Flashlight
Chapter seven
Waking up the morning after the wedding was hard. The drinking of too much alcohol had resulted in a pounding head, while dancing in high heels had created an ache all over your body.
Groaning, you blinked your eyes open, only to quickly shut them again, raising your hand to help shield your eyes from the protruding light that spilled into the room. There wasn't much of it with the curtains still firmly closed, but the small slivers of sunshine that managed to push past those curtain were enough to burn.
Your mind was groggy, your mouth dry. This was definitely worse than you had ever experienced before and a part of you wanted to reach out to the glass on your nightstand. However, since that required moving your aching head, you refrained from doing so. Choosing instead to bury your face further into your pillow, pulling the blankets higher over your form.
It wasn't long before sleep pulled you back into its warm embrace, saving you from the harsh realities of day and instead allowing you to bask in the ignorance of dreams a little longer. Proving that ignorance truly was bliss, for the life in your dreams wasn't a complicated, painful ordeal. It was simple and calm and beautiful.
In your dreams, Bucky never left. In your dreams, his last deployment had not changed your lives so drastically as it had in real life. For in your dreams, he had not been physically injured, walking away from the wreckage like some comic book hero. Returning home with a new outlook on life, as only a near death experience could provide. He wrapped you in his strong arms and vowed to never let you go. There was no ptsd, no prosthetic arm, nothing to make him doubt everything he ever thought or felt.
You even dreamed of the wedding you had planned but never got to experience. Of the dress you had been eager to wear, but had returned to the store long after he left. The sight of it only causing you grief.
You dreamed of his short cropped hair, a consequence of the army, brushed neatly to the side as he messed with the tie that he wasn't used to wearing. And his dazzling blue eyes, accentuated by the deep blue of his suit. In your dreams, he loved you. And he stayed.
Leaving the dreamworld behind was beyond excruciating. It was tearing at your insides, beating on your heart until it nearly stopped, only for it to increase so rapidly that it was almost beating out of your chest. Waking up the second time that day, broke your heart and crushed your soul in a whole new way. Perhaps the wedding had been weighing more heavily on your mind than you had initially thought.
Tears streamed down your cheeks when you finally sat upon your bed, pulling yourself fully from the agonising slumber. Your head still pounding, though it was overpowered by the pain in your heart and you suppressed a scream that threatened to spill from your lips, agony trying to force itself from your body in a horrifying shriek. The sound instead came out a torturous moan that tore at your throat, rasping it as if you had indeed been screaming at the top of your lungs.
Eventually, you calmed enough to take the glass of water from your bedside table, swallowing half of it down quickly in an attempt to sooth your throat. Opening the top drawer of the nightstand and pulling out two painkillers, you downed them with the remaining water.
You then untangled yourself from the blankets that covered you, you swung your feet over the edge of the bed and placing them firmly on the ground. You could only hope that they would carry you as you got up carefully. Standing still momentarily with a hand on the headboard, allowing yourself time to steady before moving towards the bathroom in small decisive steps. In no time at all, you stepped underneath the stream of water. It was yet to warm up completely, the cold effectively waking you up.
The cold of the tiles soothed your aching head as you pressed your forehead against it and the steam that clogged up the room did the rest. You took a long time, standing under that warm stream, letting the water wash over you, cascading over your strained muscles. By the time you got out, your fingers were wrinkled, but you felt much better. You took a deep breath and began to get ready for the rest of the day.
Brushing your hair in front of the large mirror in your bathroom, you realised that you were yet to check on the time. Brush still in hand as you moved to the bedroom, you were shocked that the clock read 12:45. Picking up your phone to double check, you saw that the battery had died somewhere during the night.
Plugging it in quickly before moving towards the pitching, you could hear it ping and buzz repeatedly. Though it almost pulled you back, you decided to get something to eat first. Four glasses of water and one sandwich later, you went back to your bedroom to finally check your messages.
The first message you opened happened to be from Clint and Natasha in the group chat, thanking all of you for what you had done in making their wedding day so special. Next were a few pictures from Sam, taken as everyone was dancing. Most of them a little blurry, but overall a nice representation of the fun that was shared. You could barely wait for the professional photos.
What followed were similar messages from Maria, Steve and Wanda, all asking if you were okay. For a moment you wondered if you had said something in your drunken stupor to make them worry but nothing came to mind. It wasn't as if you had been black out drunk. You liked keeping some semblance of control after all.
Wanda had sent a few more messages, obviously getting antsy because of your silence. She also left a voicemail. And as you entered the code to listen to it, you moved towards your closet and pulled on some leggings and an oversized shirt. As you got dressed, Wanda's voice rang clear through your room, concern heavy in her tone.
"Y/N, where are you? Haven't heard from you. Are you okay? Are you home? Please be home!"
The message went on, but the incessant knocking on your front-door kept you from hearing more. Turning it off, you stepped out of your room and walked towards the sound. Frowning you removed the locks and opened it. You were struck by the fretful body language of your auburn haired friend, a stark contrast to you own calm.
"Hi Wanda," you smiled, stepping aside to let her in. She hurriedly brushed passed you, dropping her purse on the floor next to the couch, handing her coat over the armrest. She then turned to look at you, her brows furrowed as she looked you over. Stepping closer to you, she placed her hands on your upper arms, rubbing them up and down, keeping her gaze on you. Concern was clear on her features. You raised a single eyebrow as you stared back at her, wondering where that concern originated from.
"Do you want to talk?" She asked gently, guiding you over to the couch with a hand on your back. You followed easily, sitting down with your feet tucked under you.
"Always, about what exactly though?" You finally asked as she too settled into the couch and she sighed deeply.
