You're Losing Me

"And I wouldn't marry me either, a pathological people pleaser, who only wanted you to see her..."

"How long are you going to give me the cold shoulder for?"

You sigh deeply, trying your best to relax your tense shoulders, "I'm not ignoring you. I just don't have anything to say to you."

He steps off the elevator, holding the door for you, "You haven't had anything to say since the party."

Walking down the hallway together, the sound of your muted footsteps is the only thing that cuts through the tense silence.

You unlock the door, stepping inside your apartment with Bucky trailing behind you. You peel off your jacket and kick off your heels, "I don't want to fight tonight, alright? We'll talk in the morning when we're not upset."

"So you are upset?" Bucky probes, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it on the couch.

"Bucky, I already told you, just drop it."

You barely recognize your own voice, it's so soft, so defeated. There isn't an ounce of anger, it's all been replaced by exhaustion and vague humiliation.

You flick on the lights and look around your apartment. You remembered the feeling you had when you first found this place.

You thought it was perfect. Bucky loved it so much.

You loved the way the light poured in from every window. Bucky would pull you into his arms on lazy mornings, hold you, sway you around the room, twirling you around. Laughter used to fill this room. Love and warmth used to fill this home.

You can't remember the last time you danced anymore.

Now, the room looks lifeless and stale as though all the color was stolen when you weren't looking.

"What could I have possibly done this time?" Bucky demands with exasperation dripping in every syllable. "I barely spoke to you at the party!"

You bitterly scoff, "Well, that would be your first clue."

"Don't be a smart ass," Bucky chides.

Your voice becomes sharper. It saddens you that the only thing that breathes life into you is an argument, "I asked you to drop it."

"And I'm not going to."

You straighten your spine. Giving yourself a moment to wind yourself up like a discarded children's toy, when you speak, you've finally come back to life, "Fine! You want to talk, let's talk! I heard what you said, when Steve suggested that we might be getting engaged next. You fucking laughed!"

"Really? We're doing this again?" Bucky drops his hands in annoyance. He didn't think you both had recovered from the last time this subject came up a couple weeks ago. You obviously reconciled, but he'd be lying if he said he hadn't noticed a hint of tension lingering in the air. He shakes his head, "We're really going to have this fight again?"

You take another deep breath, softly shaking your head.

Your heart was still on the mend from the first time you'd talked about marriage to Bucky.

You convinced yourself that you'd just caught him off guard that night a couple weeks ago, he didn't actually feel that way.

You'd talked about this when you first started dating. You were clear that you weren't interested in a relationship that would go nowhere. You wanted a future.

Before moving in, you reminded him of that too.

A year and a half of you two living together, more than three years together. You watched your friends move in with their significant other, get engaged, get married, have families.