Wrecked

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The exceptionally clouded sky was spreading chilly winds in the surroundings. At times, a flock of birds would fly by, chirping - reminding everyone that even in the darkest times, there is always hope. 'Hope' was something which cannot be given to someone, the person, themselves, need to have hope - hope in themselves - hope in their families.
However, hope was given to him - yet here he stood in the damp land, whacking his head for recalling. Memories don't necessarily emerge in his head out of nowhere; but this specific memory was painful, so painful. It was plaguing his mind like cancer. He had lost interest in everything - everything was doleful to him. He didn't care about living any longer, wondering if there was anything after people pass on, leaving their physical body behind. 
Picking up the pistol from the ground, he snaked his fingers around it as if it might disappear without his touch. His head pounded with questions, questions he knew he could never get answered - a part of him didn't need one. 
Glancing down at his metal arm, memories came flooding to him. Memories he hated admitting he had. Even the rain started to pour down at him like some damsel in distress. Raindrops cascading down his metal hand, he felt nothing...yet that moment reminded him of a painful past, an absurd incident. 


These days I'm becoming everything that I hate
Wishing you were around but now it's too late
My mind is a place that I can't escape your ghost


Nightmares were a serious problem for Bucky, although Sam was always there for him, he couldn't get over them, not precisely. The nightmares always chipped away a piece from his heart, a piece that Sam made sure to glue back in. There were terrible nights when both Sam and Bucky decided to stay together for mission purposes - nights when Bucky would wake up covered in a pool of sweat and his face as pale as chalk. A few days went by but Bucky was completely affirmative that he couldn't tell Sam. How would Sam feel? The world doesn't revolve around Bucky, Sam has his own problems to deal with and Bucky cannot-does not want to add on another problem to his pile of problems. Soon enough, Sam realised about Bucky's nightmares, it wasn't hard to guess. First there were purple bags under his eyes, then the sudden whisper-shrieks that echoed throughout the apartment at night, and then there was Bucky sleeping almost anywhere during the day. 

It didn't take long enough Sam to comprehend the problem that Bucky couldn't sleep at night due to nightmares, and what was worse was that he was suppressing his fears - something which will wreck him. 
The next night Bucky woke up in cold sweat, Sam was there. 
This cycle continued, up until both of them practically started sleeping together since it helped Bucky with the nightmares. 

But the nightmare that Bucky had that night was going to change everything. 

He woke up in cold sweat, Sam wasn't beside him. He tried calming himself down - recalling the breathing exercise his therapist and Sam had taught him. Tears were filling in his eyes, a chunk of his heart ripped away; he couldn't share his nightmare with Sam, not this one. 
Rubbing his hands violently together, Bucky managed to sit upright and notice that it was past ten, meaning Sam would be back from his run any time now. He had to calm himself down before Sam arrives, he cannot let Sam know what he saw.  He couldn't effort to lose him. 


Sometimes I wish that I could wish it all away, 
one more rainy day without you


Sam hadn't gone for the run today, it was streaming outside and Sam hated getting a cold. He was in the middle of making the breakfast when the sound of objects clattering on the ground dispatched his concentration and he rushed towards Bucky's room. As soon as he opened the door, he saw Bucky tumbling over objects that were once kept at the dressing table. His face was drenched in sweat and his jaw was quivering. 
Instinctively, Sam pulled Bucky back by his shoulders and sat on the bed beside him. 
"I - I'm s-sorry," Bucky managed to stutter through his heavy breaths.
"It was just a nightmare Buck, it's okay now." Sam said soothingly. 
He knew this nightmare was uncommon, Bucky had never been more petrified. There was something else laced behind his tone when he said the words, almost as if he meant them deeply. Sam knew he didn't, Bucky had never hurt Sam before - maybe it was just another nightmare where he did.
"It's okay Buck. You're okay, I'm okay...it's fine....breathe....feel my breathing," Sam retorts softly, pulling Bucky closer to his chest. He could feel Bucky dampening his tshirt with his warm tears. Sam carded through his hair, rubbing his back with his other hand. 
It did take a good few minutes for Bucky to calm down, but he eventually did and pulled away. 
"I'm sorry,"  Bucky repeated himself, feeling his heart hammering against his chest as if it was trapped within an endless void of guilt. 
"About what Bucky; you wanna tell me about your nightmare?" Sam asked, noticing that Bucky tensed instantly and started darting his eyes anywhere but at Sam. 

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