mr. bonky bean

There was a loud shattering sound as a figure burst through the window behind Rumlow and tackled him to the ground. You heard Becca scream. 

It happened so fast you barely registered what happened until a few seconds later when you saw a man restraining Brock’s arms behind his back on the floor, with the window just behind where Rumlow had been standing moments earlier, broken beyond repair.

“Steve?” you heard Bucky question. The blonde man is breathing heavily but there’s a mischievous twinkle in his eye when he looks up at his best friend.

“I leave you alone for five seconds and this happens? I thought I was the one who was trouble.” 

The brunette looks upon the scene before him disbelievingly, but can’t help laughing. Whether that be from shock or relief, not even Bucky seemed to know. 

From outside the busted window, you saw familiar red and blue lights as well as the infamous siren of police cars. Bucky seemed to snap out of his trance as he rushed to help his sister.

“Hey, hey,” he said softly. “You’re gonna be alright, cmon B, cmon, stay with me.” He scooped Becca’s head into his lap. The blood from her neck stained his pants but he didn’t seem to notice. 

She looked up at him. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, but she seemed to know it was Bucky. She lifted her hand weakly onto Bucky’s. She looked as if she were about to say something but unconsciousness caught up to her first. Her eyelids fluttered as they closed.

“No,” Bucky whispered. “No! Someone get help!” As if on cue, the front door was slammed down. The house filled with cops and a stretcher was rolled in. Everything became a bit of a blur as Becca was lifted onto the stretcher and carted off in an ambulance. 

Rumlow was put in handcuffs in a quick clicking noise and escorted away by some police officers. Your eyes met Bucky’s for the briefest of moments before he too was led outside for a medical exam, Steve followed soon after. 

You got the hint and followed Steve to the ambulance. There were a couple of moments of silence between you two as he got patched up. You were the one to initiate the conversation first, though slightly hesitant.

“I gotta ask, how’d you know where we were? And for that matter, why are you even here right now? Last I checked you were off in California.” Steve tilted his head slightly.

“Well, Buck’s accident is all over the news, though I suppose it wasn’t an accident?” You nodded in response. He cleared his throat and resumed.

“Well I booked the first plane back after I heard, but I went to both your apartments, as well as the studio, and no one was there. That was a little suspicious but I didn’t really think too much of it. So then I tracked his car to Becca’s place and thought I’d surprise you guys. When I got here I was getting ready to scare you, but then I saw Rumlow attacking Becca through the window, so I called the cops. Apparently, there were a bunch close by looking for a real speedy car anyways, so they took barely any time at all.” The blonde shrugged.

“Did you really have to jump through the window though?” you asked. “There have got to be easier ways of doing that,” Steve smirked, trying to lighten the mood.

“I have a flair for the dramatic.” You both chuckled at that. From across the yard, you saw Bucky sitting on the edge of a car, a towel over his broad shoulders. You excused yourself from Steve and walked over to the brunette.

“...Hey Buck,” you said putting your hand on his shoulder. He put his hand over yours.

“Hey.” You looked down at the ground awkwardly.

“Are you okay?” you tried. Bucky gave you a lopsided smirk that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Yeah, I think I will be. They said Becca’s gonna make it.”

“Good, good…” You shifted uncomfortably, unsure if you should continue. You fiddled with your fingers.

“So…back at the apartment when you were pointing that gun at me, you said you loved me.” You gaged his face for a reaction before going on.

“Was that true? Like romantically or was it family love or just a spur of the moment?” The brunette tapped his foot as he weighed his options. He finally sighed and made eye contact with you.

“It’s true...and I was kinda hoping it could be romantic?” He looked at you hopefully. You diverted your eyes away from him and your mouth parted in thought, trying to process his words. It seemed you took a second too long as Bucky perceived that to mean you weren’t interested.

“O-oh I mean it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, I mean I get it, it’s not a big deal. We can just be friends if you want, whatever works. Sorry, I didn’t mean to put this on you right now, I just- you know what, forget about it. It’s water under the bridge. I mean you can probably get whatever guy you want, don’t worry about me. Or if it’s too weird for you, we can just not be friends, it’s alright, I’m completely fine with anything, just--”

You brought his lips to yours in a far overdo kiss. As you pulled away for breath, your lips spread into a wide grin.

“Shut the fuck up. I love you too.” He looked dumbfounded for a moment before his mouth quirked upwards into a love-struck smile. 

