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- - -
She got the first one right after breakfast on a random Thursday morning. She was walking out of her kitchen with a plate when she was startled by a knock on the door.
"Jesus, fuck," she cursed under her breath and set her plate down on the counter.
What asshole is knocking at her door at - she cast a quick glance at the clock - eight in the morning? She opened the door to find...
"Steve? W-... What are you doing here?"
"Hi," he breathed, clearly a bit uncomfortable. "I hope I didn't disturb you. I'm sorry for showing up unexpectedly, but it is nice to see you. I have something for you."
"Uh..." her face contorted in utter confusion at the entire situation. "You have something for me?"
Out of his back pocket, he pulled out an envelope. She raised a brow.
"This."
Slowly, and still very confused, she reached out and took the envelope from him.
"What is this?"
"It's-just... I don't even know what it says, but it's for you. To open. And read."
No offense Steve, but what the fuck?
"Right..." she trailed off at his awkwardness.
But then her brain shifted gears.
"How is he?"
Bucky.
Right away, Steve understood. "He's alright. He's getting on fine, helping around and doing work."
"Good..." She nodded, staring blankly at the doorframe, "... that's good."
Steve shifted his weight from one foot to another.
"He misses you, ya know?"
Her head snapped back to him. "He does?"
"Lots. And he talks about you all the time."
She fidgeted with the envelope in her hand, turning it over in between her fingers. She tried not to let the acid guilt rise up in her throat. She couldn't tell if she was getting nauseous or if it was just the shame.
Her voice was quiet and meek. "I miss him too."
Another few seconds of silence passed by before someone spoke again.
"It was really nice to see you again," said Steve, genuinely, "but I have to get going."
"Okay. Yeah. It was nice to see you, too. Stay safe, okay?"
"I'll try," he smiled. Then his eyes softened. "You stay safe too. Can't have anything happen to my best friend's best girl. Alright?"
A soft smile bloomed on her face to match his mellow gaze. For a moment the guilt subsided and was replaced with gratitude. Gratitude for the fact that, Bucky had someone, and that that someone was Steve.
"Alright."
With that, the door closed, he was gone, and she was by herself again. Once alone with her thoughts, her attention was redirected towards the envelope in her hands.
She inspected it. The only thing written on the envelope was her name on the back of it. In not-amazing-but-legible cursive. It was messy, but in a way that made it sort of charming.
She gently tore it open.
A sharp inhale. It was a letter from Bucky. A handwritten, signed - pasted in an envelope and sent across the sea - letter.
Immediately after opening, she wished she didn't. She said they couldn't contact each other; evidently Bucky found another way. Even so, any form of communication had inherent risks.
However, rational thoughts were soon diminished. She stared at his writing, this little piece of him, and her chest filled with so much love.
Y/N held the letter like it would burn up in her hands at any second. Like it was delicate, and she needed to protect it.
She smoothed her thumbs over the paper, thinking about how this paper, at one point, was in Bucky's hands. She closed her eyes in an effort to feel some sort of connection from touching something that he touched.
Then, she plopped down on the floor, straightened her back, and began to read. It was a page and a half and he signed it:
"Yours,
Bucky"
And he meant it.
She only got halfway through the letter before she began to weep. There were a million things she wanted to tell him but couldn't.
"Oh, sweet boy..." she whispered. "I miss you."
When Bucky wrote the first letter, he was almost giddy. He thought it was hopeless but then he realized he wasn't limited by technology. Paper couldn't be tracked or recorded, especially when he sent it with Steve the next time he visited... after Bucky sat down with him and explained everything.
"So, you want me to drop this off in Belgium? To Y/N?" Steve had asked.
"Yes."
"Is she supposed to give me one back? Like, do I have to play mailman now?"
"I... don't know. Hopefully? I want her to but, and I don't know if she will. But even if she doesn't, at least she's reading it. She doesn't really have anyone back home... I just want her to know that someone's thinkin' about her."
Steve frowned, seeing the concern that his friend had, the care. He could see just how much she meant to Bucky.
"I'm sorry, Buck," he sighed. "I wish things were easier for you. You deserve to be happy. I don't know why the universe doesn't seem to want to let you."
Solemnly, Bucky nodded. "Shit happens. It's not ideal, but... we gotta work with what we got."
"She'll be okay, you know? I know she's alone, but I'm sure she's probably more worried about you."
"Yeah..." Bucky looked off. "I miss her."
The second part was quiet. Steve looked at his friend, worried. Bucky's hair and beard had gotten longer and rather unkempt. He seemed tired and rather glum.
