#colesfortunate500

He had no idea when he was going to ask – or any idea how he was going to, for that matter – but like with a lot of decisions Dean made, he made the decision to buy the ring pretty impulsively. In fact, one could argue that his decision to propose was impulsive too, but Dean knew that wasn’t entirely the case. Wanting to spend the rest of his life with you – that was backed with months of sleepless nights dreaming about you, thinking about you, loving you. And impulsive decisions – those are made without any kind of careful thought. So, buying the ring – that was impulsive. He had walked past it earlier this morning when he went out to get groceries, and it stopped him in his tracks. He just had to have it. He had to have it for you. Because to him, it seemed like the perfect ring. And it was only when he saw the ring that he was reminded that normal people in normal relationships do propose to each other, eventually. And between all the monsters and the injuries and the musty motel rooms – the two of you deserved a little normalcy. So, the decision to propose was impulsive, but the love he had for you? The way he just knew that he wanted to wake up next to you, go to sleep next to you, and everything else in between for the rest of his life? Well, that wasn’t impulsive at all.

“And I would walk 500 miles, and I would walk 500 more, just to be the man who walked a thousand miles to fall down at your door,” you sang along to your cleaning playlist as you finished making Dean’s bed. You absolutely hated how messy he kept his room; and every once in a while it needed a good deep clean. Every once in a while, the whole damn bunker did. And that day was today. The boys were messy – Sam a little better than the average man though, you had to admit – but Dean was the absolute worst. It was like living with a toddler. And since you practically shared a room with him at this point, you decided to do both Dean and yourself a favor by starting there with the bunker deep-clean. You sighed as you dumped out the clean laundry on to the bed so you could begin folding it. Most people hated laundry, but you actually found it quite therapeutic – especially when there was a good song on that you could sing along to. You continued humming along to I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) by The Proclaimers as you folded, singing along to the course again as you reached for the top drawer of Dean’s dresser to deposit some underwear. “And I would walk 500 miles, and I would –”

You stopped singing when you heard footsteps running down the hallway, Dean bursting into the room moments later looking scared and out of breath.

“No, no! Don’t clean my room!” he exclaimed, frantically holding his hands out in front of him just as you opened the top drawer to his dresser.

You huffed a laugh and looked at him quizzically, one eyebrow raised in amused confusion. “...Why?” you asked slowly, crossing your arms over your chest. The music continued in the background.

Da-da da da (Da-da da da)

Da-da da da (Da-da da da)

Da-da dum diddy dum diddy dum diddy da da da

“Because,” Dean looked around the room, trying to think up an excuse. The drawer was already open, he just needed to keep you from rummaging through it. “Because… um…” Dean stuttered, his eyes falling directly on the drawer with the small box inside. “Uh… um…”

You rolled your eyes. “Are you done being weird now?” you asked with a soft laugh as you shook your head and resumed putting up laundry, figuring that Dean was just being his usual goofy self for no good reason at all.

Dean stood frozen in anticipation, his words caught in his throat, as he watched you push aside his underwear to make room for the handful that you were holding.

“Y/N, wait –” he finally managed, but it was too late. He watched as your eyebrows scrunched up in confusion as you felt something underneath a few pairs of boxer briefs.

“Dean, how many times do I have to tell you that this is an underwear –” you began, as you pulled out the small object that you had felt, stopping your spiel when you realized what you were holding. Your eyes widened and you immediately looked to the green-eyed hunter standing a few feet away.

When I'm lonely, well, I know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be the man who's lonely without you

And when I'm dreamin', well, I know I'm gonna dream

I'm gonna dream about the time when I'm with you

“Um,” you began, not sure what else to say. You and Dean had been together long enough now, but you never in a million years expected him to propose. This was Dean Winchester for fuck’s sake. A proposal? With a ring? Marriage!? It was everything you wanted – it was. Some normalcy in the midst of all the chaos that consumed your everyday lives as hunters. But fuck, it was the absolute last thing you were expecting. “Uh –”

Dean quickly came up to you, taking the box from your hand. “Well,” he chuckled to himself, examining the box, “I guess now’s as good a time as any, right?” he asked, glancing up at you with a grin on his face.

“Oh – Christ, Dean,” you choked out, as you watched him get down on one knee. He was really doing it – all of it – the whole one-knee and everything. If you didn’t have a ribcage, you were sure that your heart would have beat right out of your chest.

