The one forgiven sin 《Sambucky》

00.27

I've fallen in love with an angel

and I'm a fucking demon.

Grey walls. A long hum behind him. His curtains were open. Or maybe closed. He didn't care, anyways. And opening his eyes were too bothersome.

He couldn't remember the last time he ate, as well as how he came to his apartment. 

He was lying on the bed, and he felt Sam's presence behind him, Sam's hand laid close to his hipbone, and if he wiggled enough, they'd be touching. But moving sounded so exhausting, so he stayed where he was. 

Tiredly starring at the ceiling.

Only breathing.

Blue tired eyes starred at the ceiling, blink once, twice. Close, a deep breath. A second one, but even breathing seemed way too tiring. So, he just blinked, and let his body breathe when it needed to.

His ears were ringing, and he felt cold again, but reaching out to cover himself up with a blanket was too much effort.

Why bother?

Why would he bother to do anything at all?

He yesterday visited the last one, but nothing had changed. In fact, he felt more than a monster than ever.

Almost everyone had cried once he told him of his doings as the Winter Soldier. Some cursed him out, some told him to go to hell. Would that make them really happy, he wondered. 

He hoped his victims made it to heaven. He doubted there was any heaven, but if there was, then he would hope they are there. Just like his Ma, and his sister, Natalia, Peggy and one day Sam and Steve and Sarah.  He wouldn't end there, he knew exactly where he would meet his fate.

Downstairs, where garbagge like him belonged.

There was one man yesterday that straight up punched him across his face. He still could feel the bruise forming across his face, but he really didn't care about that.

He deserved it.

He took someone away that man had loved.

And that knowledge hurt more than any hit he ever had to take.

From all the things he had to live trough, from the beatings to the disgusting chair...

...to the whipping...

...to the weapons they used to make him bleed...

...to the memories that made him sob and despise touch...

...nothing hurt as much as the innocent lives he had taken.

He hadn't noticed, but salty tears once again flowed down his face, wetting his bedsheets.

Why he was lying on bed, he didn't know.  But if he were to guess, it surely had to do with the man snoring beside him.

His head whipped into Sam's direction and he starred at those long lashes throwing shadows at high cheekbones. 

This nice man lying in his bed. 

This nice man worrying about him.

This nice man smiling at him as if he wasn't the devil himself.

He didn't deserve Sam. He didn't deserve to live in the first place, but most of all, he didn't deserve someone as pure as Sam.

He didn't know how or when, but suddenly he found himself on his two feet, in the bathroom, one of his favorite knifes clutched in his metal hand. A red liquid he was quite familiar with was travelling down his bare legs. 

When he had stripped off his sweatpants, he didn't know.

In some sort of trance he watched tiny little droplets hit the floor, making no noise at all.

He didn't hear the approaching footsteps of the man he managed to fall in love with. In fact, he was so out of it, he coudn't feel the warm palm on his shoulders, forcefully trurning him around to face a distressed Sam. The ringing in his ears got louder, deafening him, eary silence exept for this aweful ringing. Sam's lips were moving, but he couldn't hear a word he said.

He was getting shaked, first gently, but everytime, it got a little more forceful. And then, a voice so soft, it must be from angels themselves, reached out to him.

"-nap out of it, sugar. Good boy, lay down, yeah? One breathe after another. Good boy. You are doing so good." One second, Sam was hovering over him, the next, he was gone again.

"I'm gonna touch you, yeah? I'll only bandage those, yeah? You can always stop me, though."

Only to return with a first aid kid. Gentle hands started disinfecting, bandaging his wounds humming a song Bucky couldn't detect. Sam was so careful, gentle warm fingertips wrapping all kind of bandages around his thighs.

His body started rocking as he started crying again. 

How did he deserve Sam?

Simple. He didn't.

"Stop, Sam." He cried out, trying to curl in on himself. The hands immediately stopped, and Bucky felt some kind of loss of the touch. "They are gonna heal anyways."

"No-ho-ho! That ain't gonna work!" Massive hands grabbed his upper arms, hauling him into a sitting position. Brown hard eyes fixated on exhhausted moist and scared blue ones, and Bucky wanted to sob, to scream, to trash on those arms, but he didn't. Only starred back.

"You ain't gonna do those again, Bucky. You ain't bulletproof, I don't care how fast you heal. You said you wanted to learn to love yourself, this ain't the way to do so. You hear me?" Sam waited till he nodded to go on.

"Whenever you feel the need to hurt yourself that way is the moment you come to me. No matter the time, no matter where. You. Come. And. Get. Me. Clear?"

Another nod, filled with tears and heartbreak.

"Why did you do it?" Sam asked him, his voice way softer than seconds ago.

"I... I hurt all those people, so I-"

"'Felt like I needed to punish myself?'" Sam asked, leaving Bucky speechless.

Because yes, this was his reason.

"You aren't gonna do this again. I won't let you. I love you too much to let you do that to yourself. Now, you want sweatpants?"

Sam reminded him that he was, still, in fact half naked, and he became shy once again...

...totally disregarding Sam telling him he loved him...

A/N: Did someone say four chapters a day? That totally emotionally wrecked all of you? YES, PLEASE😫😫😫😫