She saw the second one late on a Sunday night. When she turned off the TV and headed to bed, she saw it in front of her door. Someone had slid it under. Well, Steve had slid it under.
When she read the second letter, she was sitting at her desk, in her room. She had tucked the first one away in one of the desk drawers. Safe and sound. She was glad to hear from him, but sad he couldn't hear back.
The second letter was two and one-third of a page long, and he signed it:
'Always,
James Buchanan'
His use of the nickname she created made her smile, but it was bittersweet. It was very strange to feel so much love but so much sadness at the same time. So much endearment, but so much longing. If she was honest with herself, the overwhelming duality of her emotions could get quite tiring.
Still, just as much as the first letter, she cherished the second. Before placing it on top of the first letter in her desk drawer, Y/N picked up a sticky-note, a pen, and pasted it on top the letter.
On the note, she wrote, "I love you, James Buchanan."
It was like her own little way of writing back. But it was not the same.
-
It continued like this for a while. Bucky would write and send letters, Y/N would read them and grieve the fact that she couldn't reply back.
Sometimes Steve would knock and say hello and hand them to her, and other times he would just slide it under her door. On a very few number of times, he would come in and they would have coffee. She would try her hardest not to say something like 'tell Bucky I said...' or 'let Bucky know that...'
She had to remain cut off from him, as hard as it may have been. She felt awful. Especially when Steve would mention Bucky seeming down or not talking as much.
In Wakanda, Bucky wasn't doing much better.
His days seemed to become longer, and a lot less enjoyable. He spent far too much time alone.
But writing the letters was the highlight of his day. It was almost as if he was sitting right with her, telling her about anything and everything. But it wasn't the same. She wasn't there and they weren't together.
He wasn't sure whether or not he should be surprised that she never sent anything back. He was sure she got them, as Steve reported. And he knew how serious, how scared she was about their entire messy situation. It wouldn't really be a shock for her not to respond. Regardless, it only added to his despondency.
Having too much time alone with your thoughts can let insecurities leak into your mind. Bucky started to think, started to wonder, started to doubt.
What if she was just throwing the letters away when she got them? Setting them aside like they didn't matter? Like he didn't matter...
What if she didn't even want to hear from him? Didn't want to talk to him?
What if she didn't want him in her life anymore?
Thoughts like this started to haunt him. However, he continued writing, and continued sending.
At first, he told himself that it was to make sure Y/N didn't worry about him, so she was caught up and knew 'someone was thinking about her.' But, at some point it became more of a way to self-soothe - to cope with the loneliness.
Maybe it was a good coping mechanism, maybe it wasn't. He didn't know; he would've asked his therapist if she wasn't gone. If he wasn't alone.
Bucky missed her. God, he missed her. All the time. One day, he walked all the way back to the shelter they hid out in when T'Challa was dethroned.
He sat on the floor, between the two beds, and remembered how she used to make him breakfast; and how she would quietly hum while she did it. He remembered her stretching before going to sleep and how she helped him make the beds. He remembered how her voice sounded when she woke up and the way her silhouette looked in the dark.
During that time, everything around them was so complicated and messy and dangerous: a fallen regime, a new king who stole the throne. But in that bunker, for a short time, they had this little bubble of wonderfully simplistic domesticity.
Bucky had to make it back before anyone noticed he was gone. Prior to leaving, however, he pretended he could hear the echo of her laugh reverberating off the walls of that room. Their room.
-
"Bucky!" a familiar voice called.
Bucky turned, pausing from the yard work he was doing. Manual labor is a good way to distract yourself, especially from emotions you'd rather not face. And he was always happy to help anyone in Wakanda.
"T'Challa," he greeted. "How are you?"
"I have been better. I have bad news... and a favor to ask."
He nearly owed his life to the man in front of him. His freedom. T'Challa took him in and helped him when (almost) the entire world was against him.
"Anything."
They talked and T'Challa explained. And explained some more.
Then soon enough, the king left and came back with Okoye and a handful of Wakandan guards. One of them placed a big metal case in front of Bucky, and opened it to reveal the arm. The arm. He thought of her when he saw it. And he sighed.
Y/N wouldn't want him to, he knew that. But she wasn't there to tell him. And he had grown so hopeless. What was the point of being careful for someone he'd never see again?
"Where's the fight?" Bucky asked.
"On its way."
- - -
OH LORD WHATS GONNA HAPPEN?!!
WHAT DO U THINK YALL?
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