#post serum

It’s so very hard to breathe.

Every inhale is agony, every exhale excruciating. They had definitely cracked a few ribs, and with every movement, he could feel muscle and bone and skin twinging and aching.

Bucky coughs, wincing against the fire in his chest, spitting the blood to the side of the chair. He had bitten through his lip again, futile efforts to not scream, and the coppery taste of torn flesh fills his mouth. He doesn’t bother trying his bonds - he knows the leather straps secured him tightly to the chair.

The days had blurred together, hours stretching like years, with only the silence and the pain for company. It was like clockwork, round and round, the torture then the silence then the torture once more.

In the beginning, he was defiant, spitting in his captor’s faces and laughing even as the blade cut deeper. He had tried to fight, a few times, stopping only when they broke all of his fingers and were about to snap his wrists. He remembers the crack, the agony that ripples deep into his body, the way the skin shifted as the bone slid out of the socket.

He had hoped, naively, that someone would come to save him, that Steve would come to save him. He had fought for Steve’s sake, every laugh and curse and bone broken for him.

But the days passed, and soon Bucky gave up.

He hadn’t let any information out, had said nothing but taunts and curse words, paying for his silence in blood and screams. He had told them nothing, about him or Steve or even the army. It was perhaps one of Bucky’s gifts, the ability to bite down, stifle the groans and keep smiling, through the pain and torture and heartache.

It was perhaps the one thing he regretted hiding his feelings, not being able to kiss Steve one more time.

But that was long gone now, nothing but memories and touches, and so, Bucky lets his head fall against the back of the chair.

Captain america by FantasticFand