Colorless ambitions of another day create a vast expanse of endless shadows, and he has no idea where his life is headed. Particularly in the mystery of hopelessness he might find some sentiment of purpose, but it’s got too great of a hold to let him explore that part of the unknown world. His loneliness is like the second hand on his watch; distracting and endlessly moving in circles.
Bucky had never really intended to become like this in retrospect. It’s not like anyone ever chooses to sit in the solidarity of mind-crippling monotony. And he can’t decide if he cares enough to change his current circumstances. Probably not, seeing as the glass of vodka he poured Thursday night is still sitting on the carpet. Not that it really matters. He can’t actually get drunk, anyway.
So, he sits on the edge of an old mattress and stares at the wall of his measly apartment in Bucharest. Sounds of life in the form of car engines and voices echo through a small window, reminding him of how secluded he really is from the rest of the world. Again, he remembers that he is not meant to freely roam the land of the living. Bucky is where he’s meant to be; where he won’t be able to hurt anyone.
His eyes shift for the first time in what feels like centuries to a notebook on the ground just a few feet away from where he sits. The page it’s flipped to is full of scribbled notes; memories that Bucky has been working on piecing together in order to ensure that he can hold onto some sort of sanity.
And Bucky notices that in the particular memories on that open page, one name is repeated over and over again. Steve.
More than anything else, he remembers Steve. More than the assassinations. More than the torture. More than the experimentation. He remembers Steve more than all of the terrible things that Hydra put him through, and that knowledge alone is enough to keep him alive. Bucky may not know what his purpose in the world is, but he knows for certain that Steve Rogers is why he wakes up in the morning. And for the moment, that has to be enough.
“Can I talk to you?” Steve asks. The image of his old apartment in Romania fades away, and Bucky finds himself sitting on a much newer mattress in a much brighter room.
Steve’s standing at the doorway of Bucky’s room in the Avengers Compound. His arms and legs are crossed as he leans against the door frame. Bucky blinks a few times, making sure that he’s completely broken from his stupor and nods.
“Yeah, of course,” he replies. He moves closer to one corner of his bed to make room for Steve to sit, and Steve plops down in the new space. There’s silence for a moment as Bucky studies Steve’s face, but he’s unsure what to make of his best friend’s demeanor. Steve seems calm, but Bucky also knows Steve well enough to understand that he’s not just stopping by to make small talk.
Bucky becomes uncomfortable in the silence, and he realizes for the first time since he moved into the compound that there’s barely been a time when it’s just been Steve and Bucky. The compound may be huge, but the Avengers liked to flock together. There was rarely a moment when they weren’t all in the same place. The togetherness is unusual to Bucky, especially because he is not nearly used to having other people to communicate with.
So, more often than not, Bucky finds himself alone in his room when the Avengers aren’t out completing a mission.
Steve releases a withheld breath and looks to Bucky. “You don’t talk that much,” Steve says, which is not exactly what Bucky expected him to say. He raises his eyebrows, unsure what point Steve is trying to make.
“Yeah?” He questions, encouraging to Steve to go on.
“Well, I’m concerned about you,” Steve says. Bucky takes in a deep breath. He can’t exactly place why, but he feels uneasy at this statement. “I know that the process of erasing whatever Hydra put in you hasn’t been easy, but I want you to talk to me.”
Bucky appreciates the sentiment, but he has no idea how to talk to anyone anymore. He also doesn’t need Steve to worry about him. He doesn’t need anyone to worry about him.
“Thanks, Steve,” he says. “But I’m fine.” Steve lets out a sarcastic laugh.
“You and I both know that’s a lie,” Steve says. Bucky purses his lips and looks to the ground, no longer wanting to look at the concern on Steve’s face. “Buck, please tell me what’s going on in your head. It’s not exactly a secret that you’re struggling. You flinch when people get too close to you, when you hear certain sounds. Some words trigger you. And just now I stood in the doorway, and you had no idea because your mind was somewhere else, wasn’t it?”
Bucky chews at the inside of his cheek, knowing full well that Steve is right. But he has been silent about the inner workings of his mind for so long that he has no idea how to let those things go.
