[Stucky One Shots and Drabbles]

Blue

     
                       Three months. 

Bucky had been living with Steve for three months,  and he still felt as useful as a broken glass, no longer of use to anyone,  and if you tried to pick it up,  you'd get hurt. 

Steve had been kind to him,  always patient when he would have another horrendous nightmare and would wake up screaming, and would continue to yell until his throat would no longer allow it,  and he would break into sobs until either he passed out or his mind forced him to shut his emotions off,  like a kitchen sink. 

Eventually, he figured there had to be a better way to deal with the pain he hid each and every day other than crying into Steve's arms all night.

He loved Steve's embrace and he loved Steve,  but Bucky hated himself and didn't seem himself worthy of anyone's love,  especially Steve Rogers's, the sweetest man in the world.

So he took up drinking.  It started off light enough,  just a beer occasionally,  until it escalated.

Instead of waking up at night and lunging into a fit of screams,  he would go to the fridge and grab a can of beer,  nursing himself to sleep with the cool beverage.

Bucky found out shortly after that, that alcohol had very little affect on him.  He still drank enough to be called an alcoholic, but he quickly moved on to popping every pain reliever that Steve kept in the kitchen cabinets.

It made him feel lighter,  and what he imagined a stable person Who wasn't haunted day by day by the faces of people that he'd murdered in cold blood felt. 

It made him feel a little less like the monster he pretended daily that he wasn't.

Steve remained unaware of his friend's unhealthy habits, in fact,  he thought Bucky was doing better.

It was easy enough to believe, Bucky would swallow the mix of enough pills and alcohol to get himself into a light mood when Steve would come home from doing whatever an avenger did all day,  and Steve would think that his therapy was going well and he was on the road to recovery.

Truth be told,  Bucky had stopped going to therapy weeks ago,  feeling that alcohol and pills did him more good than a man who could barely look at him after finding out all the horrible things that Bucky had done asking him about his feelings. 

Bucky wasn't even sure how he felt about Steve.

He knew his friend didn't feel the same way about him,  as far as loving him went,  but the more Bucky thought about it,  the more he was okay with it.

He couldn't hurt Steve,  and Bucky Barnes was a bomb,  fire already running down the fuse,  and it was just a matter of time before it blew up and everything went to hell. 

Bucky thought that this exploding moment was now,  as he reached up into the kitchen cabinets, pulling out a few pill bottles. 

With a turn of the cap,  the lid came off the containers,  inviting him to get rid of his emotions with what the bottles contained.

He complied as always,  swallowing a few down dry before he heard a soft,  sad voice behind him.

"Bucky?"

Just the tone of voice that his name was said with broke his heart.

The voice was a mix of hurt,  confusion, and sadness.

His hands shaking,  Bucky turned around slowly and faced the owner of the voice,  forcing a smile.  "Hey,  Stevie. " He managed to say in a light tone.  "Thought you were at work. "