Through the Dark // Bucky Barnes

24 - Solitude

I had been walking for what felt like hours. The streets of New York blurred into a mess of lights and distant sounds, the rhythm of my steps matching the rapid pulse in my chest. It was as though the city around me was suffocating, its endless energy mocking my aimless path. I had no destination. My feet moved out of habit, my mind a storm of thoughts I couldn't calm.

Where am I even going?

The question felt almost pointless. There was nowhere to go. No safe place to retreat to, not even in my own head. I couldn't go back to the Tower, not after everything that had happened. The guilt of walking out on my own when everyone had been trying to protect me—it burned in my chest. But I couldn't stay there, surrounded by people who kept expecting me to be someone I wasn't sure I knew anymore.

It felt like too much, like it had cracked something inside me. My chest tightened, a raw mix of guilt and confusion churning deep within me.

I had been down that road before. The feeling of drowning in my own mind, and all I could think about was one thing—the pills.

I dug through my bag, fingers trembling as I rifled through the pockets, searching for something that wasn't there. The pills... I left them with Dr. Banner. My breath hitched. I had been so careless, leaving the only thing that could calm the raging storm in my head. My anxiety clawed at my throat, my heart pounding faster. The pills were supposed to help, supposed to ease the nightmares, help me sleep, keep my thoughts in check. Why hadn't I taken them?

Because I'm an idiot, I thought bitterly, pushing through the overwhelming urge to scream. I stopped walking, the pressure building behind my eyes, making it harder to think.

I pressed a hand to my temple, trying to slow my breathing, but nothing worked. My vision wavered as the pounding in my head grew sharper, more insistent, like something inside me was pressing to break free. I couldn't afford to lose it now. Not here, not like this.

I turned a corner, nearly bumping into a man walking in the opposite direction. "Sorry," I mumbled, not even looking up. My feet carried me forward again, but my mind still raced backward.

I needed air. I needed space. I needed... I didn't even know what I needed.

"Genevieve?"

The sound of my name made me freeze. My breath hitched in my throat, and I turned slowly, almost afraid of what—or who—I'd see.

And there he was.

Erik.

The voice cut through the chaos in my head, snapping me out of the haze. I blinked, turning to the sound, my heart leaping into my throat as I saw him.

Of all people. I didn't expect to see him—certainly not now. He stood there, his expression unreadable, but I could sense the familiarity in his eyes. He knew something, just like everyone else seemed to know something that I didn't.

"Erik," I said, my voice unsteady. I couldn't let him see how shaken I was. "What are you doing here?"

He took a step closer, his gaze never leaving mine. "I could ask you the same thing. You look... lost."

Lost. The word hit harder than I wanted to admit. I am lost.

The air felt heavier with every second that passed between us. Erik's gaze lingered on me in a way that made my skin crawl. He took another step closer, his hands tucked casually in his jacket pockets, but there was something in his posture that made me feel like I should be on guard.

"I've been trying to reach you," he said, voice soft but with an undercurrent of insistence. "What are you doing out here, Genevieve? You shouldn't be alone."