Hidden Love ~ Stucky

27

Bucky wasn't weak. Surely T'Challa didn't think that was the case. He knew that Bucky was working out and adjusting to his body, getting used to having to do things with one arm, finding ways to cope through the bad days. If anything, Bucky was anything but weak.

But.. as always, Bucky's mind went to the worst case scenario and put the idea into his head that he was weak and that he couldn't fight his own battles.

The one thought turned into two thoughts, two turned into three, and before long Bucky was deep into a spiral of self belittlement and staring at his reflection in his full body mirror.

He was shirtless and staring with teary eyes at his stub of a left arm, sucking his lower lip between his teeth. Just the sight sent him into harsh sobs.

The scar that ran right across the stub was disgusting, tying in the rest of his small body to give himself the look of weakness T'Challa could see. Or what Bucky thought that he saw. Bucky felt truely horrified, staring at his skinny and fragile self. Sure, he'd been working out for a few weeks, but barely anything had changed. He was still fucking skinny, he was still only with one fucking arm, he was still his weak and feeble self.

Bucky cries out and throws the mirror sideways and onto the floor, falling to his knees at the sounds of glass cracking and his heart beating loudly into his ears. Bucky truely thought that he was over this. He thought that with the constant workouts and runs, he would get used to himself and feel happy, that he could last until his prosthetic was ready.

But no. He was just his normal weak self who couldn't handle the fact that he was too weak to be able to get over the fact that he had lost his arm.

Sobbing harshly into the hand that was cupped over his lips, Bucky fell against the wall, staring over at his cracked mirror. He was such a bloody fuck up. A crybaby. Worthless. Weak. Unimportant.

He stays like that for a few moments, sitting, staring at his cracked reflection, taking in deep breaths before finally removing himself from the floor and hiding away under the covers of his bed.

*************

Bucky enters his drama class the very next morning with the biggest grin that he could muster, faking any sense of happiness to not worry his poor friends who had been put through enough shit already. They didn't need to know what had happened last night.

Wanda was the first to notice Bucky, then Natasha, and soon the girls were by his side in an instant, leaving Pietro and Clint to themselves. "Bucky!" They cry happily, wrapping him in an overly careful hug. "How're you feeling?"

"Better," He whispers, breaking away from the hug and plastering on a fake smile. "Sorry I'm late again.. what're we doing?" Bucky knew that he should talk just a little more enthusiastically, but he couldn't be bothered. He really couldn't.

Both girls noticed his down mood but decided to not question and put it down to what happened yesterday. Wanda opens her mouth to respond once she had composed herself, when their teacher walked in through the doors holding a large pile of papers.

"Good morning, class." Mrs Anderson calls out to her students, clapping her hands together. "Today I'm finally going to be giving you your groups and your scripts for your melodrama performance!"

The whole class cheered in delight, Bucky sending his friends fake grins as they jumped up and down slightly in excitement. The three snuggled in together, biting their lips in anticipation, desperately wanting to be in a group together.

"Bucky?" Their teacher asks, smiling over at the boy. "You're in a group with Natasha, Wanda, Clint and Pietro." She walks over to them, handing over their scripts and blocking her ears at their screams of delight.