Fading Through Memories

54

You jolt awake again, gasping as your heart races. Your bloodshot eyes running all over your room until you find baby blue ones looking down at you. His soft touch on your shoulder making your body stiffen.

"I'm—Sorry, you were crying." Bucky clears his throat, brushing his knuckles over your wet cheekbones.

You nod, hiding your face between your hands. The skin that was under his touch burning with the need to feel him again.

"Are you okay? Something hurts?" His worried eyes zeroing on your bruises.

"I'm okay." Snapping the words.

Mixed feelings overwhelming. From anger and annoyance to pain, sadness and regret.

Regret for calling him, for not being able to spend another night without him, for seriously hurting him years ago.

Annoyed for his painful words towards you, the fights, the mistrust and the stupid decisions.

Sadness because you miss him, because you miss his touch, the way he and only he can calm you down and make you feel like everything is fine.

Pain when remembering his screams in your memory, how he begged you not to hurt him.

"Listen, I—"

"I shouldn't have called you last night." You blurt out.

Bucky nods, running his fingers through his messy hair.

"I think you should leave." You look at him regretfully, trying to contain your tears and your desire to apologize to him.

He nods again, wiping a hand down his face. "I just want to say how sorry I am for the way I've been with you, love." His voice breaking. "I don't know what's happening to me and I said some hurtful, very hurtful things I wish I've never said. You don't deserved this version of me and It has nothing to do with you." Tears shining in his tired eyes. "I'm so sorry, baby and I'll give you all the space, time and anything you need." Clenching his fist on his sides as your throat knots. "I'm here if you need me. Anything from me, I'm here, baby. I am." Turning around to leave, his hand reaching for the door handle. "I'm just so fucking sorry."

I miss you.

A single tear rolls down your cheek. "Okay."

More tears falling down your cheeks at the click of the door being shut. Sobbing and whining at the painful memory.

Varenna, Italy 1997.

"Это ваши цели, избавьтесь от них и сообщите нам. Свидетелей нет." A female voice says through the ear piece.
(Those are your targets, get rid of them and let us know. No witnesses.)

"Да сэр." a male voice responded.
(Yes Sir.)

He began to load his weapons, placing a small pistol on his right hip while on his left hip was a long row of pocket knives. A mask that completely covered his face, his clothes covering every inch of skin that could be exposed.

Once ready, he began to walk, leaving a small room of an apartment, the building was old so the walls were all dirty and worn. The man found his way out of the building, walking down the alley where he had been instructed to follow.

The street was practically empty if it weren't for Him and a couple, they walked happily hand in hand down the street, not knowing what awaited them.

The couple stopped in front of a small house as did the man.

The house was beautiful, with dark wood and a brown roof with a beautiful smoking chimney peeking out. A small lake in front, reflecting the sunset in the crystal clear water, making a relaxing sound. Trees surrounding the house, leaving a space between the leaves to let the sunlight illuminate a small garden full of flowers.