Flashlight
Chapter ten
Leaning with your shoulder against the doorframe, a cup of tea in your hand, you stared down at the sleeping figure in your bed. There was an utter silence in the apartment, only broken by his occasional snores. It felt peaceful. You couldn't deny that the calm that hung in the air now wasn't thoroughly enjoyable. After the sleepless night you'd had, the long day at work and the messy and hectic evening, it was exactly what you needed. Glancing at the clock, you saw that it was almost eleven and you could only hope that Bucky would sleep through the night. He definitely seemed in need of a proper rest.
Once his tears had dried and the panic he felt had ebbed away, exhaustion had taken over him. His eyelids began drooping and his responses to your babbling had gotten almost nonexistent. Both of you knew it would happen. Even though he had always tried to hide the effects of a panic attack from you, now and in the past, the exhaustion was a part that was quite apparent. Especially when you live together.
Eventually you told him to lay down, take the bed. It took quite some persuading, and you also offered to drive him home if he was too uncomfortable, but in the end he accepted the offer. The idea had been that he would take a nap, after which the planned conversation would commence. It wasn't ideal, but he was still adamant to give you the answers you needed and according to him, also deserved.
When he first laid down, he appeared to be more tense than ever. You wondered if that was about you or the room that he was in. More than likely it was both. After all your bedroom had been the one that the two of you had shared for years. Despite the changes in furniture (you had thrown all of it out when you realised he would not be coming back to you), it must have been incredibly strange to him.
After some time though, sleep finally took over, pulling on his consciousness. He had settled in, gripping your pillow tightly as the stress finally - albeit slowly - left his body. He was completely worn down, the crease in his brow a tell-tale sign of that. He laid on his right side, avoiding his left and you wondered if he had ever slept with his prosthetic attached. He hadn't been willing to take it off in front of you and you had not wanted to push him on the subject. After all it was supposed to be a small nap only.
Of course, that nap had started nearly four hours ago and when he had not woken from his alarm, you had decided to let him sleep. He obviously needed it and you were not going to get the conversation you wanted to have anyway. You wanted him to be better rested for that possibly strained, awkward and most definitely tense discussion.
He trashed around in the bed, mumbling in pain and it had woken you up with a start. Sitting up quickly you began to shake him gently, wanting to wake him from his dream. Or nightmare more likely. When shaking proved not to do the job, you proceeded to talk to him and pressed a hand to his chest. Instead of waking him, however, this only seemed to anger him. He sat up, his right arm striking instantly and hitting target. Falling to the side with a gasp, you brought a shaking hand to your stinging cheek.
The soft sound from your mouth finally brought him out of his state and he silently stared at you and then at his hand. Tears began to fall from his eyes as the shock of what he had done set in, his fist clenching and unclenching repeatedly. Without hesitation you scooted closer, moving awkwardly through the tangle of sheets and placed a hand on his cheek. Your thumb moved to wipe away the rapidly falling tears as you sat in front of him on your knees. Placing a kiss on his forehead, you made an effort to ignore the pain in your cheek and comfort him instead. He would already feel guilt coursing through him, you did not need to add to it. He had not meant to hurt you, you were certain of that, and you wanted nothing more than to relieve him of the still growing guilt in his heart.
"You're safe," you whispered, wrapping your arms around his torso and pulling him in close. He was rigid, tense, as a choked sob left his throat.
"Are you?" He asked in a small voice and the tone of it broke your heart. The guilt was already taking a hold on him, pulling him down. You pulled him even closer, ensuring him that everything was okay and that both of you were indeed safe.
When he finally fell asleep again it was much later and he had his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. His head was on your chest, listening to your heartbeat.
Watching him sleep brought back so many memories, mostly good ones. It reminded you that he used to fall asleep to the rhythm of your heartbeat, the sound would calm him down almost instantly, and you wondered just what helped him sleep since he had left you all that time ago.
Your phone buzzed, effectively ending the reminiscing and you stepped out of the room. You worried that any sound could wake him up from his seemingly peaceful slumber and that was the last thing you wanted. When you entered the living room you finally took the phone from your back pocket and unlocked the screen.