He laughed and pulled you back in for another kiss as the sirens and chaos surrounding you seemed to disappear.

ayy, just the prologue left now! thank you for all the support on my first series! sorry i’m always so inconsistent w my posts but we got here in the end! keep fighting for black lives matter and stay safe! love y’all💕

“He--he, Brock Rumlow, my agent. He was waiting for me in my car when I left the art studio.” you sucked in a breath. “He threatened to kill my sister if I didn’t--” he bit his lip. “If I didn’t kill you by today.” You looked at him trying to fully understand what he was saying.

“Is that why you haven’t been coming to art?” you thought out loud. He gave you a solemn nod. 

“I don’t--I don’t know what I’m gonna do,” he said softly, with a new vulnerability. 

“I just, I can’t lose Becca or… or you.” His winter blue eyes looked into yours. You bit your lip in thought. You two sat in complete silence, heavy and defeated for what felt like hours when you had a sudden surge of emotion. You stood up.

“Maybe you don’t have to. At least, yet. Get up Barnes.” You extended a hand to Bucky. He looked up at you with confusion.

“What?” he questioned.

“We’re not giving up, not just yet. We’ve still got what--” you looked down at your watch. “We’ve got an hour. Let’s save your sister. No one has to die tonight. You in?” Bucky stared at you like you were crazy.

“But how? All we’ve got is a gun. I’ve thought this over a billion different ways, there’s no way,” He reasoned. “He probably already knows I couldn’t shoot you. He’s got eyes all over the city.”

“Well, I wasn’t here before. And look at it this way, if we fail then--” you sucked in a breath. “At least we can say we tried. Deal?” Bucky looked hesitant but eventually clasped his hand in yours and pulled himself up.

“But I need you to be safe. If you got hurt because of me, I--I couldn’t forgive myself.” He brushed his hand across your cheek.

“I’ll try my best,” you responded. You gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 

“We can do this. Do you trust me Bucky?” He looked you dead in the eye.

“Yeah, I really do.”

“Then we gotta hurry.” You sprang into action and pelted down the hall, Bucky close behind you. You reached the staircase. After just a few steps you realized how much this would slow you down.

“Shit,” you muttered.

“Wait, I have an idea.” Before you could react Bucky swooped you up, wedding style and jumped over the railing. You yelped.

“What the fuck!” You both landed surprisingly safe. You kept descending the steps as fast as you could. Bucky looked over at you and grinned. 

“I had a parkour faze when I was in highschool.” He looked a bit sheepish. You managed to heave out a laugh at that. It released a lot of the tension previously there. They reached the first floor in record time and got in Bucky’s car that had been carelessly placed in the middle of the lot. You clicked your seatbelt into place and asked, “How far is your sister’s place?” His eyes widened in realization.

“More than an hour,” he said as he started turning the car out of the parking lot. 

“But if I speed it should be around 30 minutes.” 

“Just for reference, how good are you at driving?” you tried, fearful of the answer. Bucky clicked his tongue.

“I guess we’ll see.” He pushed down on the pedal hard. Your head hit the head rest. You felt your breath leave your body.

“Bucky!” you yelped alarmed. He didn’t seem to hear you as he was focused on the road. The car sped along the road with the determination of someone who had nothing left to live for. 

After only a little time, you heard the police sirens behind you. In the rear view mirror you saw the blue and red lights spinning. Bucky just went faster. It turned out he was a decent driver, but all the same, the car swerved harshly dodging vehicles left and right. You thought you might be sick. 

The car was painted by the crimson and azure lights. 

It was a good thing that it was late at night when there were less people out and about, because if this was during daylight you most certainly would’ve gotten into a crash. 

The world flew past you in a blur. It began turning from tall industrial looking buildings to calmer suburbs. By now you had to be going at upwards of 90 miles per hour. It was terrifying but it gave you a rush. You heard the police speakers boom commands but you allowed yourself to relax a little bit. 

As you got further, you seemed to lose the police cars. You had pulled out your phone and had been tracking the amount of time it would take to get to your destination. The minutes were steadily decreasing.

Only a little bit left to go, you thought to yourself. 

What were you doing? The blinking icon on your phone screen was so close to the end of the line.

“Take a left, and in two blocks you will reach your destination,” the robotic voice informed. The car swerved hard again as your body slammed against the window of the car. You had never seen Bucky so determined. 

