"Buck would never want to hurt you."
Well, that had been a lie, hadn't it? No, he took your already broken heart and ripped it to shreds in front of you. Like he literally pulled it from your chest, showed it to you and then stomped on it. You felt like you'd never forgive him.
"You ruined everything! Literally everything, Y/N! Flipped my entire life upside down! Why? Why in the fuck did you call me, huh? On my goddamned wedding day! What were you thinking?! You were supposed to be standing beside me for fuck's sake! Supposed to support me! I trusted you!"
You couldn't breathe. You'd never once seen him this angry. This upset. This torn up. He'd never raised his voice to you. But then again, you'd certainly never done anything like this to him either. And there was absolutely no going back, no way to fix this. And it made you sick. You'd lost your best friend.
"I can't even look at you," he spat. "I can't. I walked away. I gave up every fucking good thing in my life. Because of you. Because you just had to call me and lay all of your shit on me. On what was supposed to be the biggest day of my life. I gave up the woman I love. Gave up a life. A family. Because. Of. You. I'll never get that back. It's gone."
He barely looked at you, his hand on the doorknob. He shook his head. Tears streamed down your cheeks. His too. Out of anger. Frustration. Pain. Confusion. And yours was just pure, unadulterated pain. Pain that you had just lost everything you loved too. He walked out without a word.
Out of your life.
****
Five years.
Bucky had moved on. Dated again. Tried to fill the void. But it was pointless. That day still haunted him. The things he'd said to you out of hurt. He hadn't meant it, not really. But he knew when he walked out your door that he had sealed his fate.
He asked Becca about you occasionally, just to make sure that you were doing well. He'd never really gotten over you, but she assured him you were okay, never really giving him much detail. You'd asked her not to. The day Bucky walked out, you cut the cord.
But he missed you. There was an ache in his chest, a void that couldn't seem to be filled no matter what he did. So instead, he threw himself into work, keeping as busy as he could. Anything to not think of you. But you just kept coming back. Invading his thoughts and dreams. Imaginary scenarios where everything has gone differently. That he'd made a different choice.
Bucky loved you. He missed you so badly that it physically hurt him. But he'd walked out. So he had to let go. Five years. It was time.
****
You sighed softly, adjusting your dress and makeup. The mirror showed the truth, the pain that was still evident behind your eyes. Five years of it. Five years of missing the love of your life. The only man you'd ever loved.
You'd cut him off, completely and totally. It hurt too much to hang onto something that was never going to happen. And his last words to you had cut like the sharpest knife. You felt like you'd never truly recover from them. The raw pain you felt. Pure ache.
You grabbed the bouquet off the sofa and braced yourself. Five years came to a head today. You'd see him again. Five long years. Today, you'd have to see Bucky. And it scared the hell out of you.
****
The music swelled and your heart was in your throat.
"It's okay, it's going to be fine. I promise."
Becca looked stunning. She should have been focused on herself, but instead she worried about you. She had ever since she'd asked you to be her maid of honor. You'd been unsure, but she'd be adamant. You were like a sister to her. She leaned on you for everything.
"He knows you're here. He's had time to prepare himself, Y/N. He's a big boy. He'll live."
Five damn years.
****
Bucky couldn't keep his eyes off of you.
The pale gold dress hugged every curve. Your hair curled over your shoulders just right. Your red lips were so inviting. How in the hell had he never kissed them before? Where was his mind?
Your eyes avoided his and he could admit that it stung. But he deserved it after the way he spoke to you, the horribly painful words that came from his lips. He hadn't meant a word of it, but he knew he couldn't take them back.
You danced with Sam at the reception, laughing. Carefree. Happier than Bucky ever remembered seeing you. Smile on your beautiful face. You glowed in the light, like some kind of ethereal, supernatural being. Like an angel, he thought.
He wanted to say something, anything. Ask you to dance maybe? A chance to hold you. Feel you. Show you how painfully sorry he was. Make up for a lost five years. Could he? Was that even possible? No. It wasn't,
Bucky had lost the chance.
****
You stepped out into the garden, the night air cooling the bare skin of your shoulders. The stars shone brightly, reflecting in your bright eyes. Willing the tears away, the ones you'd been fighting all day, you tried to think of something else. Anything but Bucky Barnes.
Anything but the painful stab in your chest.
He'd been watching you. You felt his gaze. His hesitation. His need to say something to you. Like it was on the tip of his tongue. Like he was desperate to do something, anything to get close to you. Your heart hurt so badly.
Five years.
Five years of sheer pain. The ache of loss. The loss of your best friend. The man you leaned on. The man that held you together. The man who you trusted with your entire life. The man you needed. Wanted.
The man you loved.
You still loved.
God, it hurt. It hurt so much. Raw, pure, awful pain. The kind that burnt. Like some kind of raging fire that would never die out. It was always there. Just beneath the surface. Like an itch. Like a cancer.
You needed him.
****
He stood in the doorway.
You were illuminated by the moonlight. Clutching yourself. Arms tight around your chest. Shaking, shivering. No, crying. You were crying. And fuck, he wanted to hold you. Hold you and make it better. Hold you and take the pain away.
He wanted to tell you he loved you. He missed you. He couldn't breathe without you. That he positively ached for you. That part of him was missing. The best part of him. His other half, the one that made him whole.
He wanted to hold you so badly that his own tears spilled over.
Could he? Would you let him?
He took a cautious step forward. One after another, slowly gathering his courage. He needed it. Needed you. Needed to lay it all on the line. Say everything that had been building up inside his head. Every word.
Every word for five years.
His hand reached out carefully, brushing over your bare shoulder. So soft, cool from the evening air. Your sobs ceased. Tensed. Hesitant to turn around. He knew you knew it was him. Finally, you turned slowly, tears streaming down you face as he smiled down at you.
"Hello, sweetheart."
