your new job, but your co-worker welcomed you with nice words and sweet smiles. You felt your nervousness slowly beginning to subside.
The days passed quickly, especially since you always had your nose in a book. But your nights were quiet and dark and you hated being alone with your thoughts.
Bucky never wrote to you. You tried to reason with yourself, he was a soldier and didn’t have time to write to a stranger.
Still, you missed your handsome sergeant.
His first letter arrived on a Tuesday. He apologized for not writing sooner and told you that he had started reading The Grapes of Wrath. He loved it so far and wanted a happy ending for the Joads.
You wrote him almost every day. When you received a letter from him, he always thanked you for the many letters, saying that they brightened his days.
His letter from November 20th was one of your favourite.
Dearest Y/n,
Today I received three letters dated as follows, Nov 3rd, Nov 5 and Nov 6th from you. I want to thank you, it’s very nice of you to remember me even though you’re busy with your own life.
I’ve had a quiet day, which is why I’m able to write to you today. Some of the guys are playing cards with the fellow. Yesterday I was invited to eat with them and, believe it or not but, the smell of a home cooked meal almost brought me to tears. Five months is too long… way too long.
I wish I could see a movie once in a while myself. All we do is work and play cards, waiting for our next assignment. Also, I’m sorry to tell you that the Joads didn’t have their happy ending. Maybe we will. We can only hope.
Your Bucky.
It was the first time he signed his letter ‘your Bucky’ instead of ‘Bucky’. Warmth spread through you as you stared at the two simple words at the bottom of the page. You pressed the letter to your chest and squealed.
After that, you addressed his letters as ‘My Bucky’ and he started calling you ‘sweetheart’, ‘darling’ and even ‘doll’. It always made you feel better, special and cared for.
You were developing feelings for a man you met months ago and only saw for six hours. Yet, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
Ten months after your first encounter, you received his last letter. It was stained with dirt, but you understood most of it. Bucky was part of a special unit, he couldn’t say more because the censors were reading his letters, but the mission was dangerous.
Extremely dangerous.
The sentences that were not completely erased were ‘My own darling sweetheart’, ‘I must say goodnight for now and a million kisses, Your Bucky.”
And then he was gone.
Losing him was unbearable. You didn’t know what had happened, but you were determined to find out. You sent letters to wounded soldiers, nurses, officers in hopes of finding him.
Your nights were spent tossing and turning, your dreams darker than what you were used to. It was always the same one; cluster bombs flying everywhere, Sergeant Barnes lying in a ditch, his blue eyes glassy and blood slowly dripping from the corner of his mouth.
Finally, after spending three months worrying about Bucky, you received a letter from one of his ‘pals’ as he used to call them. Private Gabriel Jones was the team’s communications specialist.
He wrote to you, saying that Bucky had been severely injured during one of their missions and had been sent back home. For the past three months, your handsome sergeant had been treated at Mason General Hospital in Long Island.
MGH was a psychiatric hospital; their patients suffered from shell-shock and other combat-related psychological problems. Your heart clenched painfully in your chest at the thought of Bucky.
You wrote him a letter that day and sent it to MGH, hoping that Bucky was strong enough to read it. Jones didn’t go into too much detail in his letter and your imagination was running wild with all the possibilities.
The letter you received five days later broke your heart.
My Y/n,
It pains me to read how much you miss me. All I ever wanted was to be on the same continent as you, but things have changed. I took a hospital ship and got transferred to a debarkation hospital soon after. They say my rehabilitation is going well, but the pain is still present.
I think about you every day. I still have that picture you sent me. It’s stained with my blood now, but I can still see your beautiful face. You are the reason I wake up in the morning, the reason I am still breathing, but believe me when I say that I am no longer the man you chatted with on that bus over a year ago.
It’s not right to bring you into my life. You deserve more than a broken soldier.
Goodbye, my darling girl. Remember me fondly.
YBucky.
Darcy found you lying on the sofa, crying your eyes out. She held you close until your sobs subsided and you told her everything. She remained silent for a moment.
“Your boyfriend’s real stubborn, sweet pea.”
You sniffed. “Stop saying that. He’s not my boyfriend.”
“He sends you more letters than all my lovers combined and he calls you his sweetheart… sweetie, you’re his girl.”
You mulled over her words. You knew exactly how you felt, but after Bucky went missing you focused on other things –like finding him.
Now he had to know. It probably wouldn’t change his mind, but you had to tell him. You wrote your shortest letter; only three words on a blank piece of paper.
I love you.
You checked the mail every day for his reply, but you never received a letter. Your heart sank lower and lower with each passing day.
Until…
You were reading your book when you heard three loud knocks at the door. With an annoyed sigh, you closed the book and placed it on the sofa before you crossed the room and opened the front door.
Bucky, your Bucky, was standing in front of you, a nervous smile on his lips. He looked more tired and troubled, but the look he gave you brought you hope.
Instinctively, you gasped and covered your mouth with your hands. Tears welled up in your eyes. It was so good to see him again after all this time.
“I’m sorry it took me so long to reply,” he said, shifting his feet. “But I wanted to tell you this in person.” He took a deep breath. “I love you, my darlin’.”
You threw yourself at him and wrapped your arms around his neck as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. His arm circled around your waist to draw you close and you heard him take a deep breath, as if he was inhaling your scent.
When you pulled back, you saw that the left sleeve of his jacket hung limp at his side. He noticed your interest and squeezed your waist.
“This is why I’ve been sent back home. I-I fell off a cliff somewhere in Italy. I lost my arm.”
“Oh,” you replied, then raised your head. “I’m sorry this happened to you, but you’re back now. I will take care of you.”
“Why would you want to do this, Y/n? I’m a broken man. I have nightmares, I’m nervous all the time and sometimes my missing arm hurts. The doctors call this phantom pain. I don’t want you to do this because you feel sorry for me. So if you want to take that back and never see me again I underst-”
“Shh,” you said, cupping his face. “If you think I’m going to let you go then you’re crazy, Bucky. I didn’t fell in love with that talkative man who wouldn’t let me read my book. I fell in love with the man who was excited to read my letters, the man who fought for his country, the man you are now.”
He smiled through his tears. “It’s easier to write things down than say them, but if you still want me, I’ll be yours forever.”
“You're mine.” You wiped away his tears with your thumbs and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “You said so yourself.”
He let out a sound that was halfway between a sob and a laugh, and kissed you so hard your teeth collided. Nothing could separate you now. Nothing would ever come between you again.