'Everything okay?' The text from Sam read and you smiled.
As soon as Bucky had fallen asleep, you had called Sam. In your opinion, he was the obvious choice to call for advice, since he had started working for the department of veterans affairs six months ago. At the time he had been less than happy in the job that Steve has gotten him when he had first moved to town. Instead he now counselled other veterans and it was a match made in heaven. Though you called him to ask for help, you mostly wanted him to tell you that you had done right by Bucky. You needed to know if there was anything that you had done wrong or what you could do better.
Sam had spent the better part of your thirty minute conversation soothing your fears, before telling you that only Bucky could tell you exactly what he needed. Though, he assured you, you must have done well. After all, Bucky had lowered his barriers when he had hugged you close, allowing you to see his grief and his fears. And again when he had agreed to some shuteye. Both of which showed that he was willing to be vulnerable with you. If anything got to you, it was that. At least he still trusted you to have his back. And you would not disappoint.
When the heavy dread that filled your heart finally settled a little, Sam had offered to come over but you had declined. Grateful as you were for his help and never-ending kindness, you decided that it might be better if you were the only one around when Bucky woke up from his 'nap'. The last thing you wanted was for Bucky to feel ambushed when he opened his eyes, whenever that would be. He wouldn't be expecting there to be anyone other than you and it felt wrong to push someone into his personal space so close to an attack. Sam agreed, but only after you promised to call him if you needed anything at all.
Sleep was hard to come by on the couch, the springs inside the cushions a little too hard to get comfortable, but it did not bother you too much. You were far too worried about Bucky to get much rest anyway. Instead you got up early, giving up on trying and made yourself some tea. You glanced at the screen of your phone, five o'clock again. You watched the first rays of sunlight reaching the window and leaned against the kitchen counter with s soft sigh. At least you got to watch the sun rise above the buildings, it really was a beautiful sight.
A grunt coming from the bedroom shocked you, nearly prompting you to drop the mug in your hand. Immediately, you tensed and moved towards the origin of the sound. The door was ajar and you pushed it open fully, glancing inside. Nothing seemed out of place upon the first look and yet… Bucky's breathing was still calm enough as he laid on his back, the bed a mess underneath him.
Still, instinct told you that something had changed. There was a clear shift in the air and your shoulders tensed even more, even though you couldn't figure out what happened.
Another grunt made you look back at his face and you noticed some irregularities in his breathing now. His arm was twitching as his hand grasped at the sheets underneath it, his legs moving restlessly. Your pillow was no longer in his grip, instead it lay at the foot of the bed, clearly tossed away. Stepping around the bed quietly, you moved closer to him and placed a hand on his cheek. The move so familiar, your go-to move whenever he had been restless as a teenager and later as a soldier.
"Bucky, wake up," you said loud, your voice stern. More so than you had intended. His movements intensified momentarily, his fist that had been gripping the sheets now pulling at them, while his legs began to fight the blankets that limited his moments as they were pulled tighter in the tangle his sleeping self had created.
"Wake up, Bucky! Please, open those eyes, you're safe here," you spoke again, your tone much softer now and more gentle. The hand you had placed on his cheek earlier now gently caressing him, hoping that it would ground him back into reality. He startled you by sitting up abruptly, stalling the flailing movements in his restless limbs.
However, just when you thought it meant that he was waking up, a scream erupted from his throat. The sound filled with pain and fear. It made tears spring to your eyes. You moved from your squatting stance next to the bed, sitting on the edge of it instead and pulled him into a hug once again. You could only hope it would have the same effect on him as it had last night. With your mouth close to his ear, you repeated that he was safe over and over again, your voice a mere whisper now.
"I'm so sorry, Y/N," Bucky choked out and you wrapped your arms even tighter around him, placing a kiss on his cheek. He wasn't pushing you away, though he did not hug you back either. Still you were reluctant to let go.
"For what?" You wondered confused, pulling back slightly to look at him.
