Is the truth better then a dare

What's going on is his head

Sam couldn't think straight, since the incident.

He was so confused. He wanted to know what happened to Bucky that got him in that state.

But he also felt awful for the guy. He had never seen someone so scared before, he had never seen a panic attack that bad before.

He was scarred with that picture of Bucky helplessly stumbling into his room, with the most terrified look on his face.

He honestly didn't want to let Bucky go, but he knew Bucky was going to close himself off, as he usually did.

He really hoped Bucky would tell Steve, but by the looks of how many times Steve asked him if he was ok, he definitely wasn't telling him.

Sam had been worried about Bucky since that night. He didn't know if that was going to happen again, had it happened before? Has he been keeping it from everyone? What if it happened again and no one was there to help him?

Sam's brain filled with overwhelming questions. Questions he knew he couldn't speak to Bucky about.

But he knew that was never happening especially since Bucky had started being nasty to Sam again. Sam didn't do anything in response, as he was so done with that but also because he secretly didn't want to hurt him.

Every time Bucky walked past Sam, he brushed hit his shoulder. Which really hurt as Bucky was so strong.

Sam just wanted to help him for gods sake, but he wasn't making it easy.

He was just going to leave him be now. If he wanted to distance himself, then he could go a head.

But it didn't stop him constantly thinking about him.

Bucky knew he had to be nasty to Sam in order for him to back off and to show he wasn't going to spill his guts to him. He had to. He didn't want, but he has to.

Bucky saw the way Sam kept glancing at him, the way he wasn't really paying attention to his surroundings. Which made it easier for Bucky to see what Sam was doing.

Bucky really hated being nasty to him, he didn't want Sam to hate him but it was best if he was so he wouldn't want to get close to him. He knew if Sam did, he wouldn't like Bucky at all.

Bucky had all this on his mind, but what made it worse was Steve constantly asking him if he was ok. He was so annoyed with himself that he couldn't hide his emotions properly. So he lost it.

"For gods sake Steve IM FINE!" Bucky shouted, getting everyone's attention. He stormed out the compound and went for a jog.

He found a lake, and sat by it, looking at his reflection in the water.

He hated himself. They way his hair was so scruffy, the bags under his eyes, and off course the metal arm.

Bucky started scratching at where his flesh met his arm. He did this when he had moments where he truly hated everything about him and got upset and angry about the arm. It never did anything, but he still did it.

He stopped, and his body flopped down in tiredness. He had used all his energy up, shouting at Steve and thinking about last night.

He laid on the grass, and stared up at the blue sky. A few tears dropped down his face.

He hated his life. So much. There was nothing good in it, nothing at all.

He squeezed his eyes tight, as he felt the salty tears pour down his face. He just laid there for a while, crying silently.

He knew he had to go back at some point. He really didn't want to. He would rather just stay here, in the nature. He found nature always calmed him. It had since he was little. So, for a little longer he laid in the grass.

Back at the compound, Steve was getting really worried about where Bucky had gone and Sam still kept to his thoughts.

Sam was so worried about what was going on inside his head. It must be so much, and he had obviously lost control of keeping it together. Part of him, blamed himself for Bucky running out.

If he had tried harder to stop him from blocking him out, then Bucky wouldn't have gone and maybe Sam could have actually helped him.

Sam wanted to go looking for him but he had no idea where he was. And people would be suspiciously why Sam, of all people, was looking for Bucky.

"Steve, there must be some way we can find him."
"His phone!" Natasha said, finally realising.
"We can track him with his phone!" Steve said in response.

Once they got his location, Steve got ready to go.
"Do you want me to come with you, you might need someone?" Sam actually just wanted to go for Bucky, but he sure ain't telling nobody that.
Steve agreed and they set off.

Bucky was interrupted from his peace, by the sound of a car. He got up and turned around and saw Steve get out. He groaned, but then he saw Sam, and felt slightly happier that Sam came too.

"What do you want." Bucky said, sitting up, but not looking at them.
"To talk. I just want to know what's going on."
"Look Steve. For the millionth time, I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me, so please stop asking." Bucky needed to be straight with him to get across.
Steve nodded.
"Do you want to come back with us?"
"Um yeah, just uh hang on" Bucky wanted to take in the nature for a while longer.

Steve walked back to the car, but Sam stayed. Steve gave Sam a confused look, but Sam just nodded in reassurance in response.

Sam sat next to Bucky, and stared at the lake. Bucky didn't move his gaze when Sam sat down.

"I know you are tired of hearing this, and probably not from me but seriously, are you ok? Because last night was a mess. I don't have any bad intentions I swear, I just want to help."

Bucky so badly wanted to tell him everything.
"I don't need you help. And I'm fine" he got up and walked past Sam, heading to the car.

Sam sat there, his mouth slightly open. That kind of stung. He knew Bucky wasn't this bitter, he knew it was an act but it still hurt.

Sam got up and got in the car.

It was the most silent, awkward car ride ever.

As soon as they got back, Bucky went straight to his room.

He missed the nature, he wished he had never been interrupted.

But at the same time, he also wished he could just sit there with Sam.

With Steve, any time there was a silence, it was so weird and extremely uncomfortable, where with Sam, it felt normal and it was a satisfying silence.

He wished he could just sit there, next to Sam. The fresh breeze, blowing against his hair, the sound of the ducks in the water, and watching the water too. He felt calm, in that short moment, before he was so rude to Sam.

He fell on to his bed, hitting his head on his pillow, staring at the ceiling, wishing it was the blue sky. He felt trapped in his room. The plain white walls, the plain white bed sheets. It was so plain.

Bucky longed for some colour in his life, the colours from life, and the radiant, happy colours from Sam. Sam just made his life feel so much more colourful. Even when the used to argue all the time, this still seemed the case.

Bucky was a blank canvas, but Sam made him into a beautiful painting.

That's how he felt about Sam, that's the best he was doing at this moment.

A/n
Let me know what you think of this chapter.

Thanks for reading 💖

~classynat