May 9th, 2028

Solitude is something he had always craved, but now that he had it he wasn't so sure. He's completely and utterly alone, and he's the only person to blame.

I fucking hate you, is something that had crossed his lips.

Kate is only here because she needs parents, not because she actually wants anything to do with you, he had screamed.

I'm glad your family was fucking snapped, he had sobbed.

He's pretty sure that was the last straw.

Bucky doesn't know what cruel god had allowed him into the lives of Laura and Clint, but he knew it was an unfair one. They were nothing but good to him, and he despised them for it. They did more for him than Wanda or anyone ever could. Cleaned for him, cooked his meals, washed him. Held his hand, told him the truth.

And still he'd said all those things.

It was painful, watching them go. Knowing they wouldn't come back. He'd finally broken them down, shown them who he really was. He was someone who didn't deserve friends like Laura and Clint.

He was crushing them, holding them back. Ruining their family.

He gave them the push that they needed, freeing them of the burden that is himself.

Sam had reached out a few times, even stopped by his apartment, but Bucky had screamed at him, threatened his sister, and that had been enough to stop Sam from ever trying again. Good for him.

Sif stopped showing up in the mornings, but he was still able to get his alcohol, and he was happy that she hadn't taken that away too. Maybe she had rekindled things with Thor, maybe they'd made up.

He hopes they did.

Curled on the floor of his shower, Bucky holds his knees to his chest, the tears mixing with the water and feels himself tremble.

This is all he deserves. The bottom of the barrel. He had thought that was Hydra, the brain washing, but he'd been wrong. He's an alcoholic, but his super soldier body refuses to give in, refusing to let him succumb to the addiction.

The people in his life didn't deserve to be around that. Not even her.

He loves them, all of them, with his entire being, but he wants them to think the opposite. Let them think the worst of him; that way, they won't mourn when he's gone.

May 27th, 2028

Bucky is so inebriated he can't even attempt to workout. Not that he's been working out these past few weeks anyway, but at least the venture had been made. He slouches on the front door, his feet wobbly in his view, and he lurches, feeling the vomit rising before it happens. Spilling the little contents of his stomach onto the sidewalk, he presses his face against the glass of the door, the cool feeling soothing against his hot skin.

The 24hour gym is completely empty, and he's grateful no one is around to see him like this. It's pathetic really, and he sniffs, eyes trying to focus on the tv. He can't hear it from outside, but he squints, makes out figures on the screen.

Lead is lighter than his blood when he sees her.

Dressed in white, Wanda is ethereal. She looks nervous, her hands twisting on the arm of Clint as he walks with her down a stretch of carpet.

Bucky is breathing harshly as he reads the headline outloud.

"Avengers...renew vows in..m-much anticipated w-wedding renewal."

Clint pats the hand that is on his arm gently, handing her over to a patient and handsomely-dressed Vision. They smile at one another and lace their fingers. Bucky can't hear but their mouths move as a priest opens his bible, eyes only for each other. The priest begins his sermon, and the camera panels over the crowd.

Now sitting with his family, Clint smiles brightly at them, his arm wrapped around his wife as their three children look on. Kate sits behind them, her face gleeful.

Bucky spots many other faces he recognizes, Sam and Sarah, Bruce sitting behind Pepper and Morgan.

His chest aches when he realizes he hadn't even been invited.

He's glad he hadn't been. He isn't sure he could've taken it.

Heavy tears clog his throat, blurs his eyesight. He weeps for nothing and for everything. Sobs for his broken heart and broken life. Sobs for empty promises and ruined moments. Sobs for the girl he loved more than anything, the girl that couldn't love him back.

May 27th, 9:58AM

He stirs as he sleeps, his forehead banging on the glass door as he jolts awake. He had passed out, slept against the wall, and his body ached. He hears quiet mummers, a few snickers as he cracks open his eyes.

"Uh..you ok sir?"

Bucky snaps up, his head pounding. Three men and a woman in suits surrounded him, staring curiously. The woman had a cellphone pressed to her ear, speaking quickly into her device.

He pales, and scrambles to his feet.

"Sir, I think you should wait here," one of the men warned. Bucky wants to melt into the floor with embarrassment. His sick is a few feet away, dry and multiple shades of green.

This is really what his life has come to, it's worse than his nightmares.

Bucky shoves passed the suit-claded individuals, stalks to his bike. He drops his keys once, twice, hands shaking, pressing it into the ignition. The ride starts off bumpy, and his vision is watery as he tries to focus. His only thoughts are on her.

She should've been up there with him, not the other guy.

He had taken care of her, loved her despite it all.

The idea of him and Wanda exchanging vows, buying a house, raising a family, made his heart sore, and then dive bomb as it would never happen. He clenches the gas harder, speeds up.

He wishes he could hate Vision. The android had taken her away from him, had stolen his one chance; but he knew that was horseshit. Vision hadn't done anything but exist. He hadn't made empty promises, he hadn't lied. Wanda did.

And Bucky still couldn't find it in himself to hate her. Not really.

The wind is wiping so fast it chills his bones. It's exhausting, the physical and emotional toll of being in love with her, and he wants to out-run it. His bike gains speed, and his teeth chatter.

It had been so long since he felt good, or at least didn't feel bad. He needed it to stop, just for a moment. He just needed a break.

The wind roars in his ears but its silent in his head. Quiet moments where there's nothing but the high pitched squeal of emptiness is all he desires, the only solace he has; he drives faster.

He swerves cooly around a slower moving vehicle, lane splitting between the left and right. A driver flips him off, honks their horn. He ignores it.

His pulse is pumping through his ears, the adrenal coursing quickly, and he feels nauseous hit him but he doesn't slow down.

Moving around another car, his eyes flit from the road to his hands. The same hands that used to hold her, caress her face. They're useless now.

Another car honks and he grunts, speeding up to split between the lanes.

Bucky wasn't sure if he should go faster. He didn't really want to, his cheeks ached and his head was pounding. But the world had treated him harshly and there's only so much he can take.

He had tried, he really did. Gave it his best shot. But he had acquired happiness, and it seemed like it wasn't supposed to be. Because of the after, after the dust settles and everyone moves on, his heart can't heal.

The liquor had never been a part of his plan, not really. But it had been so easy, had hurt so little.

A horn sounds from his left and he swerves hard, narrowly avoiding a Nissan as it slowed down to avoid him, its horn blaring.

"May I give you a hug?"

"I'll take that as a yes."

He would kill to hold her right about now.

Eyes stinging, Bucky bites down on his cheek hard, tastes the copper as he accelerates. He stops trying to weave around cars, instead lane splits completely.

"I was selfish, I wanted you for as long as I could."

He wonders where they'll go for their long-overdue honeymoon. He hopes it's somewhere nice, somewhere warm so she wouldn't be cold. Somewhere without cameras so he can't watch it on the news.

"I love you, I do," she gasps, eyes rapid. "Don't do this."

Cars honk as he wizzes by, his handlebar clips a car's mirror. He can't tell what time it is, but it must be early.

A brand new day. His last new day.

When the semi honks, he doesn't hear it. Barely feels himself lose his balance, doesn't really register that he's airborne. He's light as a feather as his bike collides with the truck, the sound of breaking glass and crunching metal is muted below him.

Maybe if he gets high enough, he can watch her fly away with the love of her life. She's holding onto Vision's hand, the both of them smiling, and Bucky waves at her sadly, his muddled senses not registering that he's descending.

He hopes she's happy. It's all he's ever really wanted for her; he just thought he could give it to her.

And he was wrong.