Bucky Barnes Imagines

Five Years

Dust. Clouds of the stuff hung like a thick fog. Impenetrable. You choke on the thick mass as it swirls against an invisible wind. The same as each nightmare before it, a clearing appears, and there he stands. Bucky. Your Bucky. As you move to reach him, an indescribable force prevents you from taking any further steps towards him. Looking down, your feet encapsulated by rubble and concrete, you use all of your strength to break through to no avail. Bucky calls your name, voice laced with pain, and when you meet his gaze, you watch as Steve takes a hold of him. Fighting harder against the force binding you to the ground, you scream in anguish as Bucky fades to dust in the hands of his best friend.

Each particle of dust in the air falls like snow to the ground, delicate, yet dark all at once. As soon as it falls, the rubble at your feet crumbles away and on uneasy legs you sprint to Steve's side. With only such a short space to go, your foot catches on the ground as you plummet downwards, hands extended out in front of you. Steve is too slow in his attempt to catch you as you hit the ground. You catch yourself with your open palms that dig into the ground as you grit your teeth. But it is then you realise, that underneath your hands is a pile of dust. It coats your palms, like sand on wet skin. You can't help but stare at it, your body frozen as you stay unmoving. This was all that was left of Bucky. Everything good in the world had been taken away from you, as instantly as snapping your fingers. Steve wraps you in his arms as you break away from your stupor, panic running through you as you desperately try to wipe away the grey matter that refuses to leave your skin. A promise falls from his mouth as he vows to bring him back, whatever it takes.

You wake with a sharp intake of breath. Your body trembles, coated in a thin sheen of sweat. The sheets are strewn across the bed, a clear sign that you were moving around throughout the duration of your short slumber. Before Thanos, you could sleep for hours on end, for a whole day if you wanted to. But now, you're lucky if you can even manage an hour. Steve had insisted, upon your return from Wakanda, that you move into his apartment. You had politely declined the offer, although you loved Steve like a brother, you couldn't bare to be under his sorrowful gaze. A gaze that seemed to fuel your sadness. Although, at the compound you had Natasha to keep you company, with Steve visiting on occasion. It was such a lonely place now that there was nobody to fill the kitchen or living area. Silence now occupies a majority of the building.

Trying to calm your racing heart and uneven breathing, you prop your arms across your raised knees, resting your damp forehead against your skin that was plagued with goosebumps. Glancing at the clock on your bedside table, it reads 00:04, making it approximately forty minutes since you fell asleep. A new record.
Knowing that there was no hope of getting anymore sleep tonight, you throw your legs over the side of the bed, your feet meeting the cold floor that sends a shiver through your body. You discard the damp shirt that clings to your body, one of Bucky's that you had unknowingly stolen from him, the smell of him long gone from the material. Composing yourself you strip and step into the shower, letting the warm water wash over your body, easing the aching in your muscles.

On your arrival back to the compound, one of the first things you had done was shower, and you had broken down as soon as the water touched your skin, Natasha finding you sobbing on the tiled floor. Since that day, she had become your closest friend. She taught you everything she knew, within reason, from cooking to dancing. As a result of your prior training and experience with the Avengers, you discovered quite quickly that you were a natural for ballet. Yet, the upsetting aspect of this realisation, was that the only person you wanted to show off your newfound talent to, was gone.

After showering, you dress comfortably, since moving in your wardrobe has consisted mainly of tracksuit bottoms and shirts that are just a little too big for you. You glance back to your bed and contemplate tidying it before opening your door and leaving. It's not like you would be sleeping in it any time soon. The corridors are dark as you travel down the polished floor. You have no need to alert F.R.I.D.A.Y to turn on the lights when you could navigate the halls wearing a blindfold. The kitchen is as pristine as ever, the moonlight filtering through the windows, eerily illuminating the room.
Nights like this were Bucky's favourites –especially if it were a full moon lighting up the night. Taking a throw from the sofa, you wrap it around your shoulder, bare feet padding on the tiles as you approach the large window looking out onto the lake that sits north of the compound. Bucky had spent many sleepless nights teaching you about the constellations that painted the sky. It is nights like these that you miss him the most. The constant pain and sadness of everything Thanos had destroyed was tiresome, not just for you but for everyone. Everyone that remained at least.
Instead of wallowing in self pity again, you decide to busy yourself with something other than sitting staring at the stars, thinking about him.