For the Love of the Game // Bucky Barnes

Part Four

But you were ignoring him, and doing a very good job at it.

It didn't help that the entire team was on your side. Even Peter, who had no idea what was going on, refused to text you when Bucky asked.

He had shifted his eyes and stuttered out a meek response. Uh, I don't know, man. Steve told me I wasn't allowed to help you, and he's the captain, you know? I wanna do it for you, but I really don't want to clean the locker room again.

Bucky knew asking anyone else would've been a lost cause; if the kid wasn't helping him, the rest of the guys certainly wouldn't. Not to mention the monumental lecture he received after the party, Sam and Thor still reeling from your upset state on the ride home. And he was pretty sure Steve was enjoying his new job as your personal bodyguard in between your shared classes.

So yeah, he was on his own, but there was no way he was going to give up.

Bucky's palm pressed to the cool glass of the resident hall door, his skin leaving smudges that would be wiped away by the janitors if they were feeling generous. His gaze lifted over his fingertips as he accepted defeat—just for the day, he would come back again tomorrow—when he spotted you.

A feeling akin to rushing water consumed his chest as he took in a large breath of air, and then he was dashing behind a wall, blocking himself from yours and Steve's view. His heartbeat was erratic as he heard the doors swish open. He stared up at the ceiling when your voice resonated in the hall, his cheeks burning in unseen embarrassment.

"Steve, you can stop walking me home after class. I don't think Bucky's going to jump out of a bush or anything."

You called him Bucky.

"You can never be too safe," Steve replied, shutting the door behind you. He took a brief pause. "You know, Bucky's an idiot, but I really do think he's sorry. Guy's beating himself up over everything."

You sighed and fiddled with the hem of your shirt. "I know he is, I've read his texts. But I can't let myself do this again. I can't get all excited and hopeful just to look like a fool. I know that's what everyone's thinking."

Again? Bucky wanted so badly to ask you what you meant, but with Steve there, there was no chance.

"Hey, no one's thinking that. Bucky'd been talking about you nonstop for weeks, we thought he was all in."

He was all in.

"Well, he sure made it seem like he was," you mumbled. Bucky's heart ached at the resignation in your voice.

"I don't think Bucky really knows what he wants," Steve said, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "I think he's trying to figure it all out and you might've just been dragged into it."

Wow, some best friend Steve was. There was nothing Bucky wanted more than you—to just be around you.

"It's fine, Steve." You brushed off his hand with a small smile, moving to get your key from your bag. "I'll get over it. I've done it before."

You've done it before? Surely you weren't talking about Bucky.

"You will, I know it. Hey, I've been meaning to ask you, what happened with that one guy? The one that was talking to you after class the other day?"

Alarm bells went off in Bucky's head. You wouldn't move on that quickly, would you? Sure, the two of you were never technically together, but Bucky couldn't be alone in the heaviness that weighed on his chest, could he?

"Who, Quentin?" You asked.

"Yeah, that guy. What was his last name?"

"Quentin Beck. It was super weird, actually. He wanted to know if I'd come to some frat party with him this Friday, but I'd literally never spoken to him before."