The man with the gloves [bucky barnes ff]

8

BUCKY'S POV

This girl from across the floor will be a much bigger problem than I thought. Yesterday wasn't the first time that I woke up in the middle of the night and broke stuff in anger and I am convinced that the neighbours have heard it multiple times before but they never checked up on me. And that was a good thing. They stayed out of my business so I never had to explain myself to anyone but when she knocked on my door last night I panicked and made up the worst lie.

I couldn't sleep through the night again. I don't know why I still get mad over it when it happens every night. Some are worse than others. Last night was one of those nights. I woke up in pain and anger and my initial reaction was to break something so I did. I took the beer bottle next to me and threw it against the wall, not thinking that anyone would care and bother asking me but apparently I was wrong. She seriously needs to learn to stay out of everyone's life. I don't know how things were from where she came from but here no one gives a shit about anyone and that's a good thing. No one wants you to care about you.

I almost forgot to put something over when she knocked on my door and accidentally almost opened the door with my metal arm showing. I am not sure if anyone ever recognised me yet. They probably did. My face and name spread around the news couple of years ago after all so I am sure that there are a few people who know who I am. That's why I decided to stay in New York though. I couldn't risk living in some small town and someone finding out about my past and then spreading the word.

I need to be unknown. Someone without a face, without a name, without a story. Just the weird guy next door, the customer who never talks and the man with the gloves. I don't need anyone to know more about me than necessary because even if they only know my last name that's enough to find out about everything I did.

I cleaned up the mess I made last night and put it all into a trash bag together will all the empty beer bottles. When I opened the door of my apartment to go downstairs and throw the trash out, the door in front of me opened almost at the same time.

The girl walked out with two trash bags in her hands, a cloth wrapped around her head and two yellow cleaning gloves. When she sees me her eyes immediately go to the bag I am holding.

"Is that trash?" She asks and points at it. I nod. "Great, put it in this one."

She puts one full garbage bag down and opens the other one who's not completely filled. "I didn't want to keep this one in the apartment because the chemicals from all the cleaning products stink."

I hesitate. She will think I am an alcoholic when she realises that the bag is filled with mostly beer and empty cigarette boxes.

"No, it's fine.", I decline.

"Sure? I don't mind it. I wanted to go downstairs anyway."

"Yes, it's fine." I close the door behind me and walk towards the elevators. I hear her say something under her breath which I don't quite understand though, and then close the door to her apartment as well.

As we wait for the elevator, we don't talk and just stand there in awkward silence. I can tell that she's thinking about how to start a conversation and unfortunately I am right.

"Any Saturday night plans?"

Probably getting drunk, smoking some cigarettes and eating the same take out I always eat.

"TV, maybe.", I simply answer instead and press the button to the first floor, the trash garbage still in my head and still avoiding eye contact with her.

"Cool.", she replies and looks down. She looks completely worn out and drained almost as if she's been cleaning for hours. I should probably clean my apartment as well but I don't have the products and definitely not the motivation for it. I could pay someone to do it but I don't want anyone to invade my personal space so that's also not an option.