Steve hadn't been expecting his day to go like this.

In fact, he had been expecting it to be a good day- or at least a better one than the week they had been having.

He thought today would be fine because Bucky had managed to get out of bed that morning, which was an accomplishment in itself. But it was only to go to the bathroom, and within a few minutes Bucky was back under the sheets.

He hadn't gotten out of bed for the past four days. He wouldn't eat, he was barely sleeping either. He was just lying in bed, the covers up to his neck as he lay on his side staring dully at the wall in front of him. Steve had coaxed him to get up, but Bucky wouldn't listen. Bucky didn't say anything. He wouldn't talk to his boyfriend.

Steve had to practically grab Bucky by his long black hair and tip his head back to force him to at least drink water so he wouldn't die of dehydration.

But Bucky didn't move, except for the occasional trip to the bathroom, but even then he wouldn't acknowledge Steve's presence as he smiled and asked Bucky to join him in the kitchen.

Steve was worried. He had even called Bruce in desperation.

"I'm not a psychiatrist, Steve."

"But you have to do something."

"I don't know what I can do for him."

"Please, Bruce. I'm begging you."

And so Bruce came over, and he was right. There was nothing he could do. Steve watched as the doctor sat on the edge of the bed, speaking softly to his boyfriend- asking him questions that Steve couldn't quite make out.

But Bucky still didn't move.

Steve remembered seeing the sad look on Dr. Banner's face as he crossed the room to talk to the Captain.

"I'm sorry, Steve, but he won't talk to me, either. Have you thought about having him committed?"

And Steve did think about that, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't drop his boyfriend off at some hospital, not knowing what they're doing to him inside.

So Bruce left, and Steve stood in silence watching his boyfriend lie in bed.

The past 4 days had been rough, and Steve didn't want to leave Bucky alone, especially not in his depressive state, but they were running low on necessities. They needed milk, toilet paper, bread, eggs and shaving cream.

So Steve went out to pick up groceries, leaving Bucky behind.

He wasn't expecting his day to go like this.

He thought he'd come back and find Bucky still in bed.

But what he came back to was the bathroom light shining brightly through the gap in the bathroom door.

Steve shrugged as he thought this was simply just another trip to the bathroom, but his worry grew the longer the bathroom door remained shut.

Eventually, he ran out of patience and strode over to the door, knocking lightly.

"Are you okay in there, Buck?

No answer.

"Bucky?"

No answer.

Steve's concern grew.

"I'm coming in." He announced before throwing open the door.

He wasn't expecting his day to go like this.

He wasn't expecting to see Bucky staring back at him, a look of fear in his eyes and a trail of blood pouring down his wrist and onto the cool tile floor beneath them.

Steve eyes shot quickly to the pair of scissors that sat in the sink, soaked in the red liquid.

"Oh Bucky…" Steve made his way forward to try and hug his boyfriend, but the other man moved backwards quickly.

"I'm sorry, Steve. I'm really sorry."

Steve hushed his boyfriend and guided him to sit on the edge of the bathtub.

"I don't know why I did it…"

"Shh, Bucky, it's alright. I need to clean this up though, okay?"

Bucky nodded and Steve sprang into action, grabbing gauze, rubbing alcohol and a cloth.

This wasn't the first time this had happened, and Steve always made sure to keep the supplies underneath the sink. He mentally cursed as he realized he must've not hidden the scissors well enough.

He got to work on Bucky's arm, as the raven-haired man just sat in silence, staring into space.

It only took a matter of minutes before Steve had Bucky's arm cleaned and wrapped up and began guiding the man to the couch in the living room.

"I don't want to talk about it." Bucky said.

"I know." Steve answered. "But we have to."

"I'm just feeling empty inside again."

Steve frowned. "Have you been taking your medication?"

Bucky shook his head. "I ran out last week."

"Bucky… You have to tell me when you're running low on pills."

Bucky looked down at his bandaged arm. "It felt good."

"What?"

"Cutting myself. It felt good."

"Please don't say that, Buck."

"But it's the truth. It feels good. It gives me control… It feels like a release."

"But you know you can't keep doing this, right? It's dangerous."

Bucky nodded as a tear slipped down his cheek. "Sometimes I can't control myself."

Steve grabbed Bucky and hugged him tightly. "I'm going to make you better."

Bucky smiled. "I love you."

"I love you too, Bucky."