The one forgiven sin 《Sambucky》

00.09

You promised me.

And then you broke that promise.

▪□▪□▪□▪
Please don't leave me
Please don't leave me
Please don't leave me
Please don't leave me
Please don't leave me
Please don't leave me
▪□▪□▪□▪

He didn't know. Well, he didn't know till recently. He thought Steve would never do this. He thought his friend was nice enough to stay for him.

He should have known better.

He shouldn't have expected too much.

And now, here he stood. A tiredness making his bones ache with exhaustion a good night sleep could never cure. Not that he ever got a good sleep.

Ahh, there he comes.
Steven Grant Rogers.
The man who made a change.
The man who proved everyone wrong.
The man Bucky used to love.

Bucky is 1000% sure he had loved him, a thousand years ago, in ways words would never life up to, never would be able to describe. But now?

He felt nothing but crippling fear. The only somewhat stability was leaving him, leaving him in a time he doesn't belong to. In a world where aliens exist, cats eat glowing stones, and he was a man with hundred victims on top of his shoulders.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he wrapped his arms around him, hearing Steve's heartbeat resounding in his head. He prayed for the gods to take him, too.

But this wasn't about him. It was about Steve, and Steve deserved a happy ending.

One that did not involve him.

"Don't do anything stupid until I come back." Steve said softly, but to his ears, it sounded stern. Firm. Final.

"How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you." He meekly replied, his stone cold eyes filling with unshed tears. This was it. All he ever knew was leaving him.

He took a shuddering breath as a presence near him made him turn around. There he was. Sam Wilson in all his glory, a cheerful expression on his face. Sam hand the blessing of being in the unknown. He didn't know what Steve was planning. Bucky wished to be like him.

The whirring sounds of the machine made Bucky turn around, and he met Steve's eyes. The blond smiled, and a century ago, that smile would have been enough for Bucky to calm down. Now, all he felt was dread. He wished he could try to get into Winter Soldier mode just to stop all the pain as he watched Steve vanish. The man was gone. Taking Bucky's last memories, as well as his heart.

As Sam walked away to recive the shield Bucky would never be worthy of holding, he turned on his heels and left, never in his life craving a hug more than in this one moment.

•□•□•□•

His apartment was dull, grey walls, only nessecarry furniture, and a dark atmosphere surrounding him, suffocating him. He stood in the middle of his living room, haunted memories swiping across his closed eyelids. Memories he doesn't want to posses. Memories forced upon him.

His hands started shaking, sweat clouding his forehead as he thought of all the things he did. All the things they made him do.

A deep breath. Hold it.
Followed by another. Hold it in, just as he did back in the days. Where he was human. A man with emotions.

A man worthy of love.

A feral cry ripped out of his throat as he collapsed, his burdens too heavy for his massive, broad shoulders. A metal hand swiped across the table in the corner, sending all his belongings to the ground. A punch was quickly, but effectifely delivered to a poor innocent chair, standing in the corner. It crumbled like dust, just as he did a few years prior.

His baby blue eyes filled with tears as the havoc he called his emotions swept on top of him like a wave, ready to drown him. His knees buckled, sending him onto the floor, near his belongings. A sharp metal color caught his attention, and slowly, he fixated his eyes on the object.

His shoulders shacking, his head hanging, he clumsily searched for the one thing that could give him the one thing he was searching for. The one thing that could give him peace.

The gun was a familiar weight in his hand, and its cold was sending shivers down his back as he pressed it against his temple. 

He closed his eyes.

Only to open them back up again as he heard paper crinkling thanks to the wind softly blowing through his window.

There it laid. The only thing a rememberance for Bucky that Steve Rogers was an actual person, and not a product of his fucked up imagination.

His notebook.
Steven Grant Rogers' own fucking personal notebook, laying spread eagle on his floor, the first pages on display for Bucky. 

Even good a few feet apart, Bucky could still make out Steve's ugly ass handwriting. He thought back to the day Steve had given him the notebook. It was the day they had killed Thanos. His eyes were pained, and his smile wobbly. It was the day Bucky realized.

He wasn't worth staying.

Bucky had been starring at the notebook for at least ten minutes but then he quickly reached across the floor, dragging a pencil close to his chest. With the other, he held the notebook, Steve's cursive handwriting now clearer for Bucky to read.

Book titles, movie titles, song recommendations, all of that scribbled across the pages in such an ugly handwriting, Bucky might have cried.

Those were all the things Steve had to do in a time where he didn't belong to.
The things holding him back.

Bucky might as well should try doing the same thing, right?

So, he leaned forward, his knees bend as he wrote name after name after name.

All his victims carefully written in clear letters is what met his eyes, and he swallowed hard. Because the only thing that was holding him back was the heavy guilt laid across his heart.

A/N: Next chapters will follow the tfatws episodes, including Sam turning into Captain America, Bucky finding himself again, and both boys falling in love.

Thanks for all the support, lovelies!<3