❛ 𝐭𝐰𝐨 ❜

❝ you have always worn your flaws
upon your sleeve. and i have always
buried them deep beneath the ground.
dig them up. let's finish what we
started. ❞

BUCKY rushed to the edge of the wall, footsteps deft and silent. He felt her behind him, breathing muted by their masks.

Muzzles, it felt li—

"Two minutes, at most."

Bucky's head twitched before he fully turned it down to her. She stared back up, eyes dark and sombre. They looked empty.

He reached across his torso, using his metal hand. Unholstering his last pistol, he turned to face forward.

It was easier to talk to her this way. But that was his secret to keep.

"на моей отметке."

The quiet mechanical clicks of her weapon filled the silence for a moment before Bucky turned the corner. Her body wa close as the two assassins made their way down the eerie hallway. The florescent lights were dim with age, casting everything darker then it needed to be.

If he was honest with himself, he was terrified right now. The emotion sat tight in his chest, curling itself deep in his lungs. It was difficult to even breathe in this moment.

His breathing was on the verge of hyperventilation, but he had to force a steady rhythm.

As if she could sense his unease, Bucky watched her, enthralled, slip by and take lead.

Their mission had gone south when more than expected backup arrived at the scene. In this moment, for some reason, Bucky couldn't quite remember what was going on.

This felt like a fever dream. He had never been in this state before.

All he knew was to get out.

Get out.

Get out now!

"Rendezvous where we agreed."

Get ou

Get

Wait.

No—

No?

Bucky swallowed down more of his fear, his hand twitching to reach out. But he forced it down at his side.

No touching. No physical touching.

He watched silently as Anastasia dashed ahead, leaving him behind to his own defence. She creeped skillfully, as if this was a routine for her.

She made it down the corridor in seconds, stalling to prepare herself before turning the next corner.

He was still at his corner. Opening his mouth to call out to her, he clamped it shut when she slipped around, disappearing.

Bucky's perturbation climbed higher as he scuttled after her. His footsteps were now heavy and plodded.

There was a single shout from a man before two gunshots rang out. Bucky physically jumped; tripping over his boots before picking up his speed, pushing himself to a full sprint.

Just as he turned the corner, a person was standing there and aimed at Bucky. He lifted his metal arm to shield himself—

Bucky's eyes peeled open tiredly as he inhaled sharply through his nose. Glancing down at his hands, he realized they were balled in fists. Slowly relaxing his fin

It had been about a week and a half since their first introductions. Bucky had taken it upon himself to sleep in the bathtub. The time in between was filled with silence and tiptoeing.

Anastasia stayed to herself mostly. Not saying much to him and vice versa. What even could he say?

Pushing aside his confusion, he reached over the tub to grab his backpack. Digging inside, he pulled out another journal. He was starting a collection at this point with how many he's filled.

In such a short time, Bucky had already remembered so much of his past life. The memories and dreams came back in chunks, seeming to feel like gaining puzzle pieces one by one.

Most nights the memories didn't correlate, but Bucky was slowly starting to build his life back.

After recording the new memory or dream (he still couldn't decide), Bucky slowly lifted himself out of the tub. His body and neck ached from the awkward position he fell asleep in, but he didn't care.

Kicking his bag under the bathtub, Bucky opened the door.

At first the apartment was quiet, as if no one else lived here. Like it was his own for a moment.

But a soft pluck made Bucky glance down, at Anastasia. She sat on the bed, eating...grapes from a bowl. Dropping one in her mouth, she picked another one from the clump she was eating from.

Without acknowledging him, she held the bowl towards him. "Want some grapes? I bought them a few days ago."

Bucky paused, studying the small red fruit she offered him. When he didn't take right away, Anastasia angled her head at him.

"Ever had them before?"

Her voice was soft, and almost tired. Bucky ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth. "I think so."

With his right hand leading the way, he shuffled closer to her and grabbed a single grape from the clump.

Bucky was still surprised at the offerings of food that she provided. During this first week together, she always made enough for the both of them, instead of only herself. Although she never approached him with meals, she made sure to leave it out for him whenever he got hungry.

And allowed himself to eat.

He still had to learn that he escaped Hydra and that it was okay to want things. But most days he felt he didn't deserve it. He was sure Ana didn't feel too different either.

Anastasia watched Bucky's face with hidden interest as he ate, gauging his reaction to the flavour. She sat up, crossing her legs and leaning against the wall.

Bucky cautiously sat down at the very edge of the bed, swallowing. "It's...ok."

Anastasia offered the bowl again, to which he took another. "Some are sweeter than the others. All fruit is like that. At least the one's I've tried so far."

Bucky turned his head, casting a look towards her small fridge. "What else do you have?"

"Uh," she passed two grapes into her mouth. "Strawberries, green grapes, plums and oranges. Feel free to try anything you want. I'm rebuilding my palate slowly."

Bucky blinked, observing the small kitchen for a moment.

Anastasia stared at his side profile, following the arch of his nose.

When he glanced back at her, she turned down to her food.

"You can sleep on the couch," Anastasia threw her hand towards the love seat. "You don't have to sleep in the bathtub. I know you don't like getting up every time I have to go anyway."

Bucky stared at her for a long moment, silent like usual. Internally he agreed. It was a pain getting up, leaving, waiting for her to finish, and then return to his makeshift bed.

After a minute, he gave a single huff through his nose, nodding again in appreciation.

"I won't be here long. I-I just..."

Bucky trailed off his words, feeling it was hard to even talk. Anastasia remained quiet as he stumbled for words—

"Had nowhere else to go. Sorry for intruding."

Anastasia shook her head, "It's okay."

The two finally locked eyes again, both not saying anything. But wanting to—

Anastasia suddenly pulled her dish to her chest, rolling off the bed opposite from Bucky. As if suddenly wanting to not be near him. "I'm going on a walk. Be back later."

Bucky watched her place the bowl by her small sink. Grabbing her brown coat, Anastasia slipped out the door.

His ears rang from the silence, peering around the one room home. He stood to his feet. It felt weird to not wear shoes all the time.

Bucky and Anastasia walked through the door, him trudging after her. Before Bucky could move further into the room, he noticed Anastasia kicked her shoes off by the heels. When she moved away, he looked down, staring at his boots.

Bending down, he started to untie them.

Curiosity got the better of him and Bucky shuffled to the kitchen, not knowing where anything was.

Start with familiars. The fridge. The fruit Anastasia mentioned.

Pulling the door open, it rattled from age. There weren't much amenities to choose from, but he saw the small plastic baggies, each with their own fruits inside.

He listened to the steady hum from the machine, staring at the food. The cold air slowly breathed onto his skin, and it actually felt pleasant to him.

Blinking himself out of a trance, he reached into the nearest bag; the plums. The fruit was small in his palm. In the shitty lighting of the the kitchen, he observed it. It was a deep reddish-purple mixed with brown.

It was a nice colour.

Bucky's lips twitched a smile, palming the fruit in his left hand. He let it roll around for a moment before gripping it to eat.

Biting into it, the flesh was soft and cool on his teeth. It was a pleasantly tart and sweet taste, juice dripping down his chin.

Wiping it away, Bucky hummed to himself pleasantly. He liked plums a lot so far.

        WHEN Anastasia returned, it was nearing midnight. Bucky had thought a few times that Anastasia just abandoned him.

He told himself that it was to be expected. That he deserved it. He didn't want to be alone. Quite the opposite. But he would rather push his needs to the side than voice them.

She opened the door with minimal sound, like always. Habits. Glancing towards the couch, it was empty. Craning her head around the corner, the bathroom door was shut.

Figured she huffed in slight annoyance, turning away.

Her shoes and coat slipped off and thrown to the side before she moved for her bed. The bags she held were gently set down, careful not to break what she purchased. Grabbing a sweater, Anastasia pulled it over and headed for her balcony.

Bucky slowly opened the door, watching through the crack as she left, leaving the door ajar.

The air was cold, but she was used to the temperature. She gradually lowered herself in the metal chair. It was aged, showing the years through the paint chipping and the discolouration. Her arm leaned against the small glass table and Anastasia let out a sigh she was holding.

Her view from her apartment was perfect, she thought. It was high enough so no one could see you from the ground and there were lower building beside it—always be ready with an escape.

Pulling a pack of cigarettes from her sweater pocket, her nimble fingers clutched onto one before lighting it with a match. Breathing in the smoke, it felt heavy in her lungs and it nearly made her cough.

Only holding it in for seconds, she let it out, drifting into the air and vanishing. She held it between two fingers, gyrating it slowly with her thumb in thought.

She felt numb today. The hauntings of her Hydra days were creeping up on her, slowly reaching for her neck with its hands. Her surroundings felt dull, and felt as if she was never going to get out of this cycle of torment.

Anastasia's eyelids fluttered before her gaze lifted slightly. Without moving, she sense a large presence behind her, observing.

Without saying anything, she tucked her chin underneath the thick neckline. She rubbed back and forth slowly, not wanting to talk in this moment. Flicking the excess ash off her cigarette, she pulled a drag slowly.

Bucky watched as the smoke drifted up from her head, slowly disappearing into the air. He wore a sweater as well, still in his black jeans. He hasn't changed yet.

He could tell she didn't want to be bothered, but he felt like he needed to be with her in this moment. It was the least he could do for letting him stay in her bathroom for almost two weeks now.

"I think you used to smoke." Bucky mumbled into the midnight air. It wasn't at the freezing point, but he felt the days staring to get colder as December approached. Crossing his arms, he shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I recognize the smell."

"I think so too." Anastasia whispered, tapping her finger against it. More ash fell. She took another drag, getting easier and easier every time.

Bucky padded over, grabbing the second chair and sitting himself a few feet away from her. He sat with a curved back, letting his arms and hands fall into his lap. "Thanks...for letting me stay."

She nodded tiredly, slowly blinking. Her eyes searched the landscape, drawing along the edges of the buildings with them.

"Do you smoke regularly? Or just starting again." Bucky asked, boldly out of character.

Anastasia stilled her body, mulling over his words. Was it annoying to him? Did he dispose the smell that much? She knew it wasn't the greatest smell, but the nicotine seemed to settle her nerves when they rose.

Turning her entire torso languidly, she peered at him before down at the cigarette. "Starting. Don't like it much, though."

She still whispered, voice too exhausted to raise any higher, even for expression. He understood. Rolling it between her fingers, she suddenly flicked it over the thick balcony wall.

Bucky thought about telling her about the dream he had about them earlier. But, he just bit the inside of his cheek, glancing away.

The quiet but rhythmic shifting of fabric caught Bucky's attention. He turned, curious, finding Anastasia's leg start to bounce. They were quick and steady.

Next, soft picking. Her nails. Anastasia's focus was now on her hands, running her right index nail under her left thumbnail, scraping out the dirt that was stuck.

When her nail picking stopped, Anastasia leaned back her chair, letting out a low sigh. Her shoulders slumped forward more before she leaned to rest her elbows upon her knees. Rubbing her face a few times, Ana raked her hair back, tossing it behind.

Bucky remained quiet, watching. Her body was lean from malnutrition; her hands alone was enough telltale. She'd sunk into a lethargy, it felt. He sensed.

Licking his chapped lips, Bucky pushed through the thickness in his throat to speak, "Do you want to get coffee? There's a twenty-four hour shop around the corner."

Anastasia's expression faltered for a moment under her hands as her chin quivered. Her chest felt tight and she blinked away the tears welling. Sniffing once, she nodded before standing, muted.

It felt weird and downright foreign to ask some if they wanted something.

Bucky rose from his seat, leading Ana back into the room and handed her her coat.

The walk down to the lobby felt longer than usual to Bucky. He didn't know if it was the continued silence or if it was because Ana was in a poor mood and he didn't know how to help.

He moved forward when they were on the main floor. Grabbing the door handle, he opened it for Ana.

She blinked up at him when he did this, shock plain across her features. He stared back, not responding back. Anastasia passed through, Bucky following close behind.

authors notes;

let the slow burn COMMENCE
YESSSSSS

btw im trying to write bucky in
character as best as i can so a lil
warning in case it's not accurate

sorry if it aint accurate ;-;