In barely any time at all you heard the same robotic voice. “You’ve reached your destination.” 

The car screeched to a halt. Bucky tripped out of the car and ran full sprint to the house. You followed him. He rapped on the door of the quaint white house.

“Becca! Becca, can you hear me?” He repeatedly pressed the doorbell. You stood behind him, craning your head to try and see anything through her curtained windows. You heard footsteps behind the door. 

The door swung open, revealing a brunette woman. She looked to be a little younger than Bucky, but she had the same baby blue eyes. She was dressed well, with a ruby dress and her hair curled. She had a full face of make-up to match. Bucky didn’t give her a chance to speak, instead engulfing her in a hug. She returned it but looked confused.

“Hey Buck, what’s up? Why are you here at--” she turned her head to get a look at the clock “--11:48 at night?”

“Sorry--god--I’m so glad you’re okay. I can explain later, but right now I just-- we need to go.” Bucky attempted to push her towards the car but she pulled away.

“Um, I’m glad to see you, but I’m kind of in the middle of something,” she responded tentatively.

“What--?” Before he could finish a figure appeared behind Becca through the door.

“Hey Becca, what’s going on?” A low, gravelly voice asked, leaning on the door frame with an unforgettable smirk.

“‘S nothing Brock, just my brother,” she told him as she inserted herself by Rumlow’s figure.

“Bucky, meet Brock.” She gestured between them. “My boyfriend.” Bucky felt his breath leave his body and squared his shoulders, lifting his chin.

“We’ve met before,” the brunette grunted. Brock smiled.

“Indeed we have. Baby, I know this is our date but could we invite them in? They look cold,” he suggested, with a look on his face that was icy calm. This is when Becca noticed you.

“Oh, hi, I’m so sorry, nice to meet you! You are…?” She took your hand and speedily shook it with both of hers.

“Oh, yeah, um, I’m y/n. I’m friends with Bucky. I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s nice to meet you too!” you attempted a fake cheery tone. It shook a little, being caught off guard.

“Sorry to bother you so late but um--” you glanced over at Bucky. “--you know what, it’s nothing--how was your day?” 

“Oh, was pretty good. Thanks for asking,” she responded with an unsuspecting smile. “Here,” she said, gesturing for you to come in. You nervously stepped inside. 

As you passed Brock he whispered into your ear, “It better be nothing.” You could feel the heat from his breath. Even as  he pulled back and you got out of his range, you felt his eyes follow you. Bucky seemed to notice as he pulled you to his side protectively. You didn’t miss the murderous glare that the brunette had given Rumlow. 

All of you seated yourselves on various couches and chairs around a round, glass coffee table. You could feel the uncomfort radiating off everyone, excluding Becca. The room was awkward and tension filled. Rumlow and Bucky eyed each other hostily. 

Becca seemed to sense this as she tried to start a conversation.

“So…”

“Hey Brock--'' Bucky interrupted, saying the other man’s name like a slur. “--How do you feel about backstabbing motherfuckers who try to murder people?” Yours eyes widened at the lack of tact. 

Subtle, you thought. Rumlow’s eyes narrowed but his lips parted in a small smile.

“Haven’t thought much about it, unfortunately. Now tell me, have you ever lost someone you loved?” Bucky looked like he could’ve ripped out his throat right then and there. Becca looked between them with confusion.

“I’m sorry, did I miss something?” she questioned.

“Nope.”

“Barely,” Both men said at the same time. Becca continued to observe them suspiciously.

“...Right.” The room filled with thick silence once more. She cleared her throat.

“Well, I’m gonna get something from the kitchen real quick,” she excused herself. Brock stood up a little too fast.

“I’ll come with you,” He told her.

“Oh, baby, you don’t need to,” Becca replied.

“No, no, I will,” He insisted. 

Bucky craned his neck to make sure they were out of sight and hearing range. Once he was confident they couldn’t hear, he scooched closer to you.

In a hushed whisper he asked, “Okay, what’s our plan? How do we get her out of here? Brock’s not going to let her out of his sight and she seems to trust him.” You stared at the floor in thought and fiddled with your fingers. 

You turned to look at him.

“I don’t know yet, but we’ll figure it out,” you responded passionately.

 Bucky’s winter blue eyes looked into yours, and neither of you seemed to be able to tear away. 

