Home (HE/HIM VERSION)

22

Breathe.

Y/n stood in the church bathroom, his hands resting on either side of the sink as he stared at himself in the mirror. He was desperately searching for some sort of happiness in his eyes, anything to keep his bubbly character going. Anything to have one nice night with Bucky. But there didn't even seem to be a small glint.

Y/n could barely recognise himself in the mirror. Destroyed by exhaustion, grief, and stress. Mascara had run down his cheeks, staining his face and swirling with the other light makeup he'd applied that day. His hair was a mess from Wanda massaging all the gel out, and his vest was frayed beyond help. It wasn't a pleasant sight, and it was a sight that y/n had desperately been trying to avoid. But he knew that it was time to go, and that was made obvious by the warm red liquid that started to spill out of his nose.

Nosebleed.

Nosebleeds were never a good sign for y/n. It meant that he was overexerting his powers. He had been mimicking Wanda's powers for too long, and it was draining the life out of him. Even if he ignored Wanda's wishes and defeated the military, he'd slip out of control sooner or later, and everybody knew how dangerous that was.

The last time y/n slipped out of control was... well, everyone remembers it pretty well, the 'Lagos Incident'.

So many innocent people died that day, all because of him. He lost control and every single power of his came to the surface. A lethal whirlwind of fire, energy, ice, mind control, everything.

Y/n was unwillingly sent to the Raft by Bruce and Tony. He was isolated in an empty white room for months on end, used as a lab rat for Bruce's experiments. The only good thing that came out of it was the fact that his code words didn't affect him anymore, but other than that, it felt like he was back with Hydra. The only things that had been missing were the shock collars, mind wiping machines, and the cryofreeze chambers.

It was pure hell.

He wasn't even able to see Bucky. The only form of contact he got from him was through a letter that had been smuggled in with his food one night. God, that letter broke him. He stayed in the character of Fred for the main part of the letter, wrote a personal note on the back, and also attached a photo of himself in Romania. Right beside him there was a teddy bear with a wig on, which was obviously meant to resemble y/n. Dork.

Bucky had always been a sort of lighthouse for him. He was the person to listen out for if he ever felt stressed during missions, he was the person that would listen whilst he rambled on and on about whatever he was excited about that day, but he was also the arms that would hold him whenever he was having an off day. Bucky was his guiding light, and now he had to let go of it forever.

He wasn't ready.

Y/n quickly blinked himself back into reality when the familiar feeling of shutting down started to arise, splashing his face with water as much as he could as he tried to ground himself. He was desperate to wash the pain away for a few more hours. Desperate to have a nice goodbye where he didn't have to cry in front of his husband the entire time.

Y/n sniffled as he reached out for some paper towels to pat his face dry, still trying to muster up any energy he had left so that he could stop the nosebleed. He lifted one hand up into the air, flicking his wrist as he allowed his magic to wash over him, clearing any imperfection and allowing his image to reset back into the Jack that left the house that morning.

His breathing was still shaky and trembling as he threw the paper towels into the trash, finally looking up at himself in the mirror. He forced a bright smile onto his face, causing every single muscle to burn and ache with exhaustion. Everything had to be perfect for a few more hours. Everything had to be 'normal'.

*****

Y/n kept that forced smile on his face as he finally opened the door and made his way out to the main part of the church, his entire demeanour almost dropping as he caught sight of his husband sat down on one of the pews.

The exact pew that y/n sat at during Bucky's funeral. God, he felt sick.

Bucky's face lit up at the sight of his husband, quickly standing up as he picked up the bouquet of flowers that had been laying beside him. "Hi, Doll." He hummed in a loving tone, desperate to ignore the obviously wobbling smile as he made his way toward him, pulling y/n into a comforting hug. "I hope these flowers aren't too much, I just-" He paused, realising that he was rambling. "I just knew I had to apologise."

He pressed a few kisses to the top of y/n's head, holding him as close as he possibly could as he continued to lie through his teeth. God, he hated lying, but he was determined to stay oblivious. Determined to give y/n the goodbye he deserved. "I was in a weird spot, y'know? Life's been stressful lately. From Mr Harts visit, to you being sick, and all the orders I have to get through at work... I wasn't thinking properly."

Y/n closed his eyes, resting his head against Bucky's chest for a few moments as he listened to him continue to ramble on and on. He wasn't expecting him to apologise, especially because the argument had been completely his fault, but, just like Wanda said, it was typical of the pair. They could be screaming at each other one moment, and laughing the next. It was just how they were.

Y/n pulled away from Bucky's hold, reaching his hands up to cup his face and shut him up. His warm smile never wavered, simply savouring every single one of Bucky's features. "Hey, it's okay." He whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "I'm sorry too." He nodded, rubbing his thumbs over his husband's cheeks. "How about we squash it and have a relaxing night in, hm? Just the two of us?" Y/n offered with a hopeful look in his eyes, moving away so that they weren't inches away from one another anymore.

Bucky nodded at the nice offer, a fond smile playing at his lips as y/n took the bouquet out of his hands. "That sounds great, Doll." He hummed, beginning to follow his husband out of the church. He snaked an arm around his waist, desperately trying to block out the fact that this was going to be the last time they'd walk home together. The last time he'd feel the setting sun on his face. "What've you got in mind?"

"Well, I was thinking we could watch a movie first, and then we'll see where the night takes us."