Dean smiled as he noticed the song still playing in the background, the lyrics matching up perfectly to how he felt about you.

When I go out (when I go out), well, I know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you

And when I come home (when I come home), yes, I know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be the man who comes back home with you

I'm gonna be the man who's comin' home with you

“Y/N Y/L/N,” he began, taking the hand that you weren’t holding over your mouth in his, “this wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” he chuckled, referring to you finding the ring on accident, “but, uh, I’m glad it did, because God knows how long it would have taken me to kick my ass into gear and actually ask. Y/N, sweetheart, you are the best thing in my life. We hunt monsters for fuck’s sake and you – you make it seem like I’m living a goddamn fairytale. I… I don’t know a lot of things for sure. But I do know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And I want to marry you. Like normal people do,” he chuckled.

You couldn’t help the tears that began falling down your cheeks.

“So… Y/N Y/L/N… will you marry me?” Dean asked, opening the small box and revealing the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen.

You choked down a sob so you could form your reply, nodding quickly before getting out a, “Yes!” You threw yourself on him, your arms coming to wrap around his neck, and Dean hugged you back tightly as laughter escaped him. You pulled away briefly, and Dean took the opportunity to cup your face in his hands and kiss you – hard.

“I love you,” he smiled, his lips still brushing up against yours.

You held back a sob as more happy tears threatened to fall. “I love you, too.”

But I would walk five hundred miles

And I would walk five hundred more

Just to be the man who walked a thousand miles

It had been one of the worst hunts they had in a long time. Anything that could go wrong did, and they hadn’t even killed the demon behind it all. He had managed to get away, and that was eating Dean alive. After what that son of a bitch had done to Y/N, he wanted him dead, his whole family massacred.

Dean had decided to come back to the bunker and drink until he passed out. Y/N had gotten hurt, and it was his fault. He wasn’t fast enough to get to her before the demon had stabbed her, slicing her open like a cow at slaughter. He was still passed out on his bed when his door opened, and Y/N stepped through the door.

“Dean? Are you awake?”

He opened one eye to look at her. Her beautiful face was a little blurry from the alcohol still swimming in his system. He had been head over heels for the huntress for years but was too scared to put that target on her back by telling her how he felt. He had kept it pushed down, bottled up, and that’s where he wanted it to stay. But after today, he didn’t know how much resolve he had left. He had nearly lost her anyway. So, what was the point in hiding his feelings now?

“I am now,” he grumbled sleepily, still a little drunk.

“You were screaming for me,” she whispered, waiting on his response.

“It was probably a dream about what happened. I’m fine. You need to go back to bed and rest,” he stated bluntly, trying to keep his emotions at bay.

“D, it’s okay. You can talk to me.”

“Y/N, I don’t want to talk. I just want to sleep.”

She had a pout on her lips as she walked over to his bed, sitting down beside him. She locked eyes with him, never wavering as she ran her hand down his arm to link their fingers together. Dean could hear his heart beating in his ears. He had always wanted her, but now, he was on the fence. He didn’t confess his love to keep her safe, but that hadn’t saved her from almost being killed today. But if he didn’t tell her, what would happen next time?

“Dean, you can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Pushing me away. It’s not fair.”

“Y/N…,” he whimpered, hoping she wouldn’t have this conversation right now.

“No, D. I almost died today. I think the time for us dancing around each other is over, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he denied, but she could see right through him.

“You’re a hero, Dean. You’re strong and brave. But yet, you seem scared of me, and I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“Sweetheart, I’m no hero, and I’m not made of stone. Yes, I’ve saved people, but I’ve lost them, too. I’ve been too late to save people I love. Like today, I almost lost you because I was too late. I can’t handle losing you. Not now, not ever,” he choked on a sob, the thought of losing her too much.

“But I’m still here. I’m here because you did save me, Dean. After I almost died, I thought how horrible it would’ve been to go to the grave with you not knowing how much you mean to me, how much I love you.”

Dean sat frozen. She had just told him she loved him. She had just said the words that he had always wanted to say but was too scared to utter aloud. She had just called him a hero, told him he was brave, yet she was the one to have the balls to admit her feelings. All the while, he had been hiding behind his.

“Y/N, I-I….”

