#sebastianstanreader

Sebastian stopped biting his lip and laughed. "Then can you stop acting so crazy for me?!" he yelled. "If you love me that much, then trust me! You don’t pick a fight in front of my friends. Especially not over some redhead I’ve never even met!"

His words, his voice—it all stabbed through me. I could feel my lower lip trembling. There had only been a few moments in my life when I’d felt this small. And this was one of them. Something was slipping, and I couldn’t catch it.

"I’m sorry," I finally whispered, finding my voice.

Sebastian shook his head. His eyes were brighter than ever. I could see the storm coming.

"No. This was the last time." He ran his hands through his hair, pacing back and forth. Was he trying to convince himself? Or was he really done?

My brows furrowed as I repeated his words in my head.

Last time?

"What does that mean?" I asked, eyes locked on his blues. They used to pull me in like the ocean, but now there was no safety in them. My anchor had become a storm. I was drowning in his stare.

"We can’t keep doing this." His hands hovered in the space between us.

"What? You’re just going to leave me like this?"

"Because I’m twenty-one and you’re thirty-two? You’re seriously using age now?! Are you ashamed of me?!" My voice had become a scream.

Sebastian raised his hands. "There it is! You screaming for no reason! Maybe it IS the age thing! Maybe you haven’t grown up yet! THE WORLD DOESN’T REVOLVE AROUND YOU, NORA!"

"I— I never said it did!" I was sobbing now.

Sebastian stepped closer, closing the distance. His icy blues locked on mine, our faces inches apart. The way his eyes held me—I felt like I was going to shatter. "You’re unbelievable," he spat. I watched as he grabbed his keys. I couldn’t stop crying. Even through blurred vision, I didn’t blink once. I couldn’t look away from him.

"Where are you going?" I asked, finally able to speak.

Sebastian sighed. "It’s over, Nora. I can’t do this with you anymore. I’m done."

I stood frozen, watching him stumble out of the hotel room and slam the door. I didn’t say a word. Just watched.

The flower arrangement on the table shook from the impact. My breath hitched. Tears filled my eyes again. My fingers reached for the fabric of my dress. I raised a hand to cover my mouth, still staring at the door he walked out of.

He left me. He broke up with me. On the night of his movie premiere.

"Oh my God..." I gasped, finally giving up the fight against my tears. I collapsed backward into the armchair. My shoulders shook with sobs.

My body moved without me. I had no control. The realization crashed over me, and my sobs grew louder. My body hurt from shaking.

He was gone.

And it was the last time I saw him—until that stupid offer came along.

✯

I never heard the sirens. I didn’t feel the firefighters pulling me from the crushed convertible. I only vaguely heard the sound of metal groaning as they dragged my nearly lifeless body from the wreck. I didn’t see the stranger’s corpse being zipped into a bag and removed from the scene. I didn’t know he was dead.

While the world moved around me, I remained in darkness.

I never noticed everyone around me speaking Romanian, a language I didn’t know—except through Sebastian’s translations. Propped on a stretcher, I started to hear the faint sound of a helicopter. I pushed all my strength into opening my eyes. When I did, I could see the green straps of the oxygen mask, and in my peripheral vision, something white around my neck. I was strapped from the waist down, my dress had been cut open, and there was a sheet over me. People were speaking rapidly around me.

A woman appeared over me. She said something in Romanian, and I caught my name mid-sentence. "Nora Walter, Douăzeci și șapte, femeie, kaza de mașină. Știm încă de un contact de urgență?" She turned to me. "Nora, I told them your name, your age, and that you’re female. Do you have an emergency contact?"

I blinked at her.

When she realized I couldn’t speak, she took my hand. "If you understand me, squeeze my hand twice." Somehow, the calm in her voice grounded me. I squeezed her hand twice. It hurt. She smiled. I felt the lift of the stretcher—but it made my body scream in pain.

"Rus— Russel Wilhelm," I stammered. "Seb— Sebastian Stan," I added seconds later, using the last breath in me.

She turned back to the team. "Întâlnește-te cu Travis Wilhelm și Sebastian Stan. Starea femeii este gravă. Luați legătura și anunțați-ne cât mai curând posibil!" Words Sebastian had once translated for me now poured from her mouth fluently. Someone handed her my phone.

