Catch Me If You Can | Winter Soldier x reader |

CHAPTER 22

Every moment afterward provided a foreign, unrealistic sensation. Every breath from that point on seemed labored and unfelt. It was like your entire world was moving in a purposeless manner. Colors remained washed out. Motion was weighty. Sound was unfathomable and throbbing. Everything around you felt agonizing.

You were having an existential crisis.

Moments like these, people would resort to a hushed place with someone they held dear to their heart. Some place where the loved one could reassure the victim that they were a large aspect in the picture. But considering you were a screw-up case, you decided to direct Mr. Chunky Chocolate to the bar.

The probing music, the clammy bodies, the maladroit dancing— all of it made you feel smaller than you already were. It made you feel sick. Barnes advised that you just went back to the warehouse but you were too stubborn and wanted to down a few more shots of tequila. The ex-Winter Soldier tried to keep his reassuring appeal while he shouted over the horrid dirty tunes. "How are you feeling?" He inquired, leaning into you as he finally found himself a spare stool beside you.

You scoffed, roughly putting down the glass. "Oh what, you're my psychiatrist now?"

"No, I'm your friend." You definitely noticed he had a hard time saying that out loud. But in all honesty, you enjoyed the fact that Winter wasn't being a dïck by shoving it in your face that you were still playing with his heart. He had the decency. He understood that your parents and the lies in the Ambassadors were the only things your head was wrapped around. "Anyways, why are you giving me the cold shoulder anyways?"

In any other occasion, you would have laughed at the irony. But not today.

"I'm not alright? Just give me a few minutes to clear my dàmn head."

"That's what you've been saying for the past two and a half hour. This designated driver thing is really not appealing to me anymore."

"Oh, I'm sorry!" You hollered in the most venomous, sarcastic tone ever. You could feel a few eyes crawling over to your direction. "I wasn't aware of the fact that my pathetic life was a burden to you. Please, do get yourself a glass of vodka or any other shït you wanna down—"

"(Y/n), I really don't understand what you're upset about. Everything's alright—"

"Alright? Of course, everything in the world is alright!"

"I don't see how it wouldn't be alright." Barnes retorted, his face tightening in discomfort. He was starting to get annoyed by your bullshït like he used to. You have to understand that there's a certain limit you can push people's patience to.

"Right. Cause Mr. Optimistic sees the good in everything even if there's none."

"There are plenty of good things in your situation. You've just buried yourself in a hole and you're not willing to see beyond that." Bucky said, making stark emphasis with his hands as he banged it against the table.

You scowled at the man, slapped a few dollars on the countertop before storming off towards the car. Barnes really hated this whole catch-me-if-you-can thing. It was like he was doing everything in his power to keep you together and by his side, but everything he did, went downhill. And for some retarded reason, he kept chasing after you like you were the golden ticket. When in reality, you were nothing but a shït-faced, hormonal, lunatic teenager who either wants to fück him till your knees don't work or kick him straight into a shack on the other side of the planet.

And when Buchanan got to the van and saw you sitting there, completely avoiding eye contact with him, he realized the only possible reason he had of chasing you was because to the smallest of Planck length, he was infatuated by you. And staring at your salted cheeks, bloodshot red eyes, snotty shirt, he couldn't help but finally admit to himself that one thing.