𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 [on hold]

𝗲𝗹𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻

-

Bucky stared blankly at her lips. Had he just imagined the words leaving her mouth? His eyes flicked back up to hers, a glossy sheen to them. He was sure to have felt a heart string tear apart right this second.

"What?"

Noelle inhaled deeply, her hands on his cheeks, softly rubbing over the scruff on them.

"If everything we can ever be is...this," she said, choking on her own words, "I think you're right to want to keep us apart for good."

His heart dropped. She was using his own argument against him, and it destroyed him completely. They were still naked, his pulse was still way too quick, and there she was, on her way to break his heart with the words he had told her so many times before.

"I know you believe wholeheartedly that you'd screw this up if we ever became more," she continued in a quiet, straining voice, "But I don't know why. And you don't want me to know, either. So if you decide to shut yourself off from me, do it properly and don't leave me hanging midair because I can't take it anymore, Bucky. I can't."

He gulped heavily. Being with her felt so natural. But she was correct. He knew he'd screw up their relationship, just like any other that came before he'd met Noelle. His chest felt tight as he spoke.

"Can we get dressed, please?"

Noelle nodded, her shoulders dropping. Silently, they retrieved their clothes, pulling them on without acknowledging each other. As he adjusted the fabric of his t-shirt, he gathered the courage to speak up again, just as she slid into her yellow hoodie, all the beautiful tattoos going into hiding.

"I want to explain," he simply said, standing still in his spot by the TV, waiting for her reaction. She looked up at him, her palms smoothing her messy, unruly hair. Then, almost not noticeable, she nodded, her eyes closing in what seemed to be either surrender or relief.

Wearily, she plopped down onto the couch. It still smelled of sex in the room, but neither of them acknowledged it as he carefully approached her and lowered himself onto the sofa too, far enough for her to not feel constricted by him. His heart was manically pumping with adrenaline.

But she was worth it. Worth opening up to her, even if it pushed her further away from him.

"My past is...messy," he began, unsure of what words to use to describe what happened to him. Noelle stared at her cuticles with unnatural interest, and simply nodded, indicating that she was listening.

"Very messy. There are things that still haunt me to this day. And these...things keep me from trusting myself with relationships altogether. Like, badly. And I'm so sorry about this back and forth we're going through. I don't want you to get hurt, Noelle. I really don't. We both know I like you too much."

Silence. Noelle gulped heavily, her throat bobbing as she did. And Bucky felt the words just tumbling out of him.

"I have some... trauma," he continued, "From decades of severe mental abuse. Physical, too. I don't even remember much of my youth anymore. I have intrusive thoughts, doubts, fears. I'm afraid to hurt anyone coming too close to me, really. I have this damn arm, and I have gene-enhancing serum flowing through my veins. So, I'm a superhuman monster. Was. I was a superhuman monster. And I don't trust myself with people very much."

Her head turned in his direction, her hazel eyes blurred from tears.

"Any woman I tried going out with ended up unable to put up with my depressive episodes, with my constant self-doubt, with my nightly nightmares."

He paused again, his mouth completely dry.

"You didn't have any nightmares when I slept at your place," Noelle muttered under her breath, one hand wiping away the tears that thickly trickled over her cheeks now. Bucky felt his heart swell in his chest. She was, once again, correct. He had had the best sleep of his life that night.

"I know," he smiled, bitter-sweetly, "You were there."

She averted her gaze, processing his words. Then, a huff escaped her.

"We're good for each other, Barnes."

"I..." he began, but let the sentence trail off into nothing. "Maybe."

"We so are," she said, looking back at him. She sniffled, smiling at him with a sad expression on her gorgeous face.

"Yeah, I guess," he whispered, staring at his metal hand, the golden details on it seeming much better to look at than her pained face.

"So, go out with me."

His eyes jolted back up to her, widened in surprise. She seemed shocked by her own sentence, too, though. A beat went by. Then two.

"What?" Was that all his brain could come up with these days? He cursed himself for how nervous and jittery he was around her.

"A date. With me. Let me prove to you that I'm different from those bitches who couldn't handle who you are."

"Noelle," he sighed, dragging her name as long as he could. Her gaze was soft now, expectantly resting on his face. He could say yes. Right here, right then, he could agree to try it. To try and accept her into his life, try to get past his previous troubles with romance. But a voice inside of him screamed at him to decline anyway. The doubts he had were strong, and they took over his body completely.

"Yes or no, Bucky," she breathed, leaning toward him, resting a hand on his, all warm and soft. For a second, his eyes bored into hers, then he looked away, to the window getting covered by more snow.

"I can't."

Feeling numb and hollow, he got up, leaving Noelle sitting on her sofa with tears in her eyes and hopes shattered on the floor along with his heart. This was for the better, he repeatedly told himself, and this time for real.

"Fuck you," he heard her angry voice from behind him, followed by a sob. Then, he pulled the apartment door shut behind him, and immediately sought his couch. Never in his life had he felt so empty and lonely, and all just so Noelle couldn't get hurt any further.

Bucky Barnes was a complete idiot.

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