"Once we land, we’ll call them both for you, okay?"

I sniffled. "Am I going to die?" My voice was barely there. But I had to know.

She nodded. "Sweetheart, we’re going to take care of you. Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be okay." She squeezed my hand and gave me a soft, clumsy smile before turning back to the others shouting around us. Soon after, I felt myself being moved again.

Darkness took me again. My broken body dragged through it

✯

Sebastian sat there, staring at the ceiling. "You idiot, you should’ve gone with her." He bit his lower lip, wrestling with himself. The leftover red wine gave him an excuse to sulk. He didn’t call her. No. He hadn’t dared invite her to Romania for a quick weekend getaway.

Not while his heart still belonged to Nora. It took him far too long to realize they needed to work things out. He replayed their breakup like a film in his head, each scene hurting more than the last. He could still see himself storming out of the hotel room, slamming the door.

He still remembered blaming her age. She was only twenty-one, and he was thirty-two. They were both fools, and he should never have made it about that. Nora was insecure and loved him. And he shattered her.

He rubbed his face, scratching at his beard. His phone rang—Russel.

He answered and took a sip of wine. "Hello?"

"Sebastian, there’s been an accident…" The sound of packing in the background. "Nora… I don’t have the details, but she was taken to the hospital. I’m sending a car to pick you up."

Sebastian almost shattered the glass in his hand. "What?!" he shouted, jumping to his feet. "Oh my God, is she okay?!"

Russel took a shaky breath. "I don’t know. The car flipped—ten times, maybe? I think her ribs are broken? Whoever called me spoke English, so maybe there was a translator? I don’t know. They’re hoping she’ll be okay."

Sebastian felt his chest collapse. "Okay. I’ll see you soon."

He packed quickly. Just as Russel had said, a car was waiting downstairs. The door opened automatically. Sebastian nearly dove into the back seat.

His stomach churned. He fought back tears and bile. The car sped toward the hospital.

All Sebastian could think about was the last few weeks. How cruel he’d been. How they’d both gone for each other’s throats without hesitation.

He thought about the girl he slammed a door on. Was she scared? Was she even conscious? If not, how had they reached Russel?

Sitting in the backseat, he twisted with anxiety. The second they arrived, Sebastian burst through the hospital doors. He didn’t want to be here—but he had to be.

In the lobby, Russel quickly caught him. They rushed to a waiting room.

"Any news?!" Sebastian asked. Russel shook his head.

"Still in surgery. Nurse said the doctor will update us when it’s over."

The wait began.

What felt like four hours was just one. Sebastian bounced his leg, Russel made phone calls canceling upcoming shows.

Finally, a male doctor entered. Clipboard in hand. Serious eyes.

"Mr. Wilhelm and Mr. Stan? What is your relation to Ms. Walter?"

"I’m her manager," Russel said.

Sebastian didn’t hesitate. "I’m her boyfriend."

The doctor nodded.

"Ms. Walter made it through surgery. But recovery will take time. Four broken ribs. A fracture in her left foot. Dislocated right shoulder. She hit the dashboard—but miraculously, the only facial injuries are a broken nose, split lip, and a black eye."

Sebastian’s heart sank.

Russel exhaled in relief. "She was drunk. Her BAC was over the legal limit. But maybe that kept her conscious and able to give us your names."

The doctor placed the clipboard behind his back.

"She’s alive because she wore a seatbelt. The driver was ejected through the windshield and was killed by an oncoming vehicle. No ID, face unrecognizable. We’re waiting on confirmation."

Russel gasped. "She wasn’t alone?"

The doctor nodded. "If you knew him, we’d take a statement. But clearly, you don’t."

Russel collapsed into a chair.

"When can we see her?" Sebastian asked.

"She’s recovering. Once she wakes up, we’ll transfer her to a room and you can both see her."

✯

"Ms. Walter, can you hear me?" A soft, unfamiliar voice broke through. I felt the numbness. My eyes opened slowly. Bright lights. White room. A young nurse adjusting something on a monitor.

"We gave you something for the pain. Do you feel any?"

I tried to move. Nothing.

"No," my voice trembled.

She smiled, grabbed my chart. "You’ve got two visitors. They waited all night to see you. I’ll let them know you’re ready."

I said nothing. I leaned back into the stiff mattress. Oxygen in my nose. Blood still in my mouth.

Soon, Sebastian and Russel entered the room.

"Baby," Sebastian rushed to me. Russel followed. Both stood on either side of my bed.

My eyes moved between them. I started crying again.

But when my gaze locked on those ocean blues I missed so much—the dam broke. A sob escaped me as his hand cupped my cheek. Russel stepped back, watching us.

Sebastian leaned down and kissed my forehead. My body shook.

"Baby, don’t cry. I’m right here." His voice soothed me. "I’m so sorry," he whispered. "I was awful to you… I’m so glad you’re okay."

"W-What happened?" My throat burned with every word.

Russel spoke. "Car crash. It flipped. Four broken ribs, one fractured ankle, dislocated shoulder. But… that’s it. You’re okay otherwise."

I cried out. Sebastian kissed the tears away.

"Baby, breathe. You’re safe now."

This was the Sebastian I knew. Or maybe it was the painkillers making me see things.

"P-Please don’t leave me," I whispered.

He nodded. "I’m not going anywhere, beautiful. I’ve got you." He laced his fingers with mine.

Another promise he might not keep.

I lay there, tears flowing. Thinking about the runways I’d miss. Would I ever be the same? Would magazines forget me? Would a limp end my career?

Everything I worked for—gone. All those sleepless nights. All those hunger pains. Friendships ruined for covers.

Gone. Sebastian was here.

But would he stay?

Would he slam the door in my face again?

✯

NORA WALTER WILL RETURN!

It was hateful for Polina, but she couldn't fight it. With every passing second she felt a pain crushing her. The tears had already dried on her face. She was alone with only the alarm clock flashing red numbers on the screen, still feeling the relentless grip of his arms on her body.

Logically, she could not find sleep. This did not surprise the young woman. She could feel his insistent gaze on her, but she did nothing but avoid it, just like everyone else who had moved into her building that infamous day.

She was stupid! As soon as he recognized him, she should have acted immediately. She would have had to run away again, yes, but she wouldn't have done it to herself again. Yet somehow she had promised herself to live her life. Well, now her life didn't seem so rosy and flowery.

"What are you thinking about?" Bucky asked Polina almost in a whisper. After his outburst he went to the bathroom for a while and finally decided to lie down next to the young woman right away. After a few minutes he decided to dare to put his hands on you and the young woman didn't fight: after all, she didn't stand a chance.

No one would stand a chance against the former winter soldier. She knew better than to beg him.

"It's nothing." She answered briefly, looking at the alarm clock that was still jumping ahead a minute. Bucky was probably not pleased with her answer because the young woman could feel the whip radiating from his body and his grip tightened slightly. She squealed slightly with the pressure in her belly but she didn't dare to react to him more, to show more interest in him. Just like that day, she refused to even look at him and God, Bucky was feeling so angry. He really wanted her to see what he saw, to see him imagining her right away, but there was no way.

She decided to dare a little more to stop only at dawn.

"Think about it, it's perfect. You can finally get over… your trauma, I can help you." He whispered in the young woman's ear, sending shivers through her body. She whimpered, shaking her head at every unhealthy idea she could think of. Bucky insisted anyway.

He decided to stretch her body towards the young woman, almost rising up towards Polina's trapped body. With the same hand (the vibranium one) he took the young woman's chin with such sweetness that the young woman could hardly believe it was her. After his grip, he forced the young woman to look at him. She couldn't look anywhere else, she couldn't look at anything but those eyes.

"You caused this trauma, you can't fix it."

He almost whimpered when he saw how a small smile appeared on her lips. It was as if he hadn't heard her, as if he was arguing with a completely different Polina and entertaining her every moment. Because Bucky was so very calm and Polina was clearly afraid of his unpredictability.

"Yes, I did, and I'm sorry, baby, I'm so sorry. I wish I could go back, start over with you, but I can't. We see this as a new beginning." he whispered so sweetly that it made the young woman sick to her stomach. He was dreaming, he looked at Polina with such tenderness that the young woman was frightened. He didn't understand how she had managed to get through all the reactions, she was just stuck in this moment.

Did she miss any memories?

What happened to her?

"It's not a beginning, Bucky. My beginning was without you and-"

She couldn't finish the sentence, didn't even think to continue. When his vibranium hand cupped her face, his gaze suddenly hardened, especially as he squeezed her cheeks so hard that they stung. He groaned in pain, thinking that at any moment he could seriously hurt the young woman, but seeing her frown, it seemed that he was the one who had the audacity to look hurt.

"No, you don't understand. You were my beginning, of all my memories, after the night terrors, after the nightmares, you were the only one who managed to brood for days over a person they forced me to become. You are my beginning and you need my help, baby." He growled almost like a beast during his little speech and Polina could barely hold his attention.

This grip hurt the young woman very badly. Only when Bucky saw the tears in her eyes did he decide to slowly release his vibranium hand. When he brought his face closer to hers, she could almost feel the bile rising from her stomach.

"No, please-" she whispered desperately, feeling her handcuffed wrist still aching. She began to kiss away the tears that threatened to fall. When the young woman thought he was going to come back to her side, he decided to sit even better instead. She began hyperventilating, imagining only one scenario.

God, she couldn't stand the nightmares, she managed to endure his insistent, if not inappropriate, touches and his words, his closeness, his scent. He felt the pain under his skin. The fact that a former winter soldier could go so far as to take a young woman like Polina had ruined her life. She would never get over it, never.

"Shh, easy, baby. I could never do such things to you, never." He comforted the young woman, almost reading her mind as he kissed her face lovingly. Everything, every bit of skin from cheek to forehead, was kissed devotedly by him. It felt as if it was sacred to her, as if it really was everything. Stockholm syndrome? The young woman didn't think so. Slowly calmed down by his revelation, she decided not to open her mouth again until she was sure he was really calm. But then again, Bucky seemed like a man who would lose his temper quickly. He was very unpredictable and Polina knew very little.

"Please stop… I'm- I'm sleepy." she murmured, too embarrassed to feel his kisses on her face. Bucky quietly rested both elbows on the sides of her head and looked straight into her eyes with a sweet, gentle smile. Polina couldn't believe that Bucky was holding her captive in his apartment, or that he was somehow involved with the winter soldier, but he was. And now the two of them were just standing here. The young woman tied to the bed by the winter soldier.

"Then I can help you sleep, honey." The nickname disgusted the young woman but she nodded with only a fake smile on her lips. She literally had to do something to get her off her high. Still Bucky kept rushing and told Polina to just close your eyes. She didn't want to close them, she wanted to watch his every move but she didn't want to contradict him or even challenge him. She was afraid. Of what might happen if she closed her eyes or what he might do to her for not closing them.

So she gave up and closed her eyes slowly, Bucky was almost surprised. You could tell by the way she murmured gratefully. The young woman waited for him to move her, but Bucky continued to caress her face instead. Polina felt the chill of his vibranium hand on her skin as his flesh hand carefully combed through her hair, careful not to hurt her. To the young woman's detriment, it seemed to work.

Slowly her muscles began to relax and she was already falling into the arms of what she hoped was a dreamless sleep. Bucky, on the other hand, continued to watch the young woman. He was grateful that she had closed her eyes, because her smile was wider than the one she was showing Polina, so that the young woman could not see the love written in her eyes. He was wonderful in every way and in every expression. A perverted part of him admitted that he was perfect when he cried, but he never told the young woman, knowing how much she was still afraid of him. But that won't last long, no. She would understand him, even love him. At the thought of her kissing him, Bucky felt like he was in heaven.

Kissing?

The thought really hit him, he could see his muscles relaxing completely and his eyelids growing heavier and heavier. Bucky tilted his head slightly and looked at her slightly parted lips. Without thinking, Bucky slowly walked up to the young woman's face and gently placed his lips on hers. He felt shivers run through his body and a desire that drove him to continue again and again.

But what had he told the young woman, what had he promised her he wouldn't do anything? No, not yet.

Bucky wanted to create a strong bond first, even if the existing one was already unbreakable. But the thought that he might want her body from afar already made him feel ecstatic. Bucky continued to kiss the young woman gently and smiled slightly at the thought that one day he might kiss her.