“Yeah...we’ll figure something out...” He trailed off as he glanced down and bit his lip. He brushed your hair out of the way and grasped your neck. Your heart was beating out of your chest.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered lowly. You sat there, frozen, yet you were impossibly hot. You parted your lips slightly. He leaned in as your eyes fluttered close. His lips grazed your. You could nearly taste him. A scream shook you from your trance. You and Bucky turned towards the sound.

“Becca!” he shouted and bolted to the kitchen. You ran after him but not before looking at the clock. 

It was 12:00.

“Shit.” you followed Bucky into the kitchen. 

There you saw Brock with his back against the window, preparing to jump out at any moment. He had a tight grip on Becca, one arm around her neck, nearly strangling her, and a large chef’s blade pressed to her throat. 

Small droplets of blood were trickling down her body, disguised by her already scarlet dress. Her eyes were wide and panicked, but she didn’t dare move an inch. 

Brock had a cold, sharp smile, which was somehow more terrifying than if he had a crazed one. All the color had drained out of the brunette next to you.

“I’m a man of my word, Bucky boy.”

sorry this took forever ahaha :’) also sike nvm not finale take that i have a problem

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“Why are you doing this?” he breathed. He knew Brock’s answer.

“I’m not letting you ruin my reputation. I worked hard to get where I am, and you’re not going to try anything. Now, you can take my offer. Or,” Brock equipped a faux sorry voice. “You can kill your lil’, poor, baby Becca. Your move Barnes.” Bucky took a sharp breath.

“What do you want?” The brunette looked into the rear view mirror to Brock grinning like a maniac. 

“You’ve got a lot of questions for a dead man.” He leaned in close. Bucky could feel the heat from his ex-manager on his ear. 

“I have only one request.”

Brock continued in a menacing whisper. With every word he said Bucky felt like he was losing more and more oxygen. The simple sentence felt as if it was an eternity. When Brock finally pulled away, he only said six words.

“You’ve got a week. Bye now.” he opened the car door, and disappeared into the night. 

It was as if he was never there, but the single Polaroid of his sister taunted him, reminding him this wasn’t just a nightmare. Bucky sat completely alone, soaking wet, with not much more than thousands of strings of thoughts choking the air out of him.

