"She just doesn't leave like that," James frustrated. "What did you do Y/n?"

"I didn't do anything," I defend. "Why do you have to blame me over something I didn't do—"

"I'm not blaming you, I'm asking you, those are two different things," he quips, leaning against the kitchen counter while I sit across him on the table with a cup of tea in hand.

"Why are you so concerned about her?" I questioned more so to myself than to him, but I meant for him to hear it.

"Of course, I do —"

"Oh, yeah, I forgot she's your girlfriend," I deadpanned, glaring at him.

He pursed his lips, "How many times do I have to tell you that she is not my girlfriend." I was standing now, mocking him as if it was all a joke, which made him more pissed off. "It's not funny, y/n," he warned.

"Yes, it is," furrowing my eyebrows, I kept eye contact with him. "You're a teenage boy with a soft heart who fell for a redheaded girl, seventeen years later and you're still in love, drooling over the same girl as if your world revolves around her. It's like you're a dog chasing over a cat that doesn't even meow when you groom her!"

"Stop, you're being mean," he states.

"It's the truth though," I laughed, he launched a crumpled paper towel at me. "You missed," I mock. He continued throwing kitchenware at me until he reached the knife section which didn't make him stop, and I squirmed when one nearly cut through the fabric of my shirt. "Stop it!" I yelled.

"Take it back, it was mean!" He yells back.

"You're acting like a child!"

"I've had enough of your shitless problematic issues, y/n!"

"Shut the fuck up, as if you don't have the same problematic issues about who has better asses between Winter Soldier and Captain America!" He paused realizing what I just said.

"That's not — who said that?" He says a bit offended.

"The internet,"

"No one says that on the internet,".

"Yeah, they do."

"Whatever you can't ever take anything seriously," he was about to throw another butcher knife but the door was being slammed, causing our heads to turn towards it.

Natasha gaped at the scene. Bucky's demeanor changed to a calm one, placing the butcher knife back in its place.

He cleared his throat, "where were you?" He asked pained expression on his face.

"Just outside, why, did something happen?" She asked.

"Nothing happened, we're just playing darts," I coax.

"On who?" She asked, suspicious.

"On the... dead lady," James covers up, the dead lady puts up on one of the chairs of the kitchen table.

"Wait, how do you know it's a matter of who?" Because of my statement, she strode closer.

"You killing each other," she points out.

"No, we're not, it's too easy for him, he needs to suffer my ruthlessness first —" a hand was pressed against my lips, Natasha glaring at me.

"Shut up will you," she warned.

"Fuck off," I swat her hand away. "Whatever you touched it's salty. Eugh. I just hope it didn't come down there though." Mumbling the last part she almost hit me with her baton that I realized she was holding.

"Nat, where were you?" James pressed yet again, making Natasha look at him with a glare.

"Just outside," just like earlier she answered the same.

"Why did you leave?" James added, his eyes glancing at me for a second then immediately back at Natasha's.

Natasha couldn't answer so I did, "I told you—" but James didn't even let me finish.

"Shut up I wasn't asking you," He cuts in, and I scoffed.

"Why do you have to be such a dick!" I was about to go near him but Natasha held me back by my forearm. "What the fuck is wrong with you!?" I couldn't contain it, I had so much built anger and anxiety which is bad, really bad. "I didn't do anything, I told her to leave and she left, it wasn't my fault she took it that way!"

"How else is she supposed to? She stays when she is told to leave. Y/n that's common sense—"

"Bullshit," I yanked my arm from Natasha turning to her now. "Just because I told her to leave doesn't mean she should! You could've stayed if you wanted to, but no you left the moment I told you so— you know what this is all so messed up, you are all so fucked up!"

With that, I turned on my heel and stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind me. The cool morning air hits my face as it contrasts with the fury I felt inside me. What is wrong with me? Why do I just suddenly blow like that?

I walked briskly down the streets with nowhere in mind to go. My thoughts raced, each one more chaotic than the last. I felt a pang of guilt, but it was quickly shattered as my anger lingered again. I can't work with them, what was I thinking taking them along with me, after all, they're just here to watch over me like a hawk and then report everything back to the Director. I can't trust them, because if I do then I won't be able to end what I started, I will not lose my chance, I've waited for so many years for this, and I'm not gonna wait again, not ever.

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