A/N: this started off as being based on the Olivia O'Brien song, All the Time, and then kind of took on a life of it's own.
Trigger Warnings: self harm, mention of past suicide attempt, suicidal ideation, depression, alcohol, drug use, weight loss. Please do not read if any of these things will be triggering to you!
It’s just one, you thought to yourself, taking a long inhale of the cigarette in between your fingers. Just one won’t kill you.
It was a beautiful night. The air was warm and the breeze blew your hair back as you sat on the roof of the tower, looking out at the city below you. The nicotine burned in your lungs and you relished the feeling, throwing your head back as the world spun around you. It had been so long since you had smoked, so long since you had felt the need to. But recently, the world had felt a little too heavy. And again, one cigarette won’t kill you.
For months, you had felt like you were just floating through life. Not really there, in your own body. You went through the motions, dissociated from yourself. You knew to smile at the right time, when to fake a laugh, how to arrange the food on your plate so it looked like you had eaten more than you had.
It had been a while since you had felt this bad. You struggled with depression your entire life but for the past few years, you had been able to manage it. You could put the thoughts at bay, hold them down and go spend time with your friends until you felt better. But it wasn’t so easy this time. The last time it had been this bad had ended with stitches in your wrist.
You eyed the glass of wine that you had brought up to the roof with you and the orange pill bottle that sat next to it. Leftover oxy from when you had your wisdom teeth taken out a few months ago. Deep down, you knew that you shouldn’t do it. But you just wanted one night to take the edge off. Grabbing the pill, you popped it into your mouth, washing it down by chugging the wine. You took another inhale of the cigarette, patiently waiting for the drugs and alcohol to hit your system, hoping and praying that it would make you feel better, just for tonight.
“Y/N?” a voice said from behind you.
You turned around, seeing Bucky standing by the door to the roof. “Hey Buck,” you answered casually. “Couldn’t sleep?” It had become a common occurrence, you and Bucky spending your insomnia filled nights together. They seemed to be more and more frequent lately, as sleep evaded you nearly every night. Even though all that you wanted to do was shut down your consciousness, it became more and more impossible.
“Nah,” he replied, walking over and taking a seat next to you. “Hey, you smoking?” He asked, noticing the burning ember in your hand.
“Just having one. You want?”
“No, I don’t. And you shouldn’t either,” he scolded. Sure, he had grown up in a time when everyone smoked. So had he, pre-hydra. But since he escaped their clutches, he abhorred cigarettes. Every time you expressed that you wanted to have a cigarette, you were met with a lecture about how your body is a temple and superheroes can’t smoke because they need to be at peak health to fight. You knew he was right, which was why you hadn’t smoked in years. But you couldn’t find the energy to care anymore.
“Just let me enjoy this for tonight, okay? It’s like my mom used to say about having dessert. It’s okay in moderation.”
He noticed the distant look in your eyes. His gaze locked on the empty wine glass and pill bottle. “Are you drinking? And did you take this?” He asked, concern lacing his words.
You threw your head back in frustration. You were in no mood for one of his lectures right now. “Buckyyy,” you groaned. “I’m an adult, I can do what I want. I just want one night to let loose, okay?”
He stared at you. “But why? What’s going on, Y/N?”
“Nothing’s going on. I just want to sit up here and enjoy this night with a glass of wine, a pill, and a cigarette. Can you just let me have that?”
He sighed. He wanted to fight you. To protest and tell you that you were being reckless. He wanted to push you to tell him the reason that you were doing this. But he knew you too well. He knew you were stubborn and closed off and you definitely wouldn’t listen to him. “Fine. As long as you don’t do it all the time.”
“I don’t. I won’t,” you assured him. But you weren’t sure if it was a lie or not. “It will all be fine,” you continued, not sure if you were trying to convince him, or yourself.
Bucky stayed with you on the roof, not saying anything. You didn’t mind his presence. In fact, there was something peaceful about the comfortable silence as the substances filled your head.
You weren’t sure when you fell asleep but you woke up the next morning in your bed, and you weren’t alone. “Bucky?” You shook him awake gently.
“Oh, hey,” he mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of his blue eyes. “You fell asleep on the roof last night. I brought you down here but I didn’t want to leave you alone just incase you needed anything.”
“Thanks, Buck,” you faked a smile. “But I’m fine. I told you, I just needed one night.”
He looked at you, trying to read your expression. He could tell that there was something deeper going on. He knew you. You weren’t the type to be reckless like that for no reason. “You can talk to me, you know. Just… if you ever need a friend. I’m here.”
“I promise,” you met his eye contact, hoping it would strengthen your case. “I’m totally fine.”
Of course he didn’t believe you, but he didn’t push back. Over the next few weeks, he kept a closer eye on you. His stealthy assassin skills allowed him to observe you without you even noticing. And you were starting to break down more and more every day.
Being alive felt like a chore. Every day that you opened your eyes, you sighed with discontent, the thought of facing another day feeling impossible. You were slacking during training, a combination of the lack of food that you ate and sleepless nights. Not to mention that you had developed a ritual of a glass of wine and a pill to help you sleep. You’d step outside to smoke a cigarette or two some nights.
Your mind was a battlefield, dark thoughts filling your brain telling you to hurt yourself, to starve yourself, to do everyone a favor and just end it. When you noticed that you were running low on the pills, you purposefully put yourself in harms way during a mission. I’ll either die, you thought, or I’ll get hurt severely enough that Bruce will have no choice but to give me more.
