Stucky One-Shots (Angst, Fluff, Smut)

Your words have never left me

*this chapter contains endgame spoilers*

i don't think i'll ever get over endgame, to be honest. here's an homage to it, i guess.

words: 1.7k

If you were here beside me instead of in New York, if the curve of you was curved on me, I'd tell you that I loved you before I ever knew you, 'cause I loved the simple thought of you, if our hearts are never broken and there's no joy in the mending, there's so much this hurt can teach us both, there's distance and there's silence, your words have never left me

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Bucky knew it was going to happen, knew it from the second Steve walked toward him. There was an aching in his chest; he felt empty, hollowed out and destroyed.

"Don't do anything stupid 'til I get back."

"How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you."

He hoped his voice wasn't quivering as he replied. Despite his attempt at being humorous, the ending fell flat.

This was it: the end. It shouldn't have been, but he didn't have a choice. Steve had already made up his mind.

He knew Steve wasn't going to come back, at least not in the way he hoped, so he wasn't all that surprised when he saw Steve sat on the bench, facing the water. He was shocked more than anything, couldn't believe Steve actually did it. His best friend left.

He couldn't face it; instead, he sent Sam. Bucky and Steve didn't speak to each other for a long time after the conversation with Sam... after he gave Sam the shield. In fact, they didn't talk for months, didn't see each other in person for even longer.

Bucky felt the guilt inside his stomach like a weight. He was in an ocean, and he was drowning. Choking on salt water, it filled his lungs.

He also felt bereavement, which logically didn't make sense because Steve was still around. Steve was still alive and well, just old. It didn't matter either way; Bucky lost his best friend that day. Steve lost Bucky so many times, but now Bucky finally lost Steve, right when he had just gotten him back after decades of torture, brain-washing, and violence.

The thought made Bucky's head spin and gave him the sudden urge to vomit. His hands shook for days on end, unable to stop their trembling no matter what he tried. Closing himself off from the world, he didn't leave his apartment for months unless he was forced to make a trip to the grocery store, and even then he didn't go as often as he probably should have. He stopped charging his phone, unplugged most of his electronics, and often didn't turn on the lights. He was sick of the texts and calls from the other team members trying to check in on him. He avoided those conversations because how could he explain that he's mourning the death of a person who's still living?

Sam was the most persistent, though. Goddamn him for being such a caring shithead. The first time he knocked on Bucky's door, there was no answer. Bucky was home, as always, but he took one look through the peephole and decided to ignore the man on the other side of the door. Rather, he curled up on his mattress, wrapping himself in several blankets to shield himself from crushing reality.

He knew he wasn't effectively handling his emotions, but he couldn't help himself. He'd been through hell and back, thought that after he was finally feeling well enough again, he'd be able to live a normal, domestic lifestyle and maybe live it out with Steve. Not even in the romantic way, but the way best friends get to see each other grow and mature over the years, seeing each other reach milestones, being there for the important moments in life, and getting to cherish them together.

Bucky was aware he'd never get a girl, not after his past as the Winter Soldier, but he had more important things on his mind anyway. Back before the war, he had different goals and aspirations. He was young and dumb, naive and eager to see the world, still wet behind the ears. At this time, though, his sides were filed down into jagged edges, and his baby face was long gone. He shed it for a hard mask he had to put on just to keep the demons at bay.