'𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐈 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐄, 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔.'
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Even if every memory from 1917 comes roaring back to you, being a former Hydra assassin means you can never get a break. Since Beverly is on a mission of redemption, she respo...
The walk to the hotel takes longer than we needed it to be. My legs ache with the circles we had done to find this place, and honestly, I don't think it was worth it. It a dark, dingy, oldhotel, with very little rooms, and the rooms they have, are dirty and scary. But, I'm so tired that I'll sleep on the lobby floor at this point. Sam payed for our stay, telling Bucky and I that we will need to treat him to breakfast the next day. We both agreed, honestly not hearing him through our own yawns. But, I also know that we didn't hear him because our emotions are all over the place. I can tell by the look on is face, that Bucky is still pissed about the police station therapy session.
The entire walk here, he didn't say a word. I tried to get a conversation out of him, but he ignored me. I have an idea what he is angry about, but I really don't want to be right. I just know this will blow up in front of our faces. He has a stern, frozen expression of anger all over his face, and no matter what I do, it won't fade away. Even Sam has tried to help, but he won't say a word.
Now, we are walking into our shared room, two bedrooms. Sam bounces on the closest double bed, his head hitting the cushions and his face being covered by the white cloud. He has a satisfactory smile on his face, happy that we are finally getting some rest for what feels like the first time in days. I would be happy as well, if it weren't for the hesitant look on Bucky's face.
"Can we talk, Beverly?" He asks.
"Can we do this in the morning? I'm exhausted." I groan.
"No," He shakes his head. "I don't think I can sleep until I know the answer to my question."
"What? What question is so important that we can't wait until morning." My fatigue is catching up on me.
"What did you mean back there? About not being worthy." He questions.
"There isn't much to read into it. I meant what I said." I sit on the end of the other double bed.
"But, you don't deserve love? Did you really mean that?"
"Guys," Sam groans into the pillow. "Can you please put a hold on your lovers quarrel? I want to sleep too, you know."
"I agree, so let me get this to you as easiest as I can." I nod my head. "The things that I have done, mean that I shouldn't be alive, let alone be loved."
"Are you serious?" Bucky exclaims. "Do you think I deserve love? I've done just as horrible things as you have."
"That's different," I roll my eyes.
"How?"
"You had no control the entire time! I chose to take Peggy's life." I confess.
"To survive!" He shouts.
I sigh, looking down at my lap, where I am nervously playing with my fingers. I know Bucky is trying to comfort me about Peggy, but I still can't help but feels guilty about it. If she were here, maybe Steve wouldn't have left. He would still be here, and we wouldn't have to put up with John Walker. I can tell he is trying to help, but it is just making me more agitated. I'm exhausted, and I really don't need to be having this argument right now with him.
"Look, I know it sounds bad, but I just can't help how I feel." I say through gritted teeth, trying to diffuse the situation.
"You know what?" He has clearly had enough now. "If that's how you feel, then why should I bother loving you?"
Bucky storms over to the bed, ripping the comforter up, and shoving his body under it, lying his head on the pillow. He faces the wall, his back turned towards me. His words seep deep into me, like a knife in the back. I know what I said hurt him, but it never was meant to hurt him. I can't help how I feel, and what I said was only the truth. That makes me think that there is some truth in his words.
"We'll talk about this in the morning." Bucky's voice is quieter, but still filled with venom.
I take a deep breathe, biting back the tears. I do the same as Bucky, get into bed, still in my clothes from the day, too tired from the activates and the argument to get changed. I lie on my side, facing Sam's bed. He smiles pitifully at me, and I try to reciprocate, but the smile doesn't reach my eyes. There is a significant amount of space between Bucky and I in the bed, and that thoughts makes the painful tears rise again, a lump form in my throat. This time I don't fight them. I let them fall down my cheeks, slipping into my temple and wetting my hair. I cry silently, not giving Bucky the satisfaction that he hurt me, but by his sudden reaction to drop the subject, I think he knew he went too far. But, that still doesn't make this better. With all of these thoughts in my head, I know one things for certain.
