𝟕𝟎 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬

𝓭𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓪𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓻

TW: DARK THEMES. JUST READ CAREFULLY :)

BUCKY

That night I went for a walk in the city. It was late. It was cold. But I didn't care.

I walked through a mostly deserted Times Square.

I still wasn't used to all the lights. I didn't like it. It was too bright.

I miss the old New York City. The non-polluted New York. But I suppose I'll have to deal with it.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out.

8 missed calls from Steve.

I turned it off and shoved it back where it came from.

Time passed me by. And before I knew it I had practically walked the whole length of Manhattan, and the sun was rising.

I took a cab back. The only words I spoke to the driver: "Stark tower" and "thank you" felt odd in my mouth.

I smiled as I left the car on the main road outside the tower.

It felt draining to smile. I felt tired.

"Buck where the hell have you been I've been calling and calling are you okay? I've been out looking for you I couldn't-"

"I'm fine." I cut him off with a timid smile.

"A bad night?" He questioned and we both knew the deeper meaning behind what he meant.

I simply nodded, and he held a hand on my back, walking towards the room we shared.

"Steve. Doesn't it worry you? I asked him, and he turned his head.

"A few hours ago I was standing. On Brooklyn bridge. Ready to jump. But I didn't, because I know that tomorrow I could fine fine. I could feel perfect. I feel fine now." I rubbed my forehead.

"I don't think I would ever do it. You know I wouldn't. I have too much to lose. But it's like- I'm not me when I'm like that. And it's like I don't know what that other me is capable of."
I couldn't comprehend it all. I couldn't wrap my head around it.

I do not have multiple personality disorder. I am James Buchanan Barnes.

The doctors said my PTSD took form in bipolar disorder. I didn't know what it was- they had to explain.

Steve researched. He would present me with support groups, forums, websites, help.

I would thank him. Truly I was grateful. But I didn't want any of that. I didn't want any of this.

I'm trying to work myself out.

Y/n helps. But she's never seen me on a bad day. I have never pretended around her.

In the 1940s I didn't struggle with this. She's only ever seen happy me. Will she still want me? Will she still....will she still talk to me?

Y/N

10:56 pm

"Y/n have you heard from Bucky?" Steve asked me, sounding out of breath.