Revenge Turned Sweet

Chapter 45: Умная Девочка

Someone told me long ago, and I have since forgotten whom. I may have even heard it on a TV show, for that matter. My memory seems to be so scattered these days that I can't remember simple details that used to run rampant through my head. Anyway, I was told (or heard) that 'you never really see a broken heart coming'. Now, before I get sentimental and explain the meaning to me behind this token of wisdom.

I want to express the truthfulness of the matter. You never actually see a broken heart coming. You may feel it, you may suspect it, you may even sense a feeling is off, maybe even broken. But, the scary thing about the matter is; is that you never actually see it coming. You can feel it, you can burn for it, but you can never see when it is going to happen. Thirty seconds is all that's needed to feel the blinding pain of a broken heart. That's it. Whatever comes after depends on how you decide to handle it, with dignity or with sadness. But then again, who's to say which is which in the matter.

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"Are you sure you're okay?" Bucky asks, cradling my hand to his chest.

I let out a soft sigh, not realizing that he may wake before I do and see the destructive magic on my fingertips. I had forgotten about it. "It was makeup, Bucky," I whisper, trying to evade the cruelness of my lying. He was so frightened when he saw my hand that it had woken me up. I calmed him down the best I could before running to the bathroom and sticking my hand under cold water. Making sure to focus on replenishing the energy that Agatha may still be draining from me at this point for all I know.

When my skin color returned to normal, I returned to my bed, showing him that it was just makeup and that there is nothing to be concerned about.

Oh, but only if he knew.

His thumb caresses my cheek gently, pushing the hair out of my face. "You're so beautiful," he mumbles, sleepily.

I force a small smile on my face, wishing that that statement brought a warm and fuzzy feeling like it used to. The words sunk like a brick in my chest, only hurting me. I've only now realized how heartbreak could feel. I thought I had felt it before when I left Russia, but that was something else entirely.

That was grief, beyond grief. In my mind, grief differs from heartbreak. Because not only is the person you're missing still alive, but in a way, you are grieving them. Or who they used to be. Sinking my face further into my pillow, I grumble, "why did you have to wake me up so early?" Changing the subject is good. Humor is good. It will help these early feelings go away.

The corners of his lips perk up, almost into a smile, like he finds me amusing. "I didn't," he remarks, making me glare at him. "But seeing your big eyes pop open was very interesting to watch."

I scoff at him and roll onto my back. "You're being uncharacteristically talkative this morning," I raise a brow at him. "Anything I should know?"

He shakes his head slightly. "Go back to sleep," he says just above a whisper, "I'll be here when you wake up."

The words sting me. I don't know why, but they do. I feel tears creep into my eyes as he pulls the comforter over my shoulders and hugs me to his chest. I relish the warmth coming from his body, easing the anxiety crowding in my chest. "You promise?" I ask, hoping he didn't notice the slight crack in my voice.

I feel him press a kiss on my forehead. "I promise."

I close my eyes and try to avoid the wandering thoughts in my head, running rampant around my brain like a carousel. However, five words keep haunting my mind. Being played on a loop every time Bucky's chest rises and falls. Agatha's words.