Bucky Barnes||

You sat on the floor of your apartment, the whiskey bottle almost empty beside you. Your head spinning, emotions raw and unchecked. You hadn't meant to let yourself get this drunk, but the loneliness had crept in, and Bucky’s face haunted every thought. You had never talked about what you were, and now you weren’t anything at all. The thought of it all - how it ended without explanation - burned deep inside. You reached for your phone, typing the number from memory. Your finger hovered over the green arrow, a strange sense of longing filling your chest. Without thinking, you pressed dial. It rang twice before his voice came through, groggy and filled with surprise. “Akita? It’s late. What’s going on?”

“I didn’t have to search ‘cause I still know your number.” You slurred, voice thick with emotion. “I bet that you didn’t think that I’d remember. Just because it didn’t work doesn’t mean it’s meaningless to me.” There was a long silence on the other end, then a sharp intake of breath. “Akita… You’re drunk. What do you want from me?”

“I just want to know that it meant something.” You whispered. “I miss you, Bucky. I miss us.”

He sighed heavily. “You can’t keep doing this. You can’t just call me when you’re drunk, and expect me to pick up the pieces. I need to move on.”

Your heart shattered at his words. “So, that’s it? You just want me to forget you?”

“I need to forget you, Akita.” He said, voice rising with frustration. “You’re not letting me. You’re not letting me move on.”

Before you could respond, he hung up. The silence in your apartment felt suffocating. You took another long sip of whiskey, the pain cutting deeper than before. Minutes passed. Your phone buzzed with a text: "I'm coming over." You stared at it, confusion clouding your mind. You hadn’t said where you were, but somehow he knew. A knock came at the door. You stumbled to open it, and there he was - Bucky. His eyes filled with worry, but there was something else, something soft, behi

You sat on the floor of your apartment, the whiskey bottle almost empty beside you. Your head spinning, emotions raw and unchecked. You hadn't meant to let yourself get this drunk, but the loneliness had crept in, and Bucky’s face haunted every thought.

You had never talked about what you were, and now you weren’t anything at all. The thought of it all - how it ended without explanation - burned deep inside.

You reached for your phone, typing the number from memory. Your finger hovered over the green arrow, a strange sense of longing filling your chest. Without thinking, you pressed dial.

It rang twice before his voice came through, groggy and filled with surprise. “Akita? It’s late. What’s going on?”

“I didn’t have to search ‘cause I still know your number.” You slurred, voice thick with emotion. “I bet that you didn’t think that I’d remember. Just because it didn’t work doesn’t mean it’s meaningless to me.”

There was a long silence on the other end, then a sharp intake of breath. “Akita… You’re drunk. What do you want from me?”

“I just want to know that it meant something.” You whispered. “I miss you, Bucky. I miss us.”

He sighed heavily. “You can’t keep doing this. You can’t just call me when you’re drunk, and expect me to pick up the pieces. I need to move on.”

Your heart shattered at his words. “So, that’s it? You just want me to forget you?”

“I need to forget you, Akita.” He said, voice rising with frustration. “You’re not letting me. You’re not letting me move on.”

Before you could respond, he hung up.

The silence in your apartment felt suffocating. You took another long sip of whiskey, the pain cutting deeper than before.

Minutes passed. Your phone buzzed with a text: "I'm coming over."

You stared at it, confusion clouding your mind. You hadn’t said where you were, but somehow he knew.

A knock came at the door. You stumbled to open it, and there he was - Bucky. His eyes filled with worry, but there was something else, something soft, behi