It was going to be real.

Just as he was no longer a winter soldier, Polina was no longer afraid of him.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hyperventilation is the process of breathing in and out frequently. during this process, the amount of Co2 in the air inside us decreases, while the amount of O2 does not increase. the human brain looks at the Co2 ratio of the air inside the lungs to make the decision to breathe. the brain of a person who is hyperventilating before diving does not feel the need to breathe because it perceives the amount of Co2 as low. however, this is an artificial situation and since there is not enough O2, blackouts and even fainting may occur during the ascent to the surface, which is the last seconds of the dive. When you are alone, you should be careful not to dive to your limits. Hyperventilating is usually done by people who want to stay underwater longer, but it is a risky behavior.

Stockholm syndrome is a term that describes the psychological state of the hostage, which can be summarized as the emergence of emotional sympathy and empathy in the process of possible dialogue with the hostage-taker.

He took a deep breath and walked to the front door with a single suitcase and new keys, then followed the stairs. His apartment was 305. He remembered it was on the first floor, easy to reach. She started walking and looking at the numbers on the doors.

301. 302. 303. 304-

The door suddenly opened and he saw a girl coming out. He suddenly tensed as he realized how nervous, almost scared she looked.

Scared?

He was surprised when the young woman appeared in front of him. He didn't know what to do, he had to say hello. Well, maybe, if she was more… normal. When she finally looked at him he still looked upset and immediately apologized, gestured and talked about how he thought something had happened.

Something?

He wanted to raise one eyebrow in response but she couldn't shake a strange feeling.

“Don't worry. I'm new here and, um… it looks like you're here with me. Nice to meet you, I'm Bucky.” he tried to sound as free as he could and put on one of his best expressions. He was really trying, but there was something dead on his face. He then focused on her hesitant gaze, grabbing the hand she gently offered him.

It was only a second, but that touch somehow pushed him back. Without even realizing it, he frowned and realized that he hadn't been paying attention for several minutes to the embarrassed smile on her face.

Great, he had already made an embarrassing figure. He cleared his throat, waved his hand briefly and, without making too many claims, walked past her to the door of her apartment.

He quickly opened the door and entered with his suitcase, locked himself in and leaned against the door, then closed his eyes and those eyebrows reappeared.

There seemed to be something wrong with him, especially 'him'. Maybe she was in trouble and could help, even if she wasn't in the mood to babysit. After all, after all, knowing at least one person, adding one contact to her phone, in addition to the psychologist she was obliged to see and who was constantly following her to check on her condition, was an excuse to finally start over.

Wasn't it?

(When I was writing Polina, for some reason I always had Dakota Johson in my head:))

Polina opened her eyes again, breathed slowly and let her muscles relax a little. Still, her mind could not move itself.

On the other hand, her mind had a sensitive passion for details, especially those blue eyes.

When she heard heavy footsteps going up the stairs, she was sure it was the same damn footsteps, and without thinking she opened the door and went out into the corridors. It was only after she turned around and almost tripped over the stranger that she later apologized to.

The person she was looking for was right in front of her, she said something to him casually and only then realized she had made a mistake. When he had finished speaking, it was as if his eyes had become clearer, as if he was not the ruthless killer: yet she would have recognized those eyes anywhere. A different glow, but it was still him. It was impossible not to recognize that body, and even with short hair he had a strange passion for detail in his mind, so he had no doubts.

She hadn't spoken that day, so she couldn't tell from the voice if it was really him, but this time she was sure. His whole body froze in place, but when he noticed her questioning look and that doubt in her eyes, he decided to start his own game. A kind of hide and seek, because if he really remembered her he would kill her instantly.

Wouldn't she?

He said his name was Bucky, but Polina remembered him as the Winter Soldier.

When he left without much of an excuse, she released that great agonized sigh she had been holding in. She was standing in the corridor with her eyes wide open.

She didn't know how or why, but she didn't remember. He believed he had played well, even if he had noticed the trace of suspicion, maybe he was safe.

Or maybe this would be the beginning of a long game of cat and mouse.

TAG LIST:

She didn’t say much at first. Just stood there watching her friend hug me like we’d known each other forever. I was pretty sure she’d said she only met the guy yesterday—and didn’t want to go alone since it was too soon. Yeah. Just yesterday.

