partassassin

[partassassin]

Reflection

First post on this account, enjoy a Bucky angst post!<3

!!ARTWORK IS NOT MINE I HAVE PERMISSION FROM ARTIST TO POST. @muffinshark !!

Warnings⚠️: DEPRESSED BUCKY. Mentions of severe mental thoughts including suicide, murder, and other ideations. Read at your own discretion.⚠️

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Bucky had always felt broken. From the day he was “saved” from his duties as the winter solider he’s never seen anything but a monster, a demon in the light.

It took him months for him to look himself in the mirror, just once. It takes him days in between each sight of himself for the flood of unknown emotions to numb.

The mirror in the bathroom always stays covered, unless he needs to see himself. See the body that he’s been in for longer than anyone should ever have to be. To see the arm, that he bears every day. To remind himself of the scrapes, cracks, and damages to not only his arm, but to himself.

If looks could kill, he would’ve killed himself by now.

Once, Steve caught Bucky in his mirror daze, eyes glued to the scars—the memories. He tried his best to aid. To let bucky use him in an attempt to soothe the pain. Yet no matter how long him and Steve talked about his emotions, or how long he clung to Steve, breathing fast, and head buried into the blonde's neck—the feelings never faded.

Steve would always rub his back, kiss his head, tell him dumb stories from his days before he got Bucky back. He would try anything he could possibly think of to help. He would gently scratch bucky’s back, the movement a gentle reminder, bucky wasn’t alone.

Yet, all bucky could do is feel engulfed in the loneliness surrounding his head. His heart. His soul.

Bucky would glare at the person reflected in the mirror, almost as if he was ready to attack, to murder, to destroy. That was all he was good for, all he was made for.

The cracking of his metal arm is constantly ringing in his ear. Like a clock ticking, reminding him no matter the time that's passed, he will never be able to change the outcomes he created.

Some days he can’t look at Steve, he can’t see the face of someone he so badly wants to protect from this side, he can’t do anything but hope Steve understands.

Bucky doesn’t mean to scream at Steve when he walks in on those days. He can’t help the agonizing pain that is constantly overflowing in his veins, throbbing, stabbing, killing, and taking over any other emotion he could possibly have—as if he’s being electrocuted again.

Steve’s heart breaks every single time it gets that bad. Everytime no matter what he does, it doesn’t feel like anything is getting better. No matter how badly he wishes it would.

Steve would spend hours sitting on the couch, staring at the ceiling. He would just listen, hoping to hear Bucky’s breathing calm, to stop hearing the way bucky mumbled about himself. The strength of a soldier being demolished over the small grumbles of the man he is so deeply in love with.

With every insult that is muttered, or every tear that is wept, the two brake just a little bit more. Steve could do nothing but wait and hope that bucky would let him in. He couldn’t push bucky’s healing— he wouldn’t.

No matter what control he had, Bucky never could shake off the feeling of being a robot, of being something that was nothing but a weapon. There was a man staring at him in the reflection, but the code never quite computed within the mechanics of his mind.

As the metal cracks more and scratches appear where there once was none, Bucky can't get rid of the poisoning emotions. The guilt bubbles up often, a acidic taste in his mouth as the memories flash.

Nobody dares to ask or probe when he disappears for days on end. No one questions when Steve eventually disappears at times too. They may share concerned glances, or quiet mumbles of prayer for the two, but no questions. There were none to be asked.

Bucky had been freed. Physically.

The physical restraint was broken. Into a world where he didn’t know how to function.

With a mind that wasn’t truly his own.

Bucky was freed into the light, but he was never liberated from the dark.

His reflection always would remind him of that.