UNTHAW: Comet and the winter soldier

Three

I'm screaming when my eyes open, releasing myself from the nightmare. All I can hear is my blood pumping in my ears, feel the slam of my heart against my chest. Tears drip from my eyes and land on my sheets. My knuckles are white from gripping the pillow that is in front of me. The same place I used to hold Peter. As the nightmare releases its clutches on me, I too release the pillow. It's too soon to remember all the pieces. But I know it started with me back at HYDRA. It always ends with me drifting into deep, infinite space. Losing Peter again. Losing Aunt Nat. It's watching Uncle Tony die. It's Thanos. Then Wanda. Sometimes it's all at once and sometimes it's nothing.

Sweat drenched my pillow case and when I sit up and look at my nightstand I see it's barley four o'clock in the morning. I reach for the glass of water on my dresser and drink tenderly while my eyes scan the room. My room is barley lit, the city sky begins to pale from the inky night. I squint to look out the window and set the glass aside. There are no clouds in the sky, but there are the city lights that seem to be just as close. Dark purple begins to bleed into a lighter mix of a hazy blue. I'm used to waking up around this time. I haven't had a full night's sleep in almost a year. Except for the few nights Laura drove up to visit. It's always easier when I have someone in bed with me. Someone to hold.

When my heart rate returns to a some what normal rate I take a sip the rest of my water and lay back down. Ignoring the sweat that coats my forehead and neck, my eyes stare at my ceiling. Then I bite my lip, fingers dancing on the comforter. This was around the time when I would normally touch myself so I could fall into a post-climax slumber, but my mind was stuck on what Bucky asked. I could really use a partner in crime to help these kids out, the strain in his tone rung through my head and ate away at me. I tossed the pillow from under my head then push the comforter off me and the thoughts deep deep down.

When I get to campus later that morning I see Jessica holding two cups of coffee and I see that we are matching. The two of us are both wearing a red t-shirt and dark blue jeans. The only difference is our sneakers. Hers are white and black, mine are red and blue. I wondered if she planned this somehow. "Is this your way of apologizing?" She gestures to my clothes, making me scoff.

"No," I tell her accepting the coffee she offered me. I gesture to the cup before I take a sip, "is this your way of apologizing?"

"Maybe." Which meant yes. Her head lowers a few inches past confidence as she admits, "okay, yes. I shouldn't have said that to you yesterday."

"I agree."

"It's just.. I know how hard it is for you to open up to people and I want to see you happy with someone."

"I am happy."

She shoots me an unconvinced stare, "no, you aren't Lila."

I take an angry sip. Wasn't she supposed to be apologizing? "Well, I don't need to be with someone to be happy."

She nods her head but I know she has her own opinion on the topic. I'm just happy she doesn't share that opinion with me. And I don't apologize for setting boundaries for myself, which seemed to help because she doesn't press the topic anymore. When we part ways, like every morning, she wishes me good luck in class and I do the same to her. I stroll into the lecture hall and take the closest seat to the front of the room. While I'm taking out my notes from last class, skimming over the material a bag lands in the seat beside me. Then a muffin is placed beside my pen. I stare at the pastry as if it were a weapon or a threat. Then I see who placed it on my desk and I'm certain that it's a threat.

The same boy from the other day grins at me and when I don't return the gesture he sits, "George," he reminds me of his name before observing with a humorous light illuminating his face, "we have had this class all semester and you still can't remember my name."