When Steve held out his hand to break the awkward tension, she snapped out of it and shook it a bit too quickly. That was how the four of us officially met.

The conversation soon got lively, and we ended up walking toward the amusement park. Her friend—Anastasia—was already asking war questions. She seemed fascinated by front-line stories. I wasn’t.

But Steve? Steve was thrilled to talk. He answered all her questions as we walked in silence behind them. I was starting to wonder why she’d agreed to this date at all. She didn’t seem into soldiers—definitely not into war stories. But even when Anastasia ignored her completely, she didn’t mind. I could tell. That’s what best friends do.

While they kept chatting ahead of us, I noticed her glancing at me. She looked over, shrugged, like she was waiting for me to say something. We were both clearly bored. Forgotten.

I smiled and changed the subject. Smoothly, if I say so myself. The conversation kept rolling until Anastasia finally got tired of the book talk.

She noticed the look on my face—yeah, I probably looked a little down. But she didn’t say anything. Instead, she just slowed down. Maybe hoping I’d slow down too. When Anastasia kept talking with Steve and we lagged behind, I caught up to her pace.

“You okay? Your feet hurting?” I asked, looking at her shoes.

“No, I’m fine. Just sick of the war talk, that’s all.” She kept walking slowly.

“Same,” I sighed. “Feels like a never-ending topic at this point.”

“Yeah. Where there’s life, there’s hope.” She said it so casually.

My breath caught.

“What did you just say?”

“I said, ‘Where there’s life, there’s hope.’” She repeated it, probably thinking I was surprised she quoted something.

I was. No one ever got my references.

But she wasn’t just anyone.

“You’re a fan? No way…”

And that’s when the real conversation began. Turned out she was a massive book nerd too. She read everything she could, bought every book she finished.

Before I knew it, our shoulders were touching. She smiled and blushed a little—but didn’t move away. I was aware of how close we’d gotten. I glanced at her friend, half-expecting a look. But Anastasia didn’t seem to care. She was still clinging to Steve’s arm, laughing at something.

“You’re really beautiful,” I murmured, almost without thinking.

She looked caught off guard. She was about to apologize on Anastasia’s behalf—but she blushed instead.

“And you love books. I’m a lucky man to be talking to you.”

“I could say the same, Sergeant. I’d pick books over battles any day.”

“Then you found the right date,” I said with a grin, looking around. “Wanna get some ice cream?”

“That sounds perfect.” And that’s how we split off from Steve and Anastasia. I told them we’d go get something and didn’t wait around.

We spent the next hour just walking, talking, trying games. I even won her a teddy bear. Now and then we pretended to look for Steve and Anastasia, but honestly… we didn’t care.

“I can’t remember the last time I felt this comfortable around someone.”

“I’m glad I’m not boring you.” She said it in a way that didn’t feel like forced small talk. She was comfortable. It was wild to think we’d only met two hours ago.

I smiled. “I feel the same. Steve always says I’m boring.”

“He is, too.”

“He is?” I laughed.

“Yep. Who would’ve thought Captain America would be into war stories?”

“Doesn’t the name kind of give it away?” I teased.

“His name says heroic and dull. And honestly? Stealing his best friend’s date doesn’t scream honor.”

That threw me for a loop. Was she defending me?

“Maybe I stole the date,” I muttered.

“She didn’t pay attention to her date the whole night. All her energy was on her best friend.”

“She still doesn’t?”

“She’s into him. No doubt.”

She was acting like she didn’t understand what I meant.

“Well… feelings are mutual. About the date. And about now.”

“You weren’t interested in Anastasia?”

“Wasn’t that obvious?”

“No.” Especially not when they hugged the second we showed up.

“I was trying to be polite. She insisted on the date because I helped her out. I was just glad I could bring Steve.”

“She seemed interested in you—until Captain Rogers started storytime.”

“She’s been staring at his back since we arrived.”

She laughed, and I joined in. That moment shaped the rest of the night. We both realized—we didn’t care.

The sound of the last box being loaded onto the truck snapped me back to reality. I’d been spacing out a lot lately. Mostly back to the 1940s—when life felt simple and good.