He just wouldn’t accomplish Brock’s request. But the thought of his family’s blood on his hands was so much stronger. How did he get into this shit? He let his forehead fall onto the steering wheel in defeat. 

~~~

On the first couple days after, Bucky had been confident he could avoid any of the outcomes. There had got to be, there HAS to be, there always is. But days kept going by, faster than he could fight. His hope for an easy solution, or pretty much any solution, dwindled and was diminished, like a small, pathetic flame. 

Before he knew it, it was the morning of the seventh day since that night. Bucky had slaved for hours trying to find some way, some loophole, out of this but he just couldn’t find one. The deadline was approaching quickly and he didn’t have much of a choice. 

He sat in his dim living room mulling over his very limited options. Bucky looked like a wreck. His hair was greasy and tangled, his eyes were sunken and dark, he looked like he could’ve just gotten out of a cave he’d lived in for 100 years. He hadn’t been able to get any sleep for three consecutive days. 

He had done nothing but think but he still came out empty handed. There was nothing he could do. 

Bucky would have to do what Brock wanted. He put his face in his palms as a sob wracked his body. He shuddered in silent tears. They slid off his cheeks and landed on his carpet. 

Bucky would have rather been dead than be him at this instant. No matter what he did, someone would die tomorrow. Everything felt heavy. 

All he ever wanted was to be an art critic, his dream job since he discovered it. He supposed this was the price. Everything had seemed so perfect, too perfect. He should’ve know. Bucky laughed without humor and took a sip of beer from the bottle. He couldn’t have imagined being in this situation in his worst nightmare. Yet he was still here. 

That was Bucky’s last thought before he collapsed onto his couch and blacked out almost instantly. 

When he regained consciousness it was the evening. Bucky checked his watch. It was 10:43 pm. Only a little more than one hour until Becca would be killed. It was a ticking time bomb with no way to disable it. 

He had a decision to make. In the end, there was only one choice. He had known it all along but it was still endlessly painful. Even to think about it made him feel like his heart was getting cut out. 

“I guess it’s time,” The exhausted looking man mumbled. Life was far too long. 

He reached for a single pistol placed at the end of the clear glass coffee table. The last resort. Bucky grasped it with a shaky breath and slid on a black leather jacket. 

He walked out of the apartment. He got in his car and began driving. He drove as slowly as possible. Maybe that would delay what was about to happen. 

He tried to admire the outside world, one he might never see after this. Every tree, bug, person, building. The things he should’ve appreciated more. His destination was now only a little more than five minutes away. Bucky could barely breathe. His arms felt numb. 

Four minutes.

Three minutes. 

Two minutes.

One minute.

He saw the building coming up. The pit in his stomach grew. Bucky swallowed. If he had stood up at that moment his knees would have buckled. He felt like he was going to pass out but pulled up to the building anyways. He didn’t even bother to park, he just left it there in the middle of the parking lot and climbed out. 

He padded his way to the front door. It was locked but Steve had given him a copy of the key before he left. Bucky inserted the key and stepped inside. 

The halls were echo-y but not too large. What was though, was the staircase. It seemed to go on forever. Or maybe that was just what it felt like at the time. 

With a huff Bucky started his way up. His steps felt heavy. Each one boomed of a man who didn’t have any more strength left in him. He passed two floors, barely registering it. All he knew was what would happen at the third one. He was there the next minute. The adrenaline was catching up to him. 

Down the hall he saw the one person he wished to avoid as long as possible. You had come home for a quick change of clothes before leaving for some food. You came out of your apartment and fiddled with your keys a little before locking your door. 

You went to keep walking but instead you saw a certain brunette man who had missed his usual visits to the art studio. You figured it was because you had slept with Sam. You still felt guilty. You had been trying to contact him and explain but he never picked up or responded to any of your many texts. 

This seemed like the chance you’d been needing to make amends. You were a tad suspicious of why he’d come to your place, or how he even got in but you brushed it off. 

As you got closer to him you realized how terrible he looked. He could’ve been a walking corpse. His eyes were swollen and red like he had been crying. 

“Bucky!” you ran towards him. “Are you okay? Gosh, come here--” You stopped dead in your tracks. 

Bucky had pulled out a gun from his pocket and was pointing it straight at you. You felt all your air leave your lungs. A silence rang through the hall.

“...Bucky?” you breathed. Your confusion laid out on your face. The man in front of you looked as if he might fall apart at any moment.

“S-stay where you are!” He threatened, tears brimming from his eyes. You were still processing what was happening. 

“What are you doing?” you asked, fear creeping into your voice. He attempted a smile. It wasn’t ill intended though, it was one of those charming lop-sided grins that you liked, but this one felt different than the rest.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked out, full of remorse, ignoring your question.

“He-he said he’d kill my sister if I didn’t--” He took a breath. You took the opportunity to step toward him hesitantly.

“Bucky, we can figure this out, just please put the gun down.” Your words only made him hold on harder to the handle. He cocked the gun.