Bucky watched from a distance as you self destructed. He could hear you crying at night. On more than one occasion he saw you sneaking into your room with a full bottle of alcohol. And you had stopped spending time with him in those late hours, even though he knew you were awake.
He wanted to reach out, to push you to let him in, to tell him what was going on with you. But he knew that he had to be careful. If he said the wrong thing, you’d immediately shut down. You were used to keeping your problems to yourself. This was no different.
You thought you were getting by. That you would be fine. The denial that you were in pushed you even further away from anyone. You refused to get help because in your mind, everything was fine. You’d come out of this just like you had before.
One night, you sat in your room with a bottle of vodka that you had finished. You hunted through your drawer to find those magic pills only find that the bottle was completely empty. “FUCK!” You yelled, throwing the bottle against the wall and smashing it into a million pieces. You needed those pills. You couldn’t survive without them.
The panic filled your body as you paced around the room. Your breaths started coming in faster intervals as your heart rate increased. It was like everything came crashing down at once and you couldn’t resist anymore. You grabbed a piece of glass off the floor and brought it to your arm. Before you could control it, your arms were covered in bleeding cuts. You let out a guttural scream that turned into a sob.
Bucky shot up from the couch, hearing the sound of pain and anguish coming from beyond your door. Something was incredibly wrong.
“Y/N?” He yelled, trying to open your door. It was locked. Of course it was locked. “Y/N, let me in right now!”
You barely even heard him, lost in a state of panic and pain on the other side of the door. “Y/N, I’m not fucking around! Let me in or I’m breaking down the door!” When his words were only met with more sounds of you crying, he used his metal arm to thrash against the concrete. As the door opened, his eyes landed on you, curled up with your knees against your chest, crying and shaking and bleeding. He felt like his heart was being ripped out. He had never seen anyone look so broken and small. Dressed only in a t-shirt and shorts, he noticed just how thin you had gotten and all of the bruises that painted your arms and legs.
“Holy shit,” he whispered. He froze for a second taking in your state before snapping out of it and rushing over to you. He kneeled down next to you, wanting to ensure that you were aware of his presence so that he didn’t startle you. “Hey, hey,” he said gently. “It’s me, it’s Bucky. Can you hear me?”
Slowly but surely, you broke out of your trance and met his eyes. “Bucky?”
“There she is,” he replied. His eyes were full of care and fear.
You collapsed into another sob, your head landing in his lap. Without hesitation, he started stroking your hair. “It’s okay, you’re okay. Just let it out. I got you.” His words of encouragement prompted you to cry more, soaking his lap with your tears. “It’s bad again, huh?”
You sniffled. “Yeah, Buck. It’s really bad.” His heart broke further at your words. You had become so important to him over the past few years. Whether it was your late night deep chats, training together, or even something as simple as running to the store, you held a special place in his heart. He cared so deeply about you. He had fallen in love with you. And seeing you in such a broken state absolutely destroyed him.
“Oh sweetheart,” he consoled. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped you.”
“I didn’t realize how bad it was. I-I thought it would be fine. I thought I could get through it,” you resigned, voice full of defeat and exhaustion.
Bucky sighed. “I knew that you weren’t fine. Ever since that night on the roof, I knew you weren’t okay. I should have tried harder to help you. I’m so sorry.”
You carefully moved to sit up, taking your time due to the blood loss and alcohol going straight to your head. “I wouldn’t have let you. Don’t apologize.”
“Can you talk to me now? Please, Y/N. I need you to let me help you.”
You were too tired to fight him. Physically and emotionally. “I’m a mess, Buck. My brain… it’s so dark. I can’t stop thinking about dying. The only thing that makes it stop is drinking and-” you paused, afraid to admit that you had still been taking those pills. “And the pills. The oxy.”
His jaw clenched. “I’m gonna help you, okay? Please, Y/N, just let me help you. I can’t lose you. You mean too much to me, to this whole team, for you to let these thoughts win. And you’re too good of a person, too strong, to let them win. Please,” he begged. “Please let me be here for you.”
You were quiet for a moment before nodding. “Help me, Bucky. Please help me,” your voice broke and he pulled you into his arms.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m gonna help you through this no matter how long it takes.” He felt more tears on his shirt as he held you. But he didn’t move, didn’t tell you to stop. He just held you while you cried, allowing you to get out everything that you needed. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” he suggested, once you had calmed down.
He picked you up and brought you into the bathroom. He took his time cleaning and bandaging every self-inflicted cut on your arm. After, he carried you back to your bedroom, helping you to change into fresh clothes. He made sure that you were comfortable in bed with a glass of water by your side.
“Bucky?” you spoke, after being silent through the whole process. “Will you stay?”
He gave you a sad smile. “Of course. I’m not going anywhere, okay? Not tonight, not ever.”
“W-will you hold me?” your voice shook.
“Of course, darling.” He climbed into your bed next to you, positioning you gently in his arms. He was scared out of his mind for you. He knew that whatever road you had ahead wouldn’t be an easy one. But he knew that he would stick through every curve and bump that would appear. “Get some rest, okay? We’ll talk more in the morning.”
“Thank you, Bucky. I think… I think i might have done something really bad if you hadn’t come in.”
“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, okay? I’ll protect you from anything.”
“Even myself?” you whispered.
“Even yourself. I got you. I promise, Y/N. You’re gonna get through this.”
