Maybe I Don't Have a Reason to Smile

2

~~(Y/N) POV~~

"I don't believe them." I stated firmly. Like heck, he probably wasn't even dangerous. He seems so chill and kinda cool too. And shy. He just seemed shy.

He scoffed, "You should though. You can rant about how I'm not dangerous, but I am. I'm even telling you that, and you don't listen." He stated exasperatedly.

"Well, what makes you dangerous?" I stepped closer to him to make him feel as if I wasn't scared of him.

"Stay back." He scooted farther away from me, "I don't want to hurt you."

I stopped moving towards him and stood my ground. We stayed there in silence for some time as we watched the twinkling lights of New York City.

"But, what makes you so dangerous?" I repeated my question as the words freely escaped my lips.

"I'll tell you one thing, (Y/N). I've been through a lot during my 101 years of life. I've seen things, done things that I wished I hadn't. If you utter those words, I swear I become someone else. It takes over my mind and plagues my thoughts. I become controlled by the hands of people making me go against the people I care about. It makes me a monster." He whispered, his voice cracking. The last of the words were spoken and it was swept up by the wind.

He smiled as if it pained him, "It's OK though. I've grown to know who I am and what I am. There is nothing anyone can do about it." His eyes glistened lightly with unshed tears.

"Maybe I can help?" I shrugged my shoulders at the offer I made.

"I don't think so." He said and moved a bit closer to the edge.

"You're going to hurt yourself." I pointed out, my voice full of worry.

"I'm accustomed to pain." He said, his voice distant.

"That's not necessarily a good thing you know." I said.

"Comes in handy when I'm fighting a constant war against the world and myself." He said and I instantly regretted asking.

"S-sorry." I mumbled, my voice just barely over a whisper. "Bucky. Is that short for something, or no?" I asked, mostly trying to change the subject for him. Little did I know that almost everything about him is linked to his past.

"My name is James." He told me and I smiled.

"I like that." I told him. "But, how do you get Bucky fro—"

"You don't." He said, interrupting my sentence.

"Then where did the nickname come from?" I asked wondering how on earth he got that name.

"James Buchanan Barnes." He told me. "Steve gave me the nickname when we were kids." He said and smiled softly as if he was remembering something. I took a deep breath and sat down next to him. I expected him to freak out or something, but he didn't.

"Friendship is truly a wonder." I said with a sigh.

"Why aren't you afraid of me?" He asked. I took another deep breath.

"Because I believe there is more to you than the Winter Soldier. Because you are Bucky. Bucky isn't the Winter Soldier. Because you are what you make yourself to be. You are who you are and I believe in you, James." I said. (Crap that was deep) He smiled slightly.

"You should smile more. It suits you." I said, placing my hand on his. It was his metal one, but I didn't care. I didn't think he would hurt me. He got tense at the contact, and it sparked curiosity in me.