Branded For Ruin

Part 1

           The gentle hum of the air conditioner was the only noise occupying the waiting room. Pale orange walls encircled empty chairs. Chairs lined up for waiting patients, soft autumn leaf designs etched onto their cushions. Bucky hated those chairs. He hated the color, the design, the overall shape of the chairs, but what he hated most was the cushioning. Every time he sat in one, it felt like he was getting sucked into an unknown abyss, and he couldn't grab onto anything to escape because his hands sucked into the soft arm rests. Bucky hated a lot of things, but these chairs were close to the top of the list. Yeah, he could just stand.

Leaning against the wall, he stared at his tennis shoes. He had just recently bought them, and they were surprisingly comfy. He could walk a lot lighter now that he didn't have his boots anchoring his steps into intimidating struts. Sensing another person enter the room, he looked up. You were walking toward one of the chairs, your face void of emotion. You sat in one of the chairs, and Bucky's heart rate sped up. He watched as you slowly sank into the cushions, and he wanted to scream to tell you to get up. You had felt someone staring at you, and you stared at the man who was occupying the corner. He quickly tore his blue eyes away from yours, his heart slightly relieved that you had not been sucked into an unending abyss. Reaching for his hair to drape over his face, he frowned. Right...haircut. He felt exposed and vulnerable right now and tried to make himself as small as possible.

"James." Dr. Raynor called out.

He lifted his head slowly and began to amble toward her. He didn't feel light on his feet anymore. His new shoes now seemed heavier than ever as he edged toward the door of Dr. Raynor's office. Sighing, he walked into the bleak room. Therapy was another thing he hated. Some days he wished the government would take their soft chairs and pestering therapy away, and he could live alone in the woods eating a lifetime supply of ramen noodles. It was one of those days.

~~~~~

"What's on your mind?" Your therapist, Dr. Earnest, asked as he leaned back in his chair.

You sat quietly, legs crossed, foot moving wildly. The man out there, he seemed so...scared? Hurt? You didn't really know, but what you did know was that he looked mortified that you sat in one of the chairs. Maybe it was his chair? It makes sense. Dr. Earnest sighed and clasped his hands together.

"Hello? I need you on earth." He said as you snapped out of your thoughts.

Your foot began to move faster.

"Huh? S-sorry. Kinda got lost there." You said as you uncrossed your legs and planted them on the soft carpet floor.

"Did you have any nightmares last night?"

Your leg started bouncing. The heel of your foot nearly touching the ground with every bounce. "Can't have any nightmares if you don't sleep."

Dr. Earnest sighed and rubbed a hand over his face in frustration. Or was it disappointment? You honestly couldn't tell the difference anymore. You waited for him to look at you again, this time with tired eyes. He pulled his notebook closer to him and began to jot down a few things. Oh, so you guys were back to that now. He flipped his pencil around, trying to erase his mistake, but the eraser was basically gone, so metal scraped against paper and you cringed.

"Did you do your commitment you made last week?" His voice was more irritated than usual, and both of your legs started to move.

"Uh, I waved at my neighbor, um, Charles, I think is his name. He didn't wave back though." You said with a shrug.

Dr. Earnest eyed you before jotting a couple things down. "Did he know you waved?"

That... That was another thing. "Well, you see, I was kind of behind the bushes and he had no idea I was there, but you never said he had to see me."

Another sigh of disappointment escaped his lips. "The point of social interaction is that you interact with people who know you are there."

You laughed loudly. "If you wanted a patient that was good with social interaction, I think you got the wrong job."

"I'm too old for this job." He muttered as he shook his head.

~~~~~

"James, take a seat."

Bucky closed his eyes as he took a deep breath. The couch was still there. The couch he had told her he did not like. It was just so...nice. But at least this couch didn't swallow you up like a starving whale, unlike the chairs in the waiting room. He didn't want to ruin it, that's what he told her last time.

"Can I stand?" Bucky spoke gruffly.

Dr. Raynor sighed. "If it makes you feel any better."

Bucky nodded his head and shifted his weight to his right foot. Rays of sunlight filtered through the peach-colored curtains, adding a somewhat comfortable glow to the otherwise threatening room. Dr. Raynor started talking, but honestly, he couldn't hear a word she was saying. His thoughts were on the girl who sat in the death chair in the waiting room, and why she was going to therapy. He didn't know why his thoughts were on her, but it was a nice change for the horrible thoughts that usually plagued his mind.

~~~~~

Bucky walked toward the elevator with slow steps, his head down. A soft reflection of himself looked up at him from the shiny floor and he frowned. Reflections were a hard thing to look at, but another easy thing to hate. Some days he saw a man, others he saw a monster. Today he was a mixture. He could outline a man, but a monster bubbled inside and he huffed. Finally making it to the elevator, he looked up. It was you again. You were occupied on your phone, eyes focused on the screen.

The soft hum of the elevator and light bounce let you know you were moving. The man from earlier was standing in the other corner of the elevator, but you were too scared to start a conversation. You kept your eyes focused on your phone screen, which was just on the home screen. You hardly did anything on your phone, but you used it as an excuse to look busy. Fingers danced across the screen, acting like you were doing something. A loud groan of the elevator made you freeze. No, no, no. Not today, please not today.

Bucky's blue eyes surveyed the elevator with worry. A harsh stop of the elevator made both you and Bucky topple over. His heart rate sped up dramatically. The elevator stopped. Why did the elevator stop?! His breathing became erratic, and he started to gasp for air. He felt like he was in a containment cell with Hydra again. He saw you glance over at him with concern, but he began to curl himself into a ball. Fear and anxiety began to blossom in his chest, and it hurt. He could faintly hear your soft voice, telling him to breathe. Elevators. They were added to the list of things he hated.