#she’d start crying and following me everywhere at about 10pm telling me it’s time for bed

[sourwolphs]

Like an Animal - Bucky x Reader (6/8)

Read on Ao3 (for better interface + formatting)

Summary: Reader is an enhanced Omega kidnapped by Hydra and trapped in a cell with Alpha Bucky Barnes. Tags: A/B/O, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending Warnings: Rated M, Self-hating inner dialogue  A/N: I ended up writing this chapter from both Reader's and Bucky's perspective because I couldn't choose between them, and had to puzzle piece my favorite parts together. 

A few hours after Steve left, Bucky found himself dozing slightly on the couch in his dark living room. He’d long abandoned his book on the side table, leaving an old black and white rerun of The Lone Ranger on mute on the TV, flashing light across his stretched out form.

When he’d first come back to the compound, before Shuri had removed the words from his brain in Wakanda, he’d spend many nights outside of his body, doing nothing just like this— the sound of the TV too overstimulating, words on the page swimming away from comprehension, unable to focus on anyone or anything for long. Instead, he’d just sit and drift, letting his mind go blank. Sam had called it “disassociating”— whatever the fuck that means. He hadn’t been like this in a few years— this out of himself— not after Wakandan’s powerful therapies helped him escape some of the more acute terrors of his brain.

He was startled out of his state by a soft knock on the door. He felt a flash of irritation at Steve’s overprotectiveness, before his hackles raised as he scented Y/N of all people faintly through the door. He jumped up in a panic from the couch, his socked feet silent on the floor as his eyes took a rapid inventory of his apartment. There was a sweaty pile of gym clothes on the other side of the couch that he first hurled into his closet. Then, he flicked on the lamp and the soft kitchen light, quickly looped his fingers through a few mugs cluttering the coffee table, and dropped them in the sink before he approached the door.

Without allowing himself to think too hard about why she was here— Did she figure out the gifts? — or take a deep breath— he opened the door.

Despite his held breath, her scent hit him all at once— a rush of spicy-sweet peppermint, the crisp, clean smell of snowfall— strong enough with its source right in front of him that it burned his nose a bit on the inhale. Bucky swore his heart skipped several beats.

She was dressed in a cozy-looking, quarter zip pullover and a comfortable pair of black joggers, just like the kind that Nat wears— functional, clean lines, hugging her form in all the right places. Her hair was slightly mussed, as if she’d just gotten up from the couch after a nap. It was so cozy, so domestic, it made his heart ache with renewed want. But underneath her sweet peppermint smell lay the warm and familiar newspaper-ink scent of Steve. Paired with her cozy, slightly disheveled state, it was as if she had just extricated herself from his arms to show up at Bucky’s door.

Bucky’s inner Alpha fought between roaring in possessive rage and wilting in cowed rejection, but he forced his expression into careful neutrality.

They stared at each other for a moment, neither speaking. Her facial expression looked stricken, and Bucky realized how weird he was being. He’d puffed out his chest without noticing— all Alpha instinct and posturing at the whiff of Steve’s scent— and he quickly readjusted, folding his form into a more relaxed lean against the door.

What do you say to the gorgeous Omega you violated, avoided for a month, and then left creepy gifts to when she shows up at your door at 10pm? Before he could mumble out something to break the awkward silence, she interrupted the panicked swirl of his thoughts.

“Hi,” she said. Her voice was high and tight, like she was trying not to inhale. Even Steve had said his apartment smelled. He felt shame curl tight in his gut, and he had to stop himself from closing the door to shut himself and his depressing stench away. “I’m sorry, I came here to talk to you about something, but I’m feeling kind of— dizzy?” Y/N’s expression looked dