Scary Love | Bucky Barnes - [COMPLETED]

8 - Intruders

That morning, Lily got woken up abruptly. Not by some external force, but by herself. Last night was the best sleep she's ever had in a long time—so good that her brain felt suspicious. She blinked a few times and turned over to see Bucky sound asleep beside her, and she almost couldn't believe it. Yet there he was, breathing softly with the calmest expression Lily had ever seen. She spent a few minutes watching his bare chest going up and down before thinking that it was probably creepy, so she shifted again to stare at the ceiling. She didn't want to get up yet. She didn't want to wake Bucky up, because then she'd have to say goodbye to him.

She was just thinking about how to not cry when the time comes to let Bucky go when he called her softly. "Lilya," he muttered with a raspy voice. He gave her a little smile when she turned to face him, holding the small of her back with his metal fingers. She shuddered and giggled because of how cold it felt. Lily touched his face gently with the tips of her fingers, trying to absorb the feel—the texture, as much as she could. She wished that they could just stay like this forever, and despite knowing that it was impossible, she kept wishing it anyway. She wished her brain could work like a camera, so she could imprint the exact details of how bright Bucky's blue eyes were, how his scruffy beard felt like on her skin, how his smile made her feel so at peace. She didn't know the world was this bright before she met him.

"I wish you don't have to leave," said the girl, still staring into Bucky's eyes as if she was drowning in them.

The man waited a few seconds before replying, "Me too."

His eyes glanced at the girl's full lips, and soon she noticed and smiled before kissing him tenderly. She imagined how it would be like when he leaves—it was a bad move since she started feeling like crying. They ended the kiss and she spent a few more seconds memorizing his facial features before she decided to get up—then she realized that she was naked. Her cheeks turned red and she flipped over, burying her face into the pillow in embarrassment. Bucky chuckled and got up anyway, even though there also wasn't a single thread on his body. She got a little peek as the muscular man bent down to pick his clothes that were scattered on the floor. She felt flushed and thought to herself, what a view.

Her eyes followed Bucky until he got out of the room and closed the door behind him carefully. She let out a loud sigh and pinched her own cheeks to stop them from feeling warm before eventually getting up and chose an outfit from her wardrobe to wear that day and went to the bathroom to shower.

Soon they were ready to eat breakfast—she made blueberry waffles this time—and sat in front of each other on the dining table.

"Can I help you with anything, though? Is there anything you need?" She started the conversation, trying to offer her help—just so she won't feel terrible just sitting at home, not doing anything for him. "What about clothes? You'll need more, right?"

Bucky thought for a few moments as he casually devoured the waffles in front of him. "Clothes and a backpack, maybe."

"Alright," Lily replied shortly and looked up to him as he continued eating.

***

"Please don't do anything dangerous, okay? I'm just gonna be out for a little while." Lily walked towards the front door. She was going to buy him new clothes and a backpack just at the nearest supermarket, since she didn't want to be apart from him for long just before his departure. "If you need anything, just ask Medusa."

Bucky nodded slowly. He gave Lily a smile as she walked outside into her car and drove away. He was still feeling uneasy about having to leave her, but he assured himself that he really needs to do it. He looked around the empty house, trying to figure out what to do; until he remembered that he still had the Polaroid picture of Lily and Simone on the table in his room. He took a pair of scissors from one of the drawers of Lily's work desk and went into his room.