I'm An Addict

Creep

Authors Note: Trigger Warning?

He's ignoring you.

You're unsure as to why, maybe he's just feeling sick, or long nights have him resting in bed as he slumbers quietly. The reasons for his absence are piling quickly, stacking like files as you fumble for his excuses when in reality you know that he's just a Gangster.

It's what he does.

Whether it be the constant gnawing at your stomach, peeling away at your patience and happiness as the days slipped by, or the neon sign flashing ominously outside the club, owner missing without a trace, a ghost among the light. You were afraid it was the beginning of the flawed relationship so many had foreseen. You'd only just started to date, what the fuck does this mean?

Bucky kept many secrets. He was a man of mystery, a person of no known past or future, he had practically created himself to be a myth. People didn't know what to believe about him, and it only boosted his self esteem as well as the reputation he worked so hard to achieve.

Maybe you were dialing the wrong number, or he sold the club to a different owner. But the line went directly to his telephone, ringing loudly as you waited on the other line with teeth chewing at your fingernails. And the club was hosting the upper class parties, Mr Rogers smiling awkwardly to you as the elegantly dressed men and women seeped into the building at night. No, Bucky was ignoring you.

If it wasn't for his childish behavior, you wouldn't be mulling over the last two weeks like they were a mistake. He was the one who was playing games. 

For obvious reasons, the lack of his communication flared a rebellion within you, teenage angst bubbling inside and covering the underlying hurt. Four days no contact, parents unsurprised and peers spreading the news of his disappearance caused the unneeded emotions to build bonfires within you.

Rarely had you seen it rain in the city of crime, the droplets of water hitting against the sidewalk. Umbrellas were pointed upwards towards the white clouds, and people lumbered slowly as they walked home at the busy evening schedule. 

Father ahead of you, he speaks loudly of the recent stories in the paper, voice carrying over the crowd of people as you ignore him. The chill air is pressing against your exposed arms and cheeks, goosebumps rising as you push through people with hands wrapped firmly around the umbrella. Rain beats against the concrete beside you, splatting and wetting the ground. 

Another shoulder is shoved into your frame, teeth clenching as you cast your eyes downwards. Bucky would have them pinned in seconds. But Bucky isn't here, and you're your own person. Petty things like shoving shouldn't bother you, and it doesn't, his absence does. The small action reminding you of the Gangster who's lips haven't met your own in over ninety six hours. 

It's supposed to be another evening with the family, and you'd been walking the streets looking for groceries for the past forty five minutes. Father glancing over his shoulder every so often to see your melancholy state, he would smile lightly to you, offer to pay for a jaw breaker as you promptly denied, and would proceed onwards.

Hopefully the rain drowns out your sorrow.

"Honey, think your Mother will want some meat for dinner tonight?" Your Father asks suddenly, grasping your hand as the pair of you pause in front of a butchers shop. Humming, rain continues to fall from the sky as you shrug. "Possibly, she switches from vegetarian to her regular diet so often I can't keep up." You joke lightly, feet scuffing against the pavement as he nods.

"So I take it as a yes, but only a half pound?" He questions, glancing down towards you. "Probably, oh and try not to get the one man who has greying hair, he overcharges." "Who says?" "Mr Rogers tipped me off on all the local business men-" "Who don't work for him. Sure, I know what the guys up too. I'm gonna get my damn meat, and eat it without no damn Gangster in mind." He states.