“Shh, just listen. I love you, Dean. I have for a long time, and I can’t keep hiding it. I can’t go to my end without you knowing that you are loved, wanted, and so much more. You deserve the world, D, and I would love to be the one to try and give it to you. I understand if you don’t feel the same, but just know, I’m here. I’ll always be here to love you, hold you, carry you when you aren’t strong enough to stand on your own. You said you aren’t made of stone. So, let me be your rock.”

Dean couldn’t form words. His eyes were blurred with unshed tears, and his heart pounding with the love he had for her. Within seconds of her speech, he had her face cupped between his calloused hands, his lips crushing against hers. He poured all the love and adoration he had in that kiss, hoping she could feel what she meant to him. Dean Winchester was tired of hiding behind the walls he had so carefully constructed. He wanted her, and she wanted him. That’s all that mattered now.

“Dean. Dean! Hey man, time to wake up,” Sam’s voice made him wake with a start, sitting straight up and looking around the room.

It all hit him again. Y/N wasn’t really there. It had all been a dream. She had died on that warehouse floor, blood oozing and surrounding them as Dean held her in his arms as he watched the life drain from her eyes. He had been too late after all.

Y/N had gone to her death, never knowing how loved she truly was. She would never know that Dean would’ve done anything to make her happy or to hear her laugh. Her laugh. He would never hear that magical sound again. He broke down into sobs as his brother ran over to wrap his arms around him, trying his best to comfort his brother. Sam knew what it was like to lose the woman you love, and he never wanted that for his older brother. Once Dean had calmed, Sam had to ask the question that he never wanted to let pass his lips.

“Are you ready to light the pyre? I’ve got everything ready.”

Dean sighed, knowing he couldn’t put it off any longer. He stood and followed his little brother out to the woods behind the bunker. There she was. Wrapped in a sheet, her body still and lifeless atop the wooden platform. He had to choke back more sobs as his brother asked him he wanted him to light it.

“No. I’ll do it. I owe her that much, Sammy,” he whispered, reaching for his lighter, flicking it, and throwing it at the foot of the pyre.

He stood silent as he watched the flames make their way up to her body. He had lost one more person he loved, but this one hurt so much more. She never knew that she was loved. But he vowed from that day forward, he would get his revenge. He just hoped he would see her again one day, but he didn’t know if that would happen. You never know where you’re going to end up when you’re on the wrong side of heaven and the righteous side of hell.

Looking at the receptionist behind the desk, he realized she didn’t know who he was, and that was a relief these days. No one asking him questions he had no answers to, no one telling him things they thought they knew about him, just because they read something in a museum. No one walking on eggshells around him because of his past.

“I’m… I’m here to…” he struggled to say her name, knowing full well he couldn’t just brush aside what this moment meant for him. “I’m here to see Rebecca Barnes.”

“Room 116, if you could just sign in,” she said, handing him a clipboard.

Quickly signing his name, he placed the board on the ledge, and made his way down the hall.

Stalling outside the open door, he glanced at the numbers to confirm it was the right room. Bucky stepped further in, the steady beeping of monitors and the rasp of the ventilator giving him some reassurance as he looked over the figure lying on the bed. Tears pricked his eyes as he gazed at the woman once younger than him, now in her 90s while he was frozen in time at the age of 26. Memories flashed before him; him and Steve going on every ride at Coney Island, Rebecca standing with their mother and Steve’s and complaining that she couldn’t join them, the three of them stuffing their faces with corn dogs and candy until they were full. He had missed her whole life after he had been claimed dead and taken by Hydra, and now here he was, discovering she was still alive and close to her own death.

Standing there in front of Rebecca, he realized how much more Hydra took from him than just his body and his mind.

He shuffled closer to her, taking in the deep wrinkles on her face and withered skin of her arms. Her eyes were closed as the ventilator helped her breathe, the rasping incessant as the machine kept her alive. Her white hair was tied in braid, a reassurance to him that she was well looked after, but it caused a guilt to settle in his chest. Had he known sooner that she was still alive, maybe they could’ve had some time together. He had found out from Natasha that Rebecca was in this nursing home, after she told him she did a little digging for him once his mind was clear of Hydra’s influence.

Taking the glove off his right hand, he slowly reached for her frail one, curling around the bony fingers. A tear finally escaped his eye, and he didn’t bother to wipe it away.

“Becca,” he whispered, as his eyes didn’t rip away from the sight in front of him.