“I’m sorry,” he says, shrugging. He feels completely at a loss for words, despite the open room for communication that Steve has just created.
“For what?” Steve asks.
“I don’t know,” Bucky says. “I’m afraid, I guess. I’m so afraid, Steve.”
A strong hand is placed on Bucky’s knee, and he looks from the hand to Steve’s face.
“Hey, listen to me,” Steve says. “You never have to apologize for being afraid. Never.”
Bucky doesn’t think that’s true, though. He’s afraid of talking to people. He’s afraid of leaving his room. He’s afraid of disappointing Steve. But that fear just creates more problems for everyone else.
“But if I wasn’t so afraid, then you wouldn’t have to come check up on me like this,” Bucky says. Steve sighs and removes his hand from Bucky’s leg.
“Look, I can’t even pretend to understand what you’ve been through. You have more right than anyone else I know to be afraid,” Steve says. “I’ve been giving you space because I thought that’s what you needed. But now, I’m not so sure leaving you to sort out your thoughts has been such a great idea.”
If Bucky was honest, he would have to agree with Steve. There have been moments when Bucky just couldn’t handle the immersion into reality, moments when he made an escape to his room, that he really wishes Steve would have come to the rescue. He wishes that Steve would have talked him through it. Without Steve, he would be nothing, and he needs Steve to figure this out.
Bucky’s eyes shift once more to the ground, and he says quietly, “Without you, I wouldn’t even be here.”
“What do you mean by that?” Steve asks. Bucky looks to the drawer across his room that contains his notebooks, the same notebooks that he used in Bucharest to document his memories.
Around the Avengers, around Steve, Bucky feels like a glass structure that sits on the edge and constantly teeters from a lack of balance. Even the slightest wind could knock him over. He has too many pent up emotions about the things that he’s done, and he’s constantly worried that one day he’ll snap.
And becoming vulnerable is such a foreign concept to Bucky. The words don’t feel right as they escape his mouth, but he lets them go, anway.
“If it weren’t for you, I think I would have killed myself a long time ago,” Bucky says. Steve is silent, so Bucky uses whatever strength he has at the moment to continue. “When I was hiding in Romania, I documented everything that I could remember. I wrote about you a lot. Just the idea of you was enough to keep me going. I remembered your bravery, how much you cared about me, and that was good enough. Every single day hurt, and there are days when I still feel the burden of everything I’ve done crash down on me. Sometimes, I still wonder why I don’t just do it. Why I don’t just let go, but I don’t. If I didn’t have you, if you weren’t alive, then I have no idea what I would do. Just knowing that you’re alive is enough to keep me alive. If you’re here, then I’m here.”
The two best friends look to each other, and Bucky sees a wave of sadness wash over Steve. “Buck, I want you to live for you,” Steve says.
“I don’t know how to,” Bucky says. “I’m still so full of guilt. I don’t know how to live a life while knowing that I’ve destroyed so many others.”
“You saved my life,” Steve says. “You protected me on that train. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here, either.” Bucky shakes his head.
“And yet,” he starts, “as I fell to the ground, only one thing ran through my head. At least it’s not Steve. Even then, I put you in front of everything else.”
“You’ve always been looking out for me, Bucky. Maybe it’s time to let me look after you.”
Everything has been so confusing for Bucky in recent years, but he knows that Steve would do anything for him. And he realizes that maybe it’s time to let Steve in. Maybe he needs to talk about the memories that plague his mind. Maybe it’s time to let himself find the Bucky Barnes that he once was.
“How about we look after each other?” Bucky asks. Steve smiles and claps a hand on his best friend’s back.
“That sounds like a good plan, pal,” Steve says. “But seriously, I want you to talk to me. About anything. We can even get you more help, if you want. I’m willing to do whatever I can to help you.”
Bucky lets a grin tug at the corner of his mouth, knowing that Steve is sincere. “We are sickeningly dependent upon each other. You know that, right?” Steve laughs and nods.
“Yeah, but you’re the most important person in my life,” he says. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love you, Buck.”
For the first time in what feels like forever, Bucky actually smiles. “I love you too, Steve.”