With Him | Bucky x Reader | Enemies with Benefits

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TW - CHECK COMMENT ->

Y/n's POV:

Blood in the snow.

Somebody was limping through the trees.

They moved slowly as though they were in a crippling amount of pain.

Occasionally, they reached out to steady themself against a trunk or a branch.

They took heavy, labored breaths.

Every step took a great amount of energy and effort as they kept going.

Suddenly their knee collapsed underneath them.

They fell to the ground.

I couldn't hear anything, there was no noise, only silence.

In the twilight the person's face was unrecognizable.

Blood dripped from their body tainting the fresh white carpet.

They needed help.

They were dying.

I walked slowly towards the body in the forest. I wanted to aid them but in the cold a heavy numbness had covered my body like a weighted blanket.

The faceless body rolled itself over, limbs flailing in the struggle like a helpless baby.

Although I couldn't hear a sound, I felt the emotion of an exhausted groan echo through the landscape, bouncing off trees, rocks, and ponds.

As I walked around the figure, a bloody and beaten face came into view and the man lost consciousness.

A weak voice calling my name echoed through my mind.

I sat up in a hurry, a familiar sickening feeling pooling in my stomach and I sprinted to the bathroom.

He's okay. I told myself. He'll come back. That wasn't him. Bucky is safe. That wasn't him. He isn't dead. He's on his way back.

My stomach gave out and my dinner resurfaced.

I couldn't go back to sleep now, that much was clear.

I pulled one of Bucky's faded hoodies over my pyjamas and started to walk towards the stairs as if on autopilot. I needed to clear my head. I needed to breath.

My legs carried me to where I needed to be, up the steps. Up the building. Towards the roof.

With every step I repeated my new mantra. Unlikely, not impossible.

As I stepped through the doors that lead onto the roof the cool breeze hit my bare legs, the shorts I had been wearing to sleep were doing nothing to protect me from the chill of the night.

I relished in the pain that came from the cold. I was like the man in the woods. The man that wasn't Bucky. The stranger that had died in front of my eyes as I watched. The figment of my imagination that my mind had created to torture me. The man who's face was covered in crimson. 

I started to take slow steps away from the door. Away from the light and the warmth. Away from my team. My friends. My family. 

The silence, the dark, they both matched the quiet chaos that raged through my mind. Unlikely, not impossible. He is not dead. He will come back.

I gazed up at the stars that looked down on me. They were looking down on Bucky too. Maybe he was looking up at them at the same time as I was. Was he seeing the same thing as me? 

A voice called out in the dark. "Y/N!" It was Wanda.

What was she doing here?

"Y/n," She called out after me, "Step away from the edge." 

I looked down at my feet. She was right, they had walked me to the edge of the roof. I hadn't realized.

"Please. Come over here."

I tried. I wanted to walk back to her, but my feet were cemented to the edge of the building. 

My eyes flickered from the silhouette cast by the light behind her to the concrete 40' below me.

"Y/n. Come here, let's have a chat." Wanda's voice shook as she spoke. "Please step away." 

She could move me herself. She had the power to do it, all it would take would be a flick of her wrist, but she was giving me a choice. She wanted me to choose to step away.

So I did.

I stepped down from the ledge.

I walked towards her.

I found myself surrounded by her arms.

She was crying.

I was not.

I was just as numb as I had been in front of the image of the dying stranger.

The only thing running through my head: Unlikely, not impossible.

But it was different now, now it was: Unlikely, not impossible.

(679 Words)