4:27am

Chapter 4

3 weeks later
Bucky's nightmares weren't getting any better.

They were getting more vivid.

His scars weren't healing.

He didn't give them a chance to.

There was still that damn voice in his head.

And it wasn't his.

He was self harming more than ever.

His thighs represented a blood soaked canvas.

His sucidal thoughts were getting stronger.

And nothing was silencing them.

And to top it all off, he was in love with his, very straight, best friend, who seemed to be going on so many missions he barely saw him any more.

He had started lashing out in the night, due the nightmares, and because of this, and his feelings for Steve, he moved to his own room. 

After discreetly asking Tony to soundproof the room, and getting some approving looks and a couple "already back in the game, eh solider?" he was able to scream himself awake from the nightmares freely.

Life was going fine for Stevie. He was frantically trying to ignore all the feelings he felt for Bucky, and did so by throwing himself into his work. 

They had brief conversations in the morning, and they had watched a few "must see" movies together, but other than that the two hadn't seen much of each other.

 It was driving Bucky insane.

He was constantly overthinking everything he had done, wondering if he had done something wrong. 

It was one of his better nights, mental wise, and he had curled up on the sofa with a coffee/ice cream drink that was godlike, and watching Harry Potter, when Steve stumbled in, bloody and bruised.

"Holy shit Steve what happened?!" Bucky yelled, jumping up and slamming his drink down.

Helping Steve to the sofa and he ran off to grab the first aid kit. He delicately took of what was left of Steve's shirt, blushing and trying to look at the wounds, not the abs and and the pecs and the oh god, focus Bucky!" He quickly cleaned and wrapped up the wounds. 

Tugging delicately at the thread, he had used to stitch up the worst of the cuts, he snipped it and gently pulled a clean t-shirt over Steve's chest. 

To his credit Steve hadn't cried out at all during the whole procedure, but he squeaked in protest when Bucky picked him up bridal style.

"Shut up punk." Bucky muttered

"Hey! I'm injured!" Steve protested weakly

"Who's fault is that?" Bucky retorted, opening the door to Steve room.

"What's your problem?" Steve coughed.

"My problem? My problem is that I've barely seen you in 2 and 1/2 weeks and now I do and you're all injured.

 You've been going on so many missions I hardly see you any more! Steve, I still need you to help me through this new life! And you left me! You promised you wouldn't! But you did!"

Bucky dumped Steve onto the bed and breathed heavily. Steve looked at Bucky in slight awe. Bucky's hair had fallen in his face and his mouth was parted slightly. 

His eyes held some sort of wild anger and power. Steve wanted nothing more than to kiss the jerk senseless, but Bucky's words had finally hit him. His mouth fell open.

"Bucky. Bucky I'm sorry. I just... I don't know. But I promise to be there from now on, ok?" Bucky looked at him. He slowly nodded his head and shuffled off to his room. 

Steve desperately wanted to follow him, but he heard the door to Bucky's room open and close and then silence. 

Sighing, he shifted around till he was comfortable and wished that Bucky was lying there next to him. 

Bucky, however was in his room, with a blade dragging across his thighs like usual. But Steve didn't know this. 

Bucky made sure of this. And when Bucky cried out and screamed himself hoarse because the nightmares, Steve didn't know this either. 

Steve just knew that Bucky really liked his spinach, bacon, egg white omelettes and coffee.

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Sadish chapter, I'm sorry! But I love it still, I feel like it's the best one far. Thank you for reading! Comment your thoughts!! Good bye my silver nuggets, and stay safe!