✔𝚨 𝚸𝛐𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞 ➳ 𝚩𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝚩𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬

Chapter 18

It has been said, time heals all wounds. Melora did not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue, and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.

Others might say life was too short to be unhappy, too short to waste in anger, regrets, worries and grudges – but it was hardly short for her.

No true words were ever spoken between her and Steve Rogers again. In truth, she blamed him for Bucky's death, and he could tell she did. Her anger had faded, and when he died, it instead became sadness. Maybe she should have said something.

Dugan was put in the charge of the Howling Commandos for the rest of the war, or so she heard. All of that was something she had left behind after what happened to Steve. She could not take it, and instead, she went back to Brooklyn, buying the only apartment there she had been in.

Her jewellery was sold, and for a time, she lived from the earnings of the war. Days were not ones she distinguished between. There was no use in doing so anyway, all of them were the same. She would sleep, wake up, write and then drink until sleep.

Another world. Another life. But as the new world crumbled, her love for it fading, the old one came back. On her knees trying to pick up the pieces of her new life as the old one came crashing on top of her.

I watch everyone
move so fast
towards each other
and I think...
how beautiful it is
when it moves slow,
and takes time,
when it's curious,
how it lingers,
all those layers to uncover,
how it feels to explore

Melora was quick to realise something. Honestly, she hadn't realised she loved him until she did. That's what made it so beautiful. There was no loud, screeching halt inside of her heart, no sign that suddenly lit up and let her know she had found her favourite thing.

It was much quieter and calmer. One day she had woken up, sitting across from him and watched him tell another plot of a book he wanted her to read, one she had heard twenty times already, but everything inside of her felt safe.

She should have known from the safety she felt around him. Everything was serene and peaceful, and she still almost laughed to herself at the thought, because how could she not have realised until too late how deeply she cared about him?

In the midst of crowds, or background music, or the chatter of other people in the bars and in the restaurants, time always slowed down, created small pockets just for them and for those moments. Those wonderful moments she would give everything to have, there it was. There it is.

You love him,
you do,
and here's the miracle:
he loves you too.

You are allowed
to lick off the colour from his lips
to listen to the hymns in his pulse
to bask in the sunlight of his voice

You are allowed
to have him.

You love each other,
you do,
and here's the tragedy:
it's not enough

You are allowed
to watch the sun swallow him whole and burn him up
to stain your finger to the bone holding him together
to count the constellations in his eyes as they blink out

You are not allowed
to save him.

What she shared with Bucky and what she shared with Loki had taught her many things, things about herself, and who she was. Bucky had made her love the small things of life, feel beautiful whenever she didn't.