Unhinged

Chapter Twelve

It wasn't a month. It was just about six weeks later when you fell into a pit of sorrow. Dramatic, but true. You didn't know what happened or when you became this person, but yeah, you missed him so much your heart hurt. It wasn't funny, thinking you might have a deeper infatuation with the soldier than anyone else you've ever met, and now it just felt awful. It hurt. And you hated that it did.

Alex was away again, and you invited Sam out for drinks since you guys have met up a lot since you first talked to him, and you felt close. He knew Bucky, probably better than you did, and that gave you this sense that the blue-eyed man who ruined your life in the best way wasn't too far away. Worst way. It was in the worst way. Yes.

The two of you ended up drinking and dancing at a club, letting the loud music sink into your bones, letting your worries drip off you like the sweat had in the place that became all too hot all too quickly.

Sam was the perfect gentleman, helping you leave when you had too much to drink and the two of you decided to walk the eight blocks back to your apartment because it was a busy Friday night and getting a cab seemed like a pipe dream.

It was your first weekend off in forever because you just weren't feeling up to it and Leo had been asking for more responsibility around the bar, so you figured you'd give him the most to see how he handled it. You knew he'd smash it; he a talented and charming mixer, there was no doubt about it. His only problem was motivation, but ever since he found out he was having a baby with a woman he's been seeing for only a few months; he's been anxious to take on more responsibility.

You were happy for him, over the moon really, but there was also a part of you deep down that was jealous of what he had.

Growing up, you had always dreamed of the cliché. Someone who you loved and loved you endlessly, a big house, and maybe a kid. You couldn't help it, it looked dazzling in those movies, and everyone seemed so happy. When you were about fifteen, you gave up on it because you found out you liked everybody. Bi, pan, whatever you want to call it – you never chose a label, even later on really, but you figured that was it. If it was not allowed or it was frowned upon to marry the same gender, then fuck all, you'd never marry on principle. It wasn't the laws, necessarily, because they ruled it legal and such, but it was more how you were raised.

And you loved being with people. Loved it. You didn't need the commitment or label of a relationship, never pushed or asked for it and you were happy. It was good. Then you met Dean in uni and he laughed at the idea of not having you as his. He refused to hear you out about keeping it casual because you weren't sure. Nope. A few dates and one night together apparently made you guys boyfriend and girlfriend, even if it was never discussed.

You went along with it because there was still a part of you deep down that dreamed of finding your person, getting the big house, and making or adopting a bunch of kids. And you figured you loved him too when he told you, so it was a no brainer to say yes to the proposal not long after that.

When you thought back to the first time he hit you, giving you a bloody lip, you didn't hate yourself anymore for accepting the flourish of apologies he started rattling off. You used to look back and cringe, curse yourself to hell for it, but not anymore. It was nearly five years ago, and you were barely twenty-four at the time, you were just coming out of graduating uni, practically a kid in your mind now. Maybe not so much age wise, but in the grand scheme of things, yeah, you were young and naïve and blind to what you assumed was love. It wasn't your fault, and it never would've been at any age.

After the night he came back with his friends, less than a year later, with the help of Alex and a few other friends, you started to heal. You got out of that seemingly impossible situation and now you were so afraid of it happening all over again. You couldn't fall down another hole and lose yourself to something, but you were torn because all you wanted was your happy ending.