“Excuse me,” a woman’s voice came from behind him, causing him to turn around.

Slightly stunned by the woman in scrubs, he took in the soft features of her face and her hair in a high ponytail.

“Oh my god,” she gasped as her eyes widened, her gaze locked on him once he turned to face her.

“I’m sorry-” he started but she cut him off.

“It’s you,” she muttered, her eyebrows furrowed as she looked at him. “B-But how?”

“Do we know each other?” he asked, his look of confusion matching hers.

She walked into the room and to Rebecca’s bedside, opening the top drawer of the chest kept there. She took out something that looked like a frame, staring down at it intently.

“It can’t be,” she said, turning back to him, shoving the frame at him.

Looking down at it, his jaw clenched as the photo in the frame haunted him. It was him, in his uniform from when he got drafted for the war.

“I…” It was as if his throat had constricted, closing off the air supply to his lungs. He felt frozen, but he knew he had to leave.

“Wait-” she called out, as he moved away from the bed.

Without a word, he refused to turn back as he stalked away. As he made his back to his apartment, his mind was conflicted as to whether he should go back or not.

He wasn’t ready to face more memories of the past and the questions he would no doubt get.

Picking a lock was one of the many things he never thought he’d know how to do but becoming a spy and an assassin for Hydra had him learning lots of things he would never come to terms with.

He had waited for night to fall before he returned to see his sister, knowing it would be quiet and no one would be around. He snuck in from the back exit and made his way to her room, quickly going in and closing the door with a soft click. A dull lamp shone in the corner of the room, and he walked over to Rebecca’s bedside, sitting down in the chair. He just wanted to spend some time sitting with her, and the silence of night would allow for that to happen peacefully.

He stared at her, once again taking in her features in the dim lighting. How he wished he could talk to her, tell her he was there and have her smile at him, wrap her arms around him and tell him everything he missed in her life. It would never happen and that was a harsh reality he had come to realize.

Suddenly, the door to the room opened and the lights flicked on, causing him to jump out of his chair and face the intruder. His first instinct was to reach for the knife, but he quickly remembered he didn’t keep one on his person these days. That wasn’t who he was anymore.

“What’re you doing here?” The nurse from earlier that morning was the one who had come in, and she glared at him as she made her way into the room.

“I wanted to see…” he started but stopped himself, knowing he couldn’t say sister and make it believable. “I wanted to see my grandmother.”

A felt a stabbing sensation in his heart as he said that. It just wasn’t right.

“That’s a lie,” she said, folding her arms across her chest.

“Excuse me?” He narrowed his eyes as he looked at her, unnecessary suspicions creeping into his thoughts.

“I know you’re Ms. Barnes’ brother,” she replied, the scowl never leaving her face. “I know your name is James Buchanan Barnes, born March 10th, 1917. You were a Sergeant in the 107th Infantry Regiment, after training in Camp McCoy in Wisconsin. You died in 1945… well, supposedly.”

Great. Yet another person telling him things from the Smithsonian. “Anything else you want to relay to me from a museum exhibit?”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “I didn’t go to DC. Rebecca told me all of this.”

“What?” he asked, once again confused by the woman standing in front of him.

“She’s only been like this for a few months,” the young woman replied, looking back at his sister. “Everyone else was ready to let her go… but I wasn’t.”

His face must’ve expressed the question he wanted to ask, because a frown finally turned into a soft smile.

“I’ve been looking after her. I’m her caregiver,” she stated.

His eyebrows lifted in surprise and turned to look back at Rebecca. A relief washed over him, knowing someone had been there to care for her when he wasn’t there.

“I may know those things about you, but that doesn’t mean that it makes sense for you to be here,” she said, walking closer to him as she started to analyze him with her eyes.

“It’s… a really long story,” he muttered, clasping his gloved hands together and absentmindedly touching his left, feeling the hard metal under the fabric.

“Well,” she sighed, as a small smile graced her face. “I’d like to hear it some time.”

He found himself smiling back at her, a strange twinge in his chest and fluttering in his stomach as he did. It was best to ignore it.

A few days later, on a bright New York morning, in the rooftop garden of the building, Bucky told her everything. As he left that night, he had learnt her name was Y/N and that she had been looking after Rebecca for 3 years. He found himself incredibly grateful and indebted, but he knew nothing he said apart from “thank you” would ever be good enough to acknowledge what she had done for his sister.

