peace [bucky barnes]

13

TW: brief mention of violence / guns

Five days.

It had taken Bucky five days before he could stand to see her again.

Over the course of the week he'd probably averaged about 2 hours of sleep per night, usual nightmares with the regular cast replaced with haunting premonitions that woke him up screaming. In every single one he was with Eden, laughing and joking around, until something inside him snapped and he ended up hurting her in some way. His hands found their way around her neck, he grabbed a knife from the block on her kitchen counter, pulled a gun out from his pocket, any potential torture method his brain could conjure up from the Winter Soldier scrapbook had a feature. He had become so frightened of seeing anymore of the gruesome images that by day 3 he'd given up on trying to sleep altogether.

On the night of day 4 he had been laying on his sofa, watching an old rerun of a show with a laugh track that always seemed to be playing on one channel, and in his exhausted state he'd fallen asleep involuntarily. When he jolted awake, yelling and thrashing so violently against the cushions that he crashed onto the floor, he couldn't stop himself from breaking into heaving sobs. Ragged breathing filled the empty room as he slammed his forehead onto the splintered wood, heart smacking against his ribs so fast it made his chest hurt. He cried and cried and cried, curled into a ball with his face cradled in his hands, until his voice was hoarse and his body ached from convulsing with sobs.

Since his chat with Dr Raynor he'd been walking around the city as much as he could, scared if he was alone in his apartment with his own thoughts too much he'd lose his mind. He hadn't spoken to Eden, hadn't spoken to Sam, hadn't spoken to anybody; he couldn't face it, so weighed down by his own burdens he couldn't imagine holding a conversation with anyone. As he laid hyperventilating against the cold wood, he realised he was doing exactly the wrong thing, his isolation only making everything inside of him worse; in trying to protect the last bit of his sanity, it was slipping faster and faster through his fingers.

Once he'd managed to calm down, he stumbled into the kitchen, grabbing his phone off the side, and with shaking hands managed to type out a text to Eden.

<B> im sorry. can you please meet me in the morning in prospect park? ill explain everything.

Despite the angry, paranoid screams from the soldier inside his head, he knew he had to see her again, his current reclusive strategy proving itself to be a clear failure. The anxiety as he waited for her to respond kept him awake, biting the skin around his thumbs while he sat on the floor propped against the sofa. He did everything in his power to pass the time quicker, running laps around the tiny apartment, doing push-ups and jumping jacks in the empty space of the living room, even tidying some of his clothes away at one point.

At around 4am, still with no response from Eden (not that he was surprised in the middle of the night), he decided to head out to the park anyway, the crumbling brick walls driving him insane as he ran out of things to keep him occupied. As he stepped out onto the dimly lit street, birds tweeting in the quiet, his phone finally buzzed in his pocket, him almost dropping it in his haste to read who had messaged him.

<E> You're in luck, Saffy just woke me up trying to catch a spider, otherwise I wouldn't be up til midday. Does 8am work for you?

Bucky couldn't help the smile that spread across his cheeks at her reply, imagining her groggy in bed typing out her message. The anticipation of seeing her, albeit very nerve-wracking, was enough to keep him going for another four hours, basking in the early morning in the park as the rest of the city began to stir.

When Eden was up properly, they arranged to meet  by the lake, a relatively easy spot where he wouldn't have to spend ages searching for her. At 7:50 he was practically there, hands clenched into tight fists in his pockets as he strolled down a pathway leading to the lake, stomach churning with nausea at the thought of seeing her again. Strangely the feeling was a mixture of excitement and pure fear, part of him hoping her face would bring him the relief he was aching for after so much torment, another part almost certain he'd buckle under the weight of his own guilt the second he saw her.