"Whatever brought you to tears last night…"her hand covered your own and you looked down at the kind gesture, letting the memories from last night wash over you. You hadn't forgotten, simply ignored them until now.
"Well, they did flow freely throughout the day, you've got to be more specific," you tried to joke, though you knew very well what she was talking about.
"Well, let's start at the beginning; your dance," she said, straight to the point and ignoring your weak attempt at humour. You sucked in a breath as the memory of your dance with Bucky played itself out in your mind. It was a nice memory.
You shrugged, trying to play it off as you recounted the few words that had been spoken. The confession that you missed him, followed by his hesitation and admission that he was no longer the same person.
Wanda pressed a hand over her heart as she watched your face fall at the end. She knew how you felt, even without you telling her explicitly. Wanda always seemed to know how people were feeling. She was highly intuitive, with enough empathy to save humanity, you thought to yourself.
Though her life had not been easy, she still was so kind, gentle. It warmed your heart that the harsh realities of her life had not hardened her. She was incredibly strong, and resilient. Strong willed as well, you thought to yourself with a smile as you looked at your unrelenting friend. She was too stubborn to let the conversation go, you knew this.
"And later, after we waved them off?" Wanda pressed, referring to the end of the evening when all the guests had gathered to wave goodbye to the happy couple as they stepped into a cab. To them, nothing had seemed off. You had hugged your friends tightly, wearing an exhaustingly bright smile on your face as you did so. It had remained on your face as you waved enthusiastically as the bar followed the driveway and rounded the corner, turning onto the road again and disappearing from sight.
As soon as the car had left, the tears you had been so bravely holding back, spilled and you had walked away from the large crowd. Maria and Wanda had probably seen everyone off, while you had walked back to the lake, sitting on a bench and looking out over the water as the tears kept falling. As you thought back to it, you realised that the pounding headache from this morning could have been from crying.
You couldn't remember how long you sat there, but if Steve had not come to get you, you probably wouldn't have left that spot. Allowing him to drive you home, you had ignored his inquiring glances and prodding questions. You hadn't said a word. Not ready to tell anyone about the things you were feeling, the pain that sat heavily in your chest.
Now as you watched Wanda sitting next to you, looking at you expectantly, you wondered if you were ready now. Though, you thought, talking to her was perhaps slightly easier and less complicated than talking to Steve would have been.
Another breath sucked in harshly, holding it for a moment before slowly breathing out, you picked at the chipped nail polish on Wanda's fingers. Seeing the whole scene unfold before your mind's eye, you tried to figure out where to start.
Fuelled by the alcohol in your system, you had followed after Bucky when he snuck out of the party late that evening. Emboldened as you were by the feelings that had erupted during your dance together and ignorant of his retreating back after you had told him that you missed him.
Watching as he walked over to a bench by the water you gave him a few moments of solace before joining him. Stood behind the bench on the opposite end of where he was sitting, you remained silent. He looked up, seemingly unsurprised by your presence.
"I'm fine," he said, "Just needed a breather. You can go back inside." His voice was soft and his eyes stayed trained on the water.
"Are you sure?" You asked, moving around the bench, plopping down unceremoniously. Though you tried to sit up straight, you could feel your intoxicated body slump against the wooden seat.
"It got a little loud for me, no biggie," he brushed off your concern and you turned to look at him, sensing there was more to it. No matter how much time had passed, you still knew him like the back of your hand.
"Talk to me," you whispered and placed a hand on his arm. His prosthetic. Which he hardly pulled away from you. You frowned as his rejection stung you, pulling your hand back into your chest and cradling it as if burned by the action.
"Is that it?" You wondered, your voice a little too shrill for your liking. You had wanted to be more calm.
"What?"
"Your arm. Is that why you left me?" You managed to get the sentence out without spilling the sob that was building in your chest.
"No. Yes," He nearly shouted out the words, before taking a deep breath, "Y/n, please. Let's not talk about this. Not here," he pleaded and you felt a tear slip from your eye, wiping at it harshly before turning your head to look at him.
"Well we could've had this talk sooner if you had not disappeared on me," your tone was accusing and slightly more cruel than you had intended. still, it was true.
"That's not fair," Bucky sighed, leaning forward, his prosthetic arm on his leg while his flesh hand covered his face.
"None of it was fair, Bucky, but I just wanted to help you," your voice pleading once again.
You just wanted him to hear you, to understand. You would have stood by him. Things had been far from perfect, obviously, and there was lots that you had yet to learn, growing to be done, but you had always been willing to do that.
"And I needed to do it alone," he said as he turned his head to look at you, the pain in his eyes evident.
"So, how'd that work out for you," you scoffed and he inhaled loudly, obviously fighting words that were threatening to fall from his mouth.
That was the moment that Maria found the two of you, telling you that it was time to say goodbye to the happy couple. She had noticed the tension, took a moment to assess that you were both okay enough to actually say your goodbyes to Clint and Natasha, before walking ahead of you.
Bucky never answered and you stood, brushing a hand over your face and plastering a fake smile onto it, hoping it was enough to fool the couple. They didn't need to be worrying about you on their wedding night.
You looked at Wanda, seeing her face as you finished your recount. It fell and in the blink of an eye you were pulled into a tight hug. Tears spilled again as you hugged her back just as tightly, holding onto her for dear life.
She held you until you had calmed down, pulling back to look you in the eyes. Her hands moved to brush the hair from your face, wiping at your tear streaked cheeks. She offered you a kind smile.
"You'll have to finish that conversation," she stated and you nodded, she was right. And since he never specified how long he would be in town, you knew you needed to act fast.
A/n: Thanks to everyone that is reading this story! Love seeing those views go up every time.
And another thank you to beanstalk007 on tumblr for proofreading this chapter.