"This, all of it," he whispered, struggling to get the words out and unable to meet your eyes. Shushing him, you rocked him back and forth in your arms, telling him that everything was okay.
A big part of you wanted to comfort him, ignore the meaning behind his words, but you knew that wouldn't help either of you. At some point it would need to be addressed, as did many other things. There was so much baggage between the two of you and if he stayed, which you hoped he would, it would need to be resolved. At least if you wanted to keep the awkwardness in your group of friends to a minimum, something you were certain both of you wanted.
Upon hearing your own stomach growl you realised that he must need some sustenance as well and send him to the bathroom to freshen up, while you went to the kitchen to make some breakfast. And as you busied yourself, you waited impatiently for him to come join you, so you could address the words he had spoken.
"What did you mean exactly?" You asked, needing the clarification.
Bucky stared at his plate, chewing the small bite that he had taken for a suspiciously long time. You knew you shouldn't push him too much, but his evasion tactics were laugh inducing. They always had been, especially when you were younger. Still, you swallowed the sound and waited for him to talk, he couldn't avoid it forever.
"For being who I am," he whispered once he swallowed his food. He hadn't asked you to be more specific, he had obviously known what you meant.
"And what is that exactly?" You pressed gently, your voice soft and your face as blank as you could manage. You knew you had to tread lightly here, even though everything inside you was screaming to push him for answers.
"Broken, weak."
His answer shocked you, even though you should have seen it coming.
"What?" You exclaimed a little too loudly as anger took over you. He winced and you regretted your outburst immediately. Here he was opening up and you nearly cut it short again. You weren't even angry at him, just at the situation. That this was how he felt this way, shocked and confused you. Of all the things he was, those words certainly didn't seem to fit in your opinion.
Had the war damaged him? Surely, but it hadn't broken him. After all he was still fighting, that told you that he wasn't giving up. Broken people didn't do that, right? Certainly not weak people.
"Sorry for that," you offered with a deep breath to steady yourself, "But Bucky, you have to know, the last thing you are is weak."
It was mind boggling to you that he could not see what you saw. He was so strong and brave. Far from perfect too, but that didn't matter now. Of course, he should not have ran away, but he came back and seemed willing to face the problems he had left behind or created. That was something. Perhaps it meant that he was finally ready to work on the things that were holding him back, the things that had made him run in the first place. Now you just needed to show him that he's not a lost cause, that you and your friends are still there for him.
Bucky scoffed at your words, turning his eyes away from you. You sighed, wondering how you would be able to get through to him. There was so much that you wanted to ask him, talk to him about. But he clearly wasn't ready and you wondered if and when he would be.
"Buck, I'm serious," you tried, moving closer and placing a hand over his own, "I get that you don't feel it right now, but you are strong."
He wouldn't look at you, staring at your joined hands instead. You had to force yourself not to hug him close again. You couldn't be sure he wanted you too.
"After everything, all you've been through…" you stopped talking for a moment, unsure how to shake the sentence you wanted to share with him, "You're surviving. That takes strength. Don't tell yourself that it doesn't and definitely don't give it up. Let me help you. Let us all help you."
"Why would any of you do that?" His voice broke as he uttered those words and your eyes were burning again, tears threatening to spill.
"Because we care"
"But I left"
"I know, I was there." You scoffed, a stabbing pain shooting through you at the reminder of his departure, "Look Bucky, I'm not saying it'll be smooth sailing, but we care, all of us. And we worry. That doesn't change just because you pushed us away,"
A tear slipped from your eyes as Bucky still avoided looking at you. You choked out an exasperated laugh and squeezed his hand gently. At some point he would just have to accept that you weren't going anywhere. Neither were the rest of his friends. You just wished this realisation would hit him sooner rather than later.
A/N:As i've mentioned before, the next few chapters still need a lot of work. At the same time my health has taken a bit of turn, which takes up a lot of my energy. This means I can't make any promises of when the next chapter will be out, but I will try to update once a week.
Another huge thank you to the wonderful beanstalk007 for helping me with this story!
And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!
