Hate to love you

Chapter 8

Funerals shouldn’t be a thing.

You understood the sentiment behind a funeral. Saying goodbye to a loved one, giving them a proper farewell, providing closure for all those who love and cared for them. But nowhere in any book did it state how much of a burden funerals could actually be.

Instead of grieving for your mother as you should have been, you spent the entire day receiving condolences that were too systemic to be real, tears that were too perfectly timed to be spontaneous, and stories that you just didn’t want to listen to. Maybe it was your utter exhaustion after the past few hectic days that was causing you to question how genuine everyone was. You were being unfair, you knew. These people knew and cared for your mother. Relatives, friends, coworkers, a handful of people who actually flew in from India. You weren’t being reasonable, but at this point, you didn’t care. You just wanted it to be over.

Your father stood a few ways off to your right, looking even more tired than you felt. You could understand why. The man had been dealing with the funeral arrangements and everything in between while grieving the loss of his wife. As you watched him nod along absently to something a woman you didn’t recognize was saying to him, you felt your heart go out to him. This was torturous for you, so you couldn’t even imagine what he was going through.

You excused yourself from an older couple then, walking away from the center of the living room. You looked at the clock, wondering when everyone would call it a day and leave. It was almost dark outside, and you just wanted to be alone.

You leaned against the wall, closing your eyes briefly. The mere action caused them to burn, a result of excessive crying in the past few days. You took in a deep breath, trying to make the horrible, trapped feeling in your chest go away.

A hand touched your arm lightly, and you had a fleeting moment of dread at having to make conversation wash over you before you opened your eyes, meeting the gaze of soft, grey ones.

“How’re you doing?” Bucky asked quietly, voice just the right tone of soothing. You felt yourself relax in his presence when he stepped closer, blocking your view of the rest of the room. His body curved in towards you, as if to shield you from the world. You felt your heartbeat calm at that. It was a reaction you had accepted would happen when he was around. You had embraced it, in fact, even learned to revel in it.

You shrugged at his question, not knowing how to respond. Everyone kept asking you that nowadays, and even though you could see why,  you were tired of answering it,considering you had to lie and say you were fine every single time. Bucky seemed to realize this, nodding his head slowly and shifting on his feet and hanging his head. You took him in during that silence, his hair slicked back to fall delicately on the back of his neck. He was wearing white, as was custom, same as you. Your eyes darted over his face, his own looking up to meet you. He gave you a sad smile.

You shifted closer to him, and he understood immediately what it was that you needed. That’s just how it was now, you guessed. Bucky knowing, just through a look, exactly what you were thinking. His arms wrapped around you, pulling your body closer to his until your head rested on his chest. You sighed at the warmth he radiated, feeling your muscles loosen a bit.

Your heavy heart, cut up and crying for relief, let you believe that you would be okay, that Bucky was here and he wouldn’t let you go. Your emotions were too clouded to let your brain convince you otherwise. You let Bucky’s strong grip ground you, eyes falling shut and mind shutting down under the lull of his beating heart.

……………………

Five days since she left.

It wasn’t long, no. Five days were nothing, especially when the job is as stressful and time consuming as it is, and on top of that, the preparations for his mother-in-law’s funeral. At times, the thought of her not being there even slipped from Bucky’s mind entirely when he was doing something particularly important. He’d forget that she left to go live with her father, with no explanation about what was going to happen afterward. In that moment, it didn’t seem like a big deal.