I’d been thinking about that date with Steve. Technically, I’d gone out with Anastasia. But I couldn’t stop remembering the girl she had brought for Steve. The one I ended up getting close to.

She looked so sweet, so innocent. But I knew—better than anyone—how dirty she could get in a back alley.

If that damn train hadn’t derailed… maybe she would’ve been the woman I came back to.

Steve had Peggy. And me? I had… that sweet girl. The one whose name I still couldn’t remember. The one whose face never fully formed in my memories.

I sighed, hard and bitter.

I gave the apartment one last glance. Just like I’d promised Polina, I’d packed everything up in two days. It was time to leave.

Even if I’d been the architect of her trauma—and made everything worse trying to fix it with some reckless plan—after that raw apology and painful catharsis, I felt something I hadn’t in a long time.

Safe.

No, it wasn’t healthy. For either of us. Not even close.

But somehow… my apology had done what years of therapy never could.

Still, Polina had asked for closure. She didn’t want more nightmares. She wanted to say goodbye properly. She asked me to tell her when I left.

I still couldn’t make sense of the past week—what I’d done, what I felt, what had changed. I couldn’t believe I’d become this man. It ached.

But I’d keep my promise to her. At the very least, leave a final moment behind that felt more like peace than destruction.

As I walked toward Polina’s door, those eyes I could never forget filled my mind again.

And the thought of the girl—whose name I still didn’t know—was already beginning to crawl back into my bones.

Polina refused to open her eyes, defying the sunlight streaming into the room. She had no intention of starting a new day with her own killer. She was certain she would rot away in this bed. What she wasn’t sure of was what she might lose in the process.

Even with her eyes tightly shut, Polina could still sense the movement in the room. The sun must have spread more deeply into the space than she expected, because with every step he took, the man's shadow reflected across her closed lids.

She could no longer ignore the smells and sounds reaching her. Her stomach growled in response to the aroma, giving her yet another reason to silently curse. The man didn’t bother hiding his smile at the sound.

“You should wake up, beautiful. You need to eat breakfast.”

At the sound of his voice, Polina felt a wave of nausea. She squeezed her eyes shut even tighter. She tried to make herself smaller where she lay. Maybe, if she shrank enough, she could disappear. At least, she wanted to believe that.

Her subtle movement hadn’t escaped Bucky’s eyes. He let out a deep breath and slowly stepped toward the bed she was tied to. He was trying very hard not to startle her. Of course, he knew from the beginning that he had chosen the wrong way to approach this. But he had done what first came to his mind. He couldn’t miss this chance. And once they talked about everything, she would understand. She would agree with him. She wouldn’t be afraid. Bucky was sure of that—just as sure as he was of the memories he clung to. Or at least, he had trapped himself in that illusion. In the end, everything would be fine.

He slowly sat down on the bed she was tied to. He noticed how she pulled her legs closer to herself. With every move he made, she curled deeper into a fetal position, trembling more with every breath. He let out an audible sigh and settled onto the corner of the bed. He didn’t move, didn’t speak for several minutes. And during that time, he could see her trembling begin to ease.

Eventually, Polina—perhaps out of discomfort from his silence, or out of a foolish kind of bravery—finally opened her eyes. Slowly, she turned to the man sitting on the edge of the bed. The moment she did, the man with one metal arm, who had been staring out the window, met the gaze of the woman he had tied to the bed.

Even Polina herself was surprised that she could speak, but the words still slipped from between her lips.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, finally beginning to comprehend the reality of what was happening—resenting every moment of the past three years, but especially last night, which felt like months even though it had only been hours. She kept talking, tired of running and staying silent all these years. She was tied to a bed now—how much worse could things get?

“I don’t have the energy to go through another breakdown like last night,” she said, finally meeting the eyes of the man who had broken her mind.

Bucky could see that the fear hadn’t left her—but she was exhausted by the constant helplessness. He had replayed last night a million times in his head. He wasn’t proud of what he had done, but he didn’t know what else to do. His social skills were dead. He had no one to guide him. No family. No friends. They were all gone—dead because of him. He knew he deserved this loneliness. The screams of those he once called comrades still echoed in his head.

“I didn’t come to apologize for what happened last night,” he said, locking eyes with her again.

