LET MY GUARD DOWN (BUCKY BARNES)

3. THE MEETING

Though you had decided that Bucky would not control your life, you still were terrified of the chance that you may run into him in the city. The spring semester had ended, and you turned in your letter of resignation. You packed up your life once more, and trekked back across the country. But the thought never left your mind of what could happen if, when, you saw Bucky. While D.C. was a decently large city and the chances of seeing him should be slim to none, you were keenly aware that you had taken him to all of your favorite places. You had no idea if he still frequented them, if he had cut them out of his life the way he cut you out of his life or if he still visited them from time to time. And you weren't about to stop going to those places, but you couldn't get the idea out of your mind that you would get a cup of coffee and turn and see him standing a few feet behind you. You were terrified of that deer-caught-in-the-headlights look that you knew you would have. You were scared of that dry-mouth-stuffed-with-cotton feeling. Of not knowing what to say. Not knowing what to do.

But still, you persevered.

You made the move. You lugged all of the boxes up to your apartment—in a totally different building, far from the one where you once lived across the hall from Bucky. And you brought everything up all on your own. You would not accept a stranger's help. You would not daydream of that day you met Bucky. You would not think of the day that led to your inevitable heartache.

You unpacked everything, tried to clear mind of those months you had been trying to block out for so long.

Bucky Barnes would not control your thoughts.

Bucky Barnes would not plague your mind.

Bucky Barnes was a distant memory.

Bucky Barnes was still a person you couldn't rid your life of.

As much as you tried to rid him from your memories, you could never quite get him out of your mind. In a way, you supposed he was your one-that-got-away. He was the one thing you'd say you truly regretted. You believed that everything happened for a reason, that things happened so you could grow, that if you changed the past then you wouldn't be the same person you are today. But, you could never really stop yourself from thinking about if things had gone differently. If you hadn't let it slip that you loved him, or at least thought you loved him. If he hadn't rejected you so harshly. If something, anything, had been different.

But you had other things you had to do.

You had to tuck him back into the deepest corners of your mind.

You would not think of him more than was necessary.

After all, you had to buy new furniture and make the journey to the closest IKEA to the D.C. area.

You arrived at the store without much issue, except for cursing out incompetent drivers and ranting to yourself about the stupid layout of roads. You got yourself a buggy, and made your journey into the store that you weren't entirely sure you could find yourself out of.

It was a nice, mindless activity, if you were being honest. Having to pick out which shelving units would be the best for your needs was a good way to stop thinking about Bucky. Admiring the strange yet charming home decor grounded you in a weird sort of way. For the first time in a long time, Bucky was not plaguing your mind.

But life had a funny way of making sure that you never forgot that man.

As you were staring at different picture frames, you heard the quiet cursing of the man you never wanted to see or hear from again. You froze, trying to figure out what you should do. Do you turn? See what he's doing? Offer him help? Or do you ignore him? Pretend that you never heard him? Move about your shopping trip? Pray that you lose him in the confusing labyrinth that was IKEA?

But your curiosity got the better of you.

You turned, seeing him try to balance some boxes on his buggy. You cursed, too, before walking over and grabbing the other end of the boxes and restoring the balance on the cart. He looked up. Your eyes met. You wanted to run and hide. You wanted to put as much distance between the two of you that you could muster. Instead?

You said, "Hi, Bucky."

"Y/N?" he asked, his pretty blue eyes going wide, as though he couldn't even begin to fathom that you were right in front of him. As if he was scared that if he blinked, you would disappear. "I thought you moved."

"I did. Moved back," you said. "Got a job at the Smithsonian."

"Oh. That's great," he said. "I'm glad I got to see you. Did you...did you get my message?"

"I did."

"You never said anything back."

"Didn't think it warranted a response, Buck," you said. "You...you hurt me. And I didn't want you part of my life any longer. You don't just get to say I love you months after breaking my heart and expect that it would fix anything."

"No, no, I get that. I just hoped..." he sighed. "Listen, for whatever it's worth, I really am sorry."

"It's worth nothing."

He looked away, blinking quickly as if he was trying to make his tears less noticeable. But you saw. And as much as you hated to admit it, it did break your heart. As much as he hurt you, you didn't want to hurt him. But didn't he deserve it? You'd hardly did anything wrong. He broke your heart, and he was paying the consequences for it. You would not simply fall back into his arms.

Life was not a fairytale, no matter how much you wished it to be.

"I understand. It was...it was nice seeing you again."

"I wish I could say the same. Goodbye, Bucky."

And he finally said what you wished he had said all those months ago, what you wished he had said instead of just disappearing out of your life. "Goodbye, Y/N."