~ ⚡️Everyone is born with a number on their arm.
That number, is the amount of steps left to take before you meet your soulmate.
But what happens when the numbers reach zero as you stand before the very person you were created to destroy? ⚡️ ~
A S...
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~ 𓆙 ~
Leonora tossed and turned all night.
She felt like a terrible person.
Why had he kissed her?
And why had she kissed him back?
She didn't like Bucky like that. She was sure of it. He was caring, loyal and attractive sure, but he wasn't her soulmate.
The kiss hadn't felt Earth-shattering like every time she'd kissed Steve. Time hadn't stood still, her heart hadn't fluttered out of her chest and she didn't feel love.
All she felt was horrific guilt, but she was mourning a ghost at this point.
Didn't she deserve to be happy?
Or was she now destined to be alone forever.
Would Steve ever return?
Should she be worried for him?
Her head spun with unknown possibilities and questions she was incapable of seeking answers to.
She wonders what happens when someone loses their soulmate, like Pepper with Tony, or Bruce with Natasha. Was that just it then? Or did you find other soulmate-less people to spend your days with.
Just because someone was your soulmate it didn't mean you were destined to be together forever. Leonora was quickly learning that.
And Bucky didn't have a soulmate, either that or he'd never have confirmation unless he felt it when he happened to meet the right person at the right time.
She groans as she pulls a pillow over her face, pressing down hard, wanting to smother herself and wake up to a different reality.
It had only been a couple of months since Steve had gone, she was still grieving in the acute phase, but the nature of him going made it hard for her not to feel anger towards him and his supposed betrayal.
She knows she will have to face Bucky eventually. He's the closest thing she's ever had to a friend, besides perhaps Natasha potentially, and she doesn't want to lose that. Bucky made her happy, and she was sure he needed her as much as she needed him.
Leonora tiredly changes her clothes, running a brush through her hair and braiding it off her face as she'd always been taught to do. It was a ritual now that she did so automatically, all these little routines from Medusa still engrained into it.