“Don’t get any closer to me.” He told you. His eyes were sad and mournful. He looked broken.

“Please,” he begged.

“Okay,” you held eye contact with him. “I won’t.” 

He interrupted, “I never meant for you to get swept up into this, I--I just wanted to have a normal life for a little bit, but--” his lip trembled. “--but I shouldn’t have. Now you're gonna hurt for it and I--I’m so sorry. You’re an amazing person, you always figured out a way to make me laugh and--god--your talent, it’s unbelievable. And I know it doesn’t mean much now but, I just needed you to know that you have been the best part of my life--for a while now--and I’m so lucky to have found you. Visit me in hell, if you get the chance.” Bucky breathed out a chuckle.

“D--don’t talk to me as if this is goodbye. We can still change this, we’ll find a way!” you searched his face for anything that could tell you that this was just some mean spirited joke, but it wasn’t there. 

Something else seemed to change in his face though you couldn’t quite place it. Bucky’s finger quivered on the trigger, a single twitch away from firing. He gave you an earnest, reassuring look that was contrary to the rest of his body.

With a shaky breath he continued. “I love you.”

He pulled the trigger.

only 2 more chapters(probably)! thank you for the support on my first series! i’m really bored so if anyone wants to hit me up feel free! 💕💕💕

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You sighed and put your supplies on the table. 

You pulled out a chair with a scraping sound and began working. Well you tried. When you attempted to warm up it all just came out wrong. Sketches aren't meant to be perfect but these were just plain bad. Your lines were far too dark, they weren’t flowing, it was just a mess. 

You ripped out the piece of paper and crumpled it up. You huffed in frustration. You drew up a couple more sketches but they ended out about as good as the first ones. Halfway through the last one your pencil lead snapped. Your lips tightened into a thin line. 

You were tense and exhausted and your art reflected that. How did life ruin the one thing you thought was untouchable? You hit your fist on your head. You tried so hard to ignore your thoughts but they just tumbled out.

What if Bucky had died? What would you have done knowing you were partly responsible for his death? 

Even if you didn’t dive into fantasy scenarios, his amputation was still your fault. He probably blamed you. What if he hated you now? You had just come to terms with how you felt about him and it was all for nothing. You wouldn’t blame him if he never wanted to see you again. You weren't sure what you would do in his place. 

You prayed he would still want to be at least friends if nothing more. But the more you thought the less likely it seemed. 

As you got lost in thought your hand seemed to move around on it’s own. Your pencil danced around the page, quick and sharp. You weren’t fully conscious of what you were doing. 

Is he going to sue me? You couldn’t afford for that to happen right now. You were just barely scraping by. Brooklyn is a pricey place to live. Steve would know what to do. He’d know how to handle situations like these. But he was across the country living blissfully ignorant. God how you wished that could be you. 

You realized what you had scrawled all over your page. It was a series of carnations, all splashed sporadically across the paper. You covered your mouth. Tears started overflowing onto your cheeks. You didn’t know why. A sob racked your body.

Your emotions clouded your mind, leaving you completely oblivious to the figure that had walked in. You shuddered out a breath as the person moved hesitantly towards you.

“Hey.” You jumped. You whipped your head around to see a certain blonde subordinate.

“Woah,” she said, backing up a bit. “Easy.” You swiftly moved to wipe away your tears.

“Hi Sharon--uh--what are you doing here?” you demanded. She clasped her hands together.

“Well, I work here,” she responded with a shy smile. You looked at her annoyed.

“Please just go do whatever you’re gonna do. Leave me alone,” you hissed. You were far too overwhelmed to deal with her right now. She didn’t move a hair.

“Are you okay? You seem really stressed,” she paused. “...and I heard about what happened to Bucky on the news. I know you guys are friends and I just wanted to check up on you.”

You looked up at her surprised, but you tried not to show it.

“Oh. I--um--...thanks,” you mumbled. “I’m really alright though.” You knew you didn’t sound convincing.

“We aren’t that close, who am I kidding, we aren’t even really friends he’s just an--an annoying guy Steve knows,” you insisted. Sharon gave you a look that told you she definitely didn’t believe any of your bullshit. Her mouth lifted into a half smile.

“We both know that isn’t true.” You needed to work on hiding your feelings. She shifted her posture.

“Look, I know we don’t know each other very well... but I just want you to know if you ever need anyone to talk to I’m--uh--I’m here. Maybe one day we can even be friends.” After a moment of consideration Sharon quickly left to her easel. 

You sat there dumbfounded. Your first instinct when you had met Sharon was that she was shallow and idiotic. The way she spoke to you like you were a child and her little mannerisms just rubbed you the wrong way. 

A couple of weeks ago if this same scenario had happened you would have fully dismissed it, but after meeting Bucky and realizing people had an infinite amount of layers, you just couldn’t. You spun your head around to look at her.

“Sharon!” you called. You made eye contact. You took a breath and continued, “Thank you.” She nodded toward you. 

Maybe you were wrong about her. You went back to work feeling lighter than you had before. Strange. 

When you touched the lead to the page it came out an elegant alstroemeria. Your lips quirked into a soft grin. You could almost forget your predicament. 

