Secretive - Bucky Barnes

31 || Aftertaste

[Nova]
Sunrays wake me up the next morning, illuminating my eyelids to a point there is no denying of the day having set in. Grumbling, I shift underneath the thin, holey blanket, turning and stretching as if that would turn the sun off, let me sleep for another few hours. Not that I needed it, but I enjoyed it. Escaping the world, shutting it down for just a few hours a day, making me forget about all the chaos.

I run my right hand through my hair, strands of it hanging lose in my face and tickling my skin. 

A shock rushes through me, and in the next second, I sit up straight, the bed cracking underneath my movement. I feel stretched. My hair is open. Not braided.

»Oh, good. You're awake.« a gentle, very familiar and extraordinary light-mooded voice echoes through the small, rotten shack. Suddenly, I am more than happy to have pulled the blanket up with me, hiding my otherwise completely naked body. »Good morning.«

Turning my head, I can see Steve sitting in nothing but his blanket on the table, which – to my surprise – is carrying a lot of food. With the sight, the smell of fresh rolls, cheese, marmalade, honey and several kinds of fruits rush into my nose, and yet the centre of my attention is the man patiently waiting for me. 

Steve's golden hair is a ruffled mess, standing into every direction and, for the very first time, seems anything but styled. Cute, though, admittedly. Down his neck, I identify then and now a light red spot; hickeys that did not heal entirely for now, and down I go, I can see scratches all over the exposed part of his chest, of his belly. Feeling embarrassment colouring my cheeks, I turn away my gaze, especially from his insecure expression; a total contrast to the determination that filled his low voice to now.

»Can I-... Can I ask you something?« carefully he asks, and I can feel his blue eyes running over my small figure in the almost broken bed - I wonder how it stood against the both of us, can see his own slight blush without looking.

Instead, I focus on the wooden planks the small room is made of, them almost entirely wet and infecting the air with the scent of decay. »Sure.« it comes out, raspier than I expected. 

Hearing is chair sliding above the ground, my heart does a summersault. I do not dare looking at him, knowing he is on his way right to me before the mattress shifts underneath his weight, bowing down right in my front. In the corner of my eye, a motion, like he was lifting his hand – I am quick to turn my head, just before his fingers could brush the skin of my chin. His hand sinks.

»First of all, Nova, I don't-« he swallows, as if speaking itself suddenly became a burden. A wall built up around his eyes, a curtain in front of the maze of his soul, hiding the giant mess right in the back of his heart. Yet, his pupils grow the moment I lay my gaze on them. »I don't want you to feel bad or embarrassed or anything. I know« his head lowers, the forming smile on his lips sadder than Mufasa dying in the Lion King, »you don't feel the way I do. It's fine, really. And we don't have to tell anyone about this.«

His right hand, the one he does not support himself with, twitches, like he holds back a motion. Eyes running over and over along the outlines of my face, of my jaw, of my cheekbones, my nose, mostly, my lips. When he speaks again, there is nothing in there talking but a broken heart, although he beforehand assured me it was okay, everything that happened was okay for him. »You regret it, don't you?«

The cerulean colour of his eyes is so light, it is almost transparent. Especially with the light falling in, the softness nearly crumbles together my own heart, something pulling in my chest, clenching fist around it and trying to rip it right out through my bones. I do not want to hurt you, Steve. »There's no regretting in doing something with full will and consent.« And nonetheless, it currently feels like I cheated on James. Although we are not a couple anymore.