With Him | Bucky x Reader | Enemies with Benefits

-66-

Y/n's POV:

A whole week had passed. A whole week and I hadn't left the confines of Bucky's room. The only reason I had the energy to get up and go shower was so that I could use his body wash and smell like him. It felt pathetic, but a part of me didn't want to admit that he was gone.

I didn't know what to do without him. I felt like a helpless shell of a person. I shouldn't have become so dependent on him, but now that he was gone, I realized just how much I needed him.

I needed him teasing me and pulling me out of bed. I needed him to hug me and help me stay asleep. I needed him to buy me milkshakes (although that one was less of a priority).

I hadn't been able to sleep at all without him. The figure of the man dying in the snow was now mixed in with the nightmares of my brother's death. I hadn't spent a single morning without my head hunched over the toilet bowl since he had gone.

Nobody had disturbed me. Actually, that's a lie. I hadn't let anybody disturb me. Nat, Wanda, Maria, Peter, Pepper...etc. they had all come to my door expecting an answer. Expecting to be able to get me to open up but I hadn't let them in.

The only people who hadn't come to visit me were Tony and Steve. It was like they knew better, they knew that I wouldn't respond. That I didn't want to talk about him because it was all I could do not to break down again and talking about him might just push me over the edge.

I climbed out the bed and went over to Buck's chest of drawers to grab a new shirt (the one I was wearing had lost its Bucky-ness) and I was reaching around when my hand hit something. A notebook.

I pulled out the notebook, it was the same one I had read through just a couple of weeks earlier, the one where he had written about me and the things he wanted to remember about me.

Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

I reached further behind the clothes and pulled out more of the books, carrying them over to our bed in my arms. 

I know it was stupid, but I wanted to read his words, trace the pen lines with my fingers, and follow where his hand had moved over the page. These pages held his most important memories, they held the story of his life, this was who he was, and these pages were all I had.

I sat surrounded by words as the books lay scattered around me on the bed but one caught my eye. 

It was new. 
It was still wrapped in the packaging, untouched.

I reached for it hesitantly, slowly pulling away the plastic wrap that surrounded it. I flicked through the empty pages, listening to the sound of paper hitting paper and running my fingers over the waxy surface of the pages.

I pulled myself farther up the bed and grabbed a pen. I began to write.

This is so weird.
I don't know what to write.

I miss your smile. I love how I can see it in your eyes when you are really smiling, but now it's not here.

I love running my hands through your hair. It doesn't matter if we're kissing or just lying down and relaxing. I love feeling it between my fingers and I can't even process the fact that I might never be able to do that again.

I love just spending time with you and the thought of never being able to do that again is...

It was...
I didn't have any more words to express the emptiness I felt at the loss of him. His absence was crushing me, it made it hard to breathe, to think, to function. It made it hard to live. 

He was gone. And I was just trying to accept it.

I heard a knock at the door. 
Not again.

"Fuck off!" I yelled to whoever it was, I didn't care, I just didn't want to talk.

The door opened anyway and I fought to hide all of Bucky's notebooks under the comforter. They weren't for anyone else to see.

"Get out Tony." I glared at him as he walked into the room.

"Having a master key really does come in handy sometimes." He mumbles, spinning the key on his finger before tossing it onto the table.

"A bit of an invasion of privacy, don't you think?" I asked. I wasn't sure if I was referring to him barging into our room or the fact that he had a master key, but it seemed appropriate in both situations.

He cocked his head and looked at me with mock sympathy. "When you pay for the construction of an Avengers-Level Facility then you can have your own master key."

"Go away, Tony. I don't want to talk to you." I told him, throwing a pillow at his head. 

"I know you don't and that's why I'm here." He said, looking down at the bed as though he was judging whether it was worthy of his presumptuous ass.

He decided it was and sat down.

"Look, I'm not gonna pretend I liked the guy..." he began, so I kicked him. "Fine." He admitted, "He grew on me."

"You loved him too." I pushed.

"He wasn't the worst guy in the world. I mean he did kill my parents, but..."

 It was all going so well.

"Y/n." He said, his voice low and his tone more serious than I could ever remember hearing it. "It's okay to be sad. I understand, and I want you to know that even if you don't want to talk, I'll just sit in silence with you."

I stayed silent. There was no way he could understand.

"I don't know what your relationship was like, whether you were just like fuck buddies or if you actually cared for him-"

"I love him." I interrupted him. "I love him so much, and if you knew how much we loved each other then I don't think you would even be asking that question."

This time he stayed silent, encouraging me to keep talking.

"I-" I began, "He- We-" I sighed and tried again, "I don't even have the words to describe us. We spent all our free time together. He's like part of me and I don't know... I can't..."

The words choked and died in my throat as I fiddled with my necklace charm.

Tony looked at me sympathetically, before opening his arms for a hug. "Y/n,"  he started, but I stopped him.

"I don't want to talk about it anymore. Please, Tony." 

He nodded as he held me in his arms, 

(1110 Words)