You began to sink into your art. This is why you loved it. It’s a different world where none of your troubles exist. One you can control. 

You continued to draw as the zen symphony played on the radio. You were focused. Your tears had smudged some of the led but it would be alright. 

The sun rose and fell again. Before you knew what was happening the morning shifted to afternoon. You heard the jingles of people entering and leaving. Pages being turned and pencils against paper. 

In what seemed like barely any time at all the glowing ball in the sky was skimming the horizon, ready to head in for the night. You were still blissfully drawing whatever came to mind. Everything will be fine. 

You were searching for a fan brush in the supply closet when you heard the muffled sound of the bell chime again. Your eyebrows scrunched. Nobody should be coming in and you were pretty sure everyone had left. 

The little ball of anxiety you had kept mostly at bay started growing once more. You turned around and looked through the closet window.  You couldn’t see anyone. You tiptoed to the door, making sure you didn’t make a sound. You grasped the door handle and turned it slowly. You opened it just a gap. You swallowed.

“Hello?” you asked with caution. No reply but there was a rustle. Your heartbeat spiked. You got this, you told yourself and held your breath. You opened the door completely and walked out with trembling legs. It was dead silent and dark outside. Not a great recipe.

“AAHH!” A figure jumped out. You shrieked, squeezed your eyes shut, and ducked. You heard the person laugh. 

Huh? That definitely sounded familiar. 

You dared to take a peek at your attacker. Your eyes found his baby blue.

“Bucky?” you asked incredulously. He grinned at you.

“Miss me?” You were at a loss for words. You stuttered.

“Wh--how--wh--what?” Bucky crossed his arms.

“Use your words y/n.” You looked at him annoyed.

“You’re so stupid,” you told him but engulfed him in a hug. He returned, holding you tight against him. You were happy he was back but also incredibly confused.

“Aren’t you definitely supposed to be in the hospital right now, you know, healing?” He scratched his face in fake thought. 

“Yeah, I was, but now it’s kind of not that way,” he replied. 

“Wow, poetic,” you retorted sarcastically.

“Why, thank you,” he stepped back into a bow. That’s when you actually got a good look at him. 

Wait.

“Do--do you have two arms or am I just hallucinating?” You were an even mixture of extremely disoriented and concerned. He chuckled. 

“No, you're not hallucinating you weirdo. I uh--,” he rubbed his neck. “--I did a thing…” When he didn’t resume you looked at him expectantly.

“Are you gonna explain?” He glanced back.

“I will but--but not here.” he lowered his voice at the last part. He shoved you back into the closet.

“Wha--hey!” he covered your mouth and shushed you. He closed and locked the door. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“What’s going on?” He licked his lips.

“Well when you left the hospital, I’m pretty sure my uh--,” he hesitated. “...my manager visited me.”

“What?” he shushed you again.

“Now, I don’t know what he’s planning but it can’t be good, and I need you to promise me to be safe,” he pleaded.

“Yeah of course I will, oh my god.” You covered your mouth in shock.

“But what about your arm?” His eyes widened as if he’d forgotten about it.

“Oh yeah, it’s a prosthetic. Giant metal experiment thing. Supposed to be super powered or something, that’s why I got out of the hospital so quickly. To help adjust they also gave me this serum, I’m--I’m not really sure how it works. Everything’s a bit of a blur. Anyway, just--be on the lookout, okay?” He looked at you like there was no one else. You nodded. 

That’s when you realized the position you were in. Bucky pushing you up against the shelves in a cramped closet, your faces just inches from each other. You suddenly felt very hot. He bit his lip. You caught his eyes glancing down. 

He leaned in just a little bit. You could feel his breath. You tilted your head forward and brushed your lips against his. 

You didn’t register what was happening when he suddenly jerked away. He wasn’t making eye contact. He was looking below that. You altered your gaze to mimic his. 

There you saw a giant, vibrant purple hickey. Bucky looked like his world had been shattered. He backed against the door. 

How did you miss that?

“No--no, It’s--” Not what you think? It was exactly what he thought. You didn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry, I--I have to go,” he stammered out and left as quickly as he appeared, slamming the door. You went to chase after him.

“No, please! Come back I can explain!” You exited the closet to find he was already gone. You screamed in frustration, kicking the wall. You collapsed into a ball on the ground. A thought came to you.

Why did he even care? He hated you...right? Maybe you should’ve run after him, but maybe it was for the best. 

Bucky burst out the door. It was pouring rain but that was the least of his concerns.

Why was he reacting like this? It’s just you...with a hickey. He bit the inside of his mouth and kept running. Every step splashed more water onto his coat. He ran to his car and slammed his hand on the windshield. 

Was he angry? Sad? Bucky couldn’t tell. He just wanted to leave and never stop. 

He desperately clawed his pocket for his keys and clicked them with a loud beep. The brunette tugged the door open and shut it just as quickly, sinking into his seat. 

He couldn’t believe any of this was happening and he felt like he was losing his mind. He tugged his heavy, soaking hair.

The sound of a gun cocking in the back seat snapped him back to reality. A low, haunting voice followed.

“Hey, James. How’ve you been?” 

so school just got canceled for the rest of my trimester :/ but at least that means i get to write more! thanks for reading and feedback is always appreciated! stay safe out there!

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