Guns and Ammunition [] TFATWS

Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty Eight:

"Have you ever been sleeping on your floor and suddenly think to yourself, 'I should get some furniture?'"

Bucky's gaze flickered to hers, ignoring the shouts from children playing at the park. They sat at a picnic table, positioned across from each other. The sky was overcast, sending a cool chill downward. Thunder rumbled in the distance, a few families packed up their belongings and headed elsewhere.

"Sometimes."

Josephine's eyes narrowed, "I think it's more than that."

"I find the floor quite comfortable."

"Yeah, I do too." She said, "When I'm having literally any crisis ever. The floor is most favourable during panic attacks. Not for napping or sleeping."

He seemed better today, less on edge and antsy. His hair was matted over his forehead, not bothering to style it in its usual fashion of poking up. Unlike his normal all black attire, he wore blue jeans with a light red hoodie.

"I have more furniture then what's up there." He said slowly, "I just don't want to move them."

Josephine raised a brow, "That makes zero sense whatsoever."

"When Steve, when he uh, left, he left me his apartment. It's been paid off and all that, something like a thanks from the government— but he gave it to me, my names on the lease now with his." He shrugged, picking at the table. His shoulders slumped, mind calculating his next words. "It's fully furnished, and he told me he wanted me to move in but I couldn't. It's his place, not mine. I can't take what I don't have either, I couldn't do that in case he were to— uh, incase he comes back."

She nodded slowly. The world was told Steve Rogers had died, gone with a hero's death in a battle that seemed outright insane. Bucky talked about him as if he was still somewhere, as if he was still alive. Maybe it was a way to cope, she had done that plenty of times— wondering where her sister would be if she was still here. Praying that they had gotten it wrong.

"Then we'll get you new stuff. Things that will be just yours." She watched him carefully, his eyes meeting her gaze yet again. "You can tie your own story to them."

"Maybe you will too."

She blinked, hiding the smile that tugged at her lips. Bucky shifted from his spot, turning his focus back to the now empty park. Another rumble of thunder sounded, sky lighting up above them in bright white.

"It's too quiet." He mumbled.

Josephine pursed her lips, gazing around. Other than the occasional blast of thunder, it was entirely silent. It seemed everyone in the neighbourhood decided to rush inside, get away before the rain fell down in sheets.

She stood up, shuffling from the table. "Come on." Her voice was loud, snapping him from whatever gaze he seemed stuck in. "Let's go somewhere else."

Bucky watched as she moved in front of him, holding a hand out. "Do your legs not work?"

He snorted, grasping her outstretched hand and pulling himself up. She always forgot how much taller he was, and even now his eyes staring down at her was just as intense as it always had been.

"They do." He said, a glint flickering in his eyes. Josephine felt her heart race, unsure of what to do as she felt his breath on her nose. Without another word he turned, taking off in a random direction. Her eyes widened, rushing after him. He walked swiftly, not making a single sound. He was like a shadow, moving across the earth in silence, leaving no trace.

Night was settling in across the city, accompanied by another belt of thunder and a few drops of rain. Josephine matched his quick strides, "Where to now?"

"Home." He glanced over at her, "I should try to sleep."

"You're not going to sleep."

He wasn't. He was going to lock himself in his apartment, sit on the floor in the dark and stare at the ceiling until his thoughts dragged him under, only for them to rip him back into reality.

They weren't far from their apartment, yet by the time they both slipped through the front doors, the light droplets of rain had turned into a downpour. Bucky took the stairs two at a time, watching as she struggled to catch up with him. He moved quickly when he wanted, every turn graced with unnatural ease. It was odd seeing move like that, matched with his fogged mind and awkwardness that peaked through.

"I will." He said, pausing at his front door. "Go to sleep, I mean. They gotta stop at some point, right?"

Yes, they do, but the nightmares always come back. They never truly go away, not forever.

"Wait here." She told him, spinning around and rushing to her own door. Her keys were in her hand in no time, fighting with the knob, the door quickly opened. Josephine stepped in, walking through her living room and into her bedroom. A small CD player sat on the floor in the corner. She unplugged the device and carefully picked it up, a few new cracks visible in the grey plastic. It had been a Christmas gift from her father when she was little, a relic she never wanted to lose.

Bucky was still waiting at his door, eyes meeting hers as she stopped in front of him, holding out the player. He raised a brow, accepting it nonetheless.

"Thank you?"

"It's for the nightmares." She spoke quickly, "When you wake up and all you can feel is panic. When it happens to me I turn it on and sit up, focusing on the words helps calm me down. It sounds stupid, I know, but I've been doing it since I was a kid and it has helped, so... I don't know."

He pursed his lips, holding it to his chest. "Thank you."

Josephine gave a small smile, "Goodnight, Bucky. Keep it safe for me, alright?"

The man remained quiet, watching as her soft smile disappeared through the door on the left. The player felt heavy in his hands, but the image of Josephine in his mind eased the tension as he gave one last look at her closed door and moved through his own.