Sitting on a bench on that sunny morning, a coffee in each of their hands and a box of donuts between them, she stared off into the distance as she took in everything he had told her. He didn’t miss any of the big details, leaving only the specific ones out of the story, knowing what that would do to him if he focused on particular events.

“I can’t believe I never made the connections,” she sighed, taking her eyes off the view in front of her and turning to him. He was incredibly handsome, with his blue eyes sparkling and his exquisite jaw giving her ideas she definitely shouldn’t be having. “I knew about Steve, obviously Captain America, even the Winter Soldier. I just… didn’t know it was you.”

“It’s been well hidden for the most part,” he stated, taking a sip of his coffee.

“It all makes sense now,” she said, softly as she shifted on the bench, facing him properly.

“This is usually the time most people run for the hills.” He scoffed as he shook his head, turning to look at her.

“I’m not most people,” she stated, smiling.

His gaze wandered over every feature of her face, the same fluttering from a few days before resurfacing in his stomach. She was stunning, and if this was 1940 he would probably ask her out to dance, but that wasn’t his life anymore. He didn’t know how to navigate this world, the rules so different from what they were in the 40s.

“I guess not,” he said, smiling back at her.

It was the most he could manage for now. One step closer to some kind of normalcy would have to do.

Coffee and some sort of snack to go with it became their ritual.

Every day, Bucky would come to the nursing home and spend some time sitting with Rebecca, relaying memories to her, the ones that weren’t too painful to remember, and hoping she’d miraculously wake. After Y/N went about her morning routine, they would head out to the garden, making small talk over caffeine and something sweet. They talked about favorite books, music, movies and she would tell him how he needed to make a list of everything he hadn’t seen or heard of. It reminded him of Steve’s list, the second page of the notebook he used once he came out of the ice.

Y/N slowly sipped her coffee, watching Bucky as he titled his face up to the sky, the sun glistening off his smooth skin, eyes closed in thought. She wondered what was going through his mind, whether his painful memories were flashing before his eyes and if that was the reason for his quietness.

“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked, softly.

He huffed as he dropped his head, turning to look at her, his sea blue eyes gazing deep into her soul. “I’m pretty sure there’s too many of them for a penny.”

She nodded, quietly shifting closer to him. “Well… maybe even just one would help you find comfort.”

There was a small tug at his lips, but he dropped it. “I guess I was just thinking about everything I missed because my life wasn’t my own. How many… how many people suffered because of that.”

“None of that was your fault, Bucky,” she reasoned, her hand reaching across and curling over his, their hands interlocked. “You can’t do that to yourself anymore.”

“They just use your mind and you never get the credit,” he stated, shaking his head as his jaw clenched. “Unless you kill someone… then the credit’s all yours.”

Looking down at their hands, he felt the smile returning to his face. Somehow it was easier to talk to her, almost as if she would never judge him for the things he did. He knew his oldest friend wouldn’t either, but he felt like he would just be hurting Steve by telling him how he felt.

“That’s all in the past now,” she reminded him, her tone gentle as she slowly pulled the Velcro back on his glove.

“Y/N-” he tried to stop her, but she shook her head, smiling softly at him.

She pulled the glove off, her eyes landing on the vibranium as the light bounced off the surface. Delicately, she intertwined her fingers around his metal ones, looking into his eyes as he fearfully peered back at her.

“This is the only thing that should stay from your time in Hydra. Everything else… it doesn’t change how I see you. How Rebecca would see you if she could. It doesn’t change the soldier in the 107th, the little kid who rode the Cyclone at Coney Island just to see his friend throw up,” she explained, giggling slightly as he laughed at that treasured memory. “It doesn’t change the person you are now, the one trying to live his life away from those dark clouds.”

“Thank you,” he said, quietly as he gazed at her.

“For what?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

“For everything you’ve done for my sister,” he replied, a soft smile on her face. “Everything you’ve done for me.”

Bucky’s eyes never left hers as he leaned in timidly, his lips capturing hers in a feather light kiss. It lasted a few seconds, their eyes closed with foreheads pressing together as they basked in the moment.

Tenderly, he curled his metal fingers around hers, the grip only firm enough to let her know he cared for her, just as she did for him.

The sun is high in the sky, bright blue and cloudless. A perfect day, under any other circumstances.

Clenching the small bouquet of white daisies tight in his metal hand, Bucky crouched down in front of the gravestone, tears pricking his eyes. He allowed them to fall just as he allowed himself to mourn his sister as he remembered her, because she was gone too along with her elder self.

“I’m sorry we didn’t have more time,” he whispered, placing the flowers on the grass next to the stone. Placing his hand on top of it, he breathed deeply. He felt a small hand on his shoulder, a smile pulling at his lips as he turned his head to see beautiful blue eyes looking back at him.

“Daddy,” the girl giggled, falling into him.

He wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head. “Hey, sugar plum. Did you run off on your mom again?”

“She sure did,” he heard Y/N’s voice say, huffing as she tried to catch her breath.

Standing up, he picked up his little girl and wrapped her legs around his waist, walking towards his wife.

“Rebecca Barnes, what’re we gonna do with you?” he asked her, blowing a raspberry on her cheek, causing an enormous giggle to leave her.

Reaching Y/N, he leaned in and kissed her softly, once then twice before he let her lean against him. They both looked back at the grave, the memory of losing his sister still fresh in his mind, even with 3 years having passed.

“You alright?” she asked him, gently soothing her hand up and down his back.

“Yeah,” he replied, sighing deeply. Looking down at her, he smiled as he gazed deep into her eyes, almost the same way he had in the garden of that nursing home, all that time ago. “Did I ever thank you for everything you did for her?”

“Several times,” she replied, looking up at him. “Why?”

“I just don’t want to ever forget how incredible you are,” he stated, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers in a passionate kiss.

Beaming at him, she snuggled into his crimson Henley, tilting her head up to stare into his blue eyes. “Let’s go home.”

As they walked away from the grave, Bucky went with the knowledge that while one important woman left his life, he still had two more in it.

Two incredible women who made his future brighter, eclipsing his past and making sure all those painful memories stayed exactly there, only holding onto the pure ones.

-x-

Here’s the basics:

Send me an ask, message, or comment to join. Prompts are first come, first served.

As this is an 18+ blog, I do ask that all participants be 18+.

No minimum or maximum word count. You want to send me a 200 word drabble? Sweet. You want to write me a 12k word novel? I’m here for it. Just the fact that you’re participating and writing for my challenge is appreciated and I love it.

Please, please use a keep reading break if it’s over 500 words. 

Tag @wonder-cole​ in your AN and use the #colesfortunate500 tag in the first five.

Combine with whatever challenges you want. You might even bring something new to my attention.

No underage smut. 

I’ll reblog everything on @colereads​ and link all the posts in a master list when the challenge is done.

Due date is: 10/31/21. Halloween.

No. Fucking. Hating. On. Others. NO FUCKING FIGHTING. Ain’t nobody got time for that.

One person per prompt. I’ll add more if they all get snatched up.

Without any further delay, here are your prompt choices!

I’m gonna be (500 Miles) - The Proclaimers

Mambo #5 - Lou Bega

Seasons of Love - Rent Cast

“You want five hundred dolla?!” 

“It’s five o’clock somewhere.” @flamencodiva​

“Honor's killed millions of people, it hasn't saved a single one.”

“I don't know love. I was built to protect not to love, so there is no use for me other than this.”

“We're newlyweds. Just met. You know how it is. We bumped into each other, sparks happen…”

“You wanna play it soft. We'll play it soft. You wanna play it hard. Let's play it hard.”

“I realize you that must be pretty mad at me, but I want you to know that I am fighting for a noble cause.”

“Okay... rope, tape, cable ties. You're the complete serial killer.”

“You want hearts and flowers? That's not something I know.”

“I’m hurting, baby. I’m broken down.”

“I just can't apologize, I hope you can understand.”

“When I had you to myself, I didn’t want you around.”

“I drove for miles and miles and wound up at your door.”

“Tumbled out of bed and I stumbled to the kitchen.”

“I swear sometimes that man is out to get me.”

“They just use your mind and you never get the credit.”

“You used to call me baby now you’re calling me my name.”

“Remember the words you told me.”

“I’m no hero and I’m not made of stone.”

“I can smell your scent for miles.”

“What is it really that motivates you?”

“I’m gonna be the one that’s taking over.”

“I do what I can but I know I can’t take anymore.”

“I know you don’t believe in me but I do believe in you.”

“I don’t know why I’m still alive.”

“Some things are just meant to be.”