Polina took a deep breath and sat up slightly in bed. She was almost upright now. “Then what are you here to apologize for?” she asked. The absurdity of the situation would have made her laugh if she had been anywhere else. She wasn’t used to having bed chats with the man who had shattered her. And yet, deep down, she was curious about what he had to say. Some part of her—though she wouldn’t admit it—knew that his apology might be more healing than all the therapy and pills in the world. How ironic, wasn’t it? Maybe God didn’t have a great sense of humor after all.

Without hesitation, Bucky responded to her question. “For everything else,” he said, taking a deep breath. He looked around the room again, then brought his eyes back to meet hers. She was now sitting fully upright.

“I’m sorry for following you with a smug smile on my face three years ago.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he could see her muscles tense. But he didn’t stop. He should have stopped last night, but he hadn’t. And he wouldn’t stop now, no matter how much it pained him. He owed her this—this beautiful, fierce woman sitting across from him.

He kept leaving new scars on her soul, and yet, even when his mind had been washed clean, the one thing he could never forget was the brightness in her eyes and the way she had once stared him down without fear. He still didn’t know why. But for some reason, he hadn’t been able to kill her. And now, his blood-stained hands had left yet another wound on the most delicate spirit he had ever known.

“I’m sorry you had to witness what I did, in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He wanted to close his eyes, but he knew she was listening—holding her breath.

“I’m sorry I made you live your life in fear and doubt.” He turned his body a bit more toward her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t kill you that day and left you alone with what you saw.” A single tear escaped from Polina’s eyes.

“I’m sorry for treating you like an object.” He reached out and untied her hands, gently tracing the marks left by the rope with his thumb. The cold of his metal fingers made her shiver. But she didn’t flinch—not because she’d forgotten he was a killer, but because for the first time, maybe… she realized this trauma had destroyed him even more than it had her.

“And most of all, I’m sorry you ever had to meet me.” Bucky let out a bitter chuckle. The kind that cursed his existence, his life, everything he had done.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, this time barely a whisper. The super soldier’s eyes were glossy, his voice nearly gone.

“I’m Bucky Barnes. I’m no longer the Winter Soldier. But I’m still sorry for fucking up your life.” He blinked away the tears threatening to fall and met her eyes once more.

Polina took a deep breath. “Thank you.” There was a broken smile on her lips now. “I just hope not giving up on people won’t be the end of me.”

Her small smile allowed Bucky to breathe a little easier. The former assassin let a half-smile creep across his face.

“That’s what makes you incredible. You’re always there for the ones you love—even if they don’t deserve it.”

“You know that’s never going to change.” With every word, every confession, every apology, Polina felt lighter than she had in years of therapy. And Bucky could see it too. With every second that passed, her gaze was becoming braver.

“Even if it does… it’s okay.” He smiled a little more, wanting to give her strength. He didn’t want to overstep. And yes—he was ignoring the fact that he had kidnapped her. But in this moment, it felt like none of that mattered.

“From today forward, I’m going to take care of myself.”

Polina swallowed hard at his words. “Is it over?” She wanted to sound confident, but her voice barely rose above a whisper.

Bucky averted his gaze. For a moment, he felt his throat dry up. He moistened his lips, fearing he couldn’t speak otherwise. It felt like all the water in his body had abandoned him.

Eventually, the woman before him gathered her courage again and rose from the bed. “Yes,” he said, walking over to the tray of breakfast he had prepared. He placed it gently on the bed in front of her.

After clearing his throat and regaining his voice, he spoke again: “Eat. After that… you’re free to do whatever you want.” His eyes drifted aimlessly around the room. With his right hand, he rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’ll find a new place for myself. Give me a day or two. After that, you’ll never see me again.”

They say every road has an end— but some endings feel like beginnings.

Even when you think you’ve come a long way, you may find yourself right back where you started.

Because every journey is full of ups and downs, and one wrong step can lead to disaster.

But no matter what— you must stick to the plan and carve your own path.

Because there’s no turning back now.

And this time, it looks like it’s going to be the journey of our lives.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Stockholm syndrome is a term that describes the psychological state of the hostage, which can be summarized as the emergence of emotional sympathy and empathy in the process of possible dialogue with the hostage-taker.