Edelweiss || Bucky x Reader

Chapter Fifteen

Blue.

Blue is cold.

Oceans shine blue.

Snowflakes fall into a blanket of pale blue-white.

Cold water. Cold ice. All clear, smooth, chilled blue.

How can something so blue run hot like fire through my veins?

It's so deceitfully pretty, like it was once sapphires hidden deep underground. Nothing could be farther from the truth.

Even despite the cruelty of the serum, there's no lack of cold here. The walls, floors, and sky? Frigid. Grey. Especially the sky. Somehow it's always cloudy.

But I guess that's fitting, isn't it?

Bucky and I watch the sun as it rises and sets to keep track of the days, small etchings on the wall marking the passing time. 36 short lines vandalize the concrete.

That's five weeks and a day. With every notch I grow more and more terrified he'll break before I do. He's all that's keeping me going, and if he gives up, neither of us will last so much as a fortnight.

I know it goes without saying, but no one has come for us. And I'm losing hope they ever will.

Ah, but the blue.

I've been taken to that room so many times, I've started to lose track. I stopped counting at eight.

The first time I woke up was by far the worst.

In the darkness, my ears were ringing. And then it was silent. Slowly, I opened my eyes. Everything hurt. I felt like every ounce of energy had been leached away while I "slept." I felt dead.

Zola was kind enough to explain that was because my "inferior" cells had to be broken down and modified by the serum before it could really take effect. This took a massive toll on my body. He said the only reason I was alive was because of the strength the serum itself was giving me.

Joy.

After that it got a little better. The more serum inside me the fewer cells that need replacing I guess. But my god, the first few seconds before you slip out of consciousness, feeling like you're burning from the inside out, that's the worst part. The feeling of your body ripping itself apart is not one I'd wish on anybody.

There is little structure to our lives now, but Bucky and I have tried to make it ourselves. So we've created an unspoken routine.

The first person awake wakes the other. Mark the new day, and try your best not to think about how many tallies have already piled up. They'll bring us food, if we cooperate. You're difficult? You won't be eating.

Most days I'll be taken to the other room. They've started bringing six men— three to take me away, three to hold Bucky back.

On the others they take him. He comes back beaten and tired. The times he's gone are the most brutal. The room feels infinitely large and suffocatingly small all at once. I scream for him in my panicked states, but he's not there. The comfort of his presence, of him, is gone.

Today they took him. My begging didn't earn me so much as a glance. He told me to not interfere. He sees how little I get to eat, even when he shares his already small portion with me. He doesn't want me to keep pushing back because he knows it'll kill me. I wish I cared like he does, but he's the one who has to survive this. Not me.