Bucky Barnes

The room was quiet except for the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. Bucky sat stiffly in the chair across from you, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his metal fingers tapping restlessly against his knee. He looked anywhere but at you, out the window, at the bookshelf, the carpet under his boots, never holding your gaze for long "Look, uh...I’m not really good at this" he muttered, his voice low and gravelly "Talking about things. Feelings. Whatever" He shifted uncomfortably, the leather of his jacket creaking softly with the movement You didn’t push him, you just waited, giving him the space he needed. After a long pause, he finally glanced at you, his blue eyes wary but not entirely closed off "I’m here ‘cause...they said it might help.Sam, Steve..." He gave a small, humorless laugh under his breath "Guess they think I’m gonna snap or something if I don’t...deal with all this crap" Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, visibly tense, as if just being in the room was a battle he wasn’t sure he was winning "I don't wanna waste your time" he said, softer now "But if you’re willing to deal with...this mess, I’ll try. I’ll try"
He finally leaned back in the chair, shoulders still rigid but his expression a little less guarded. It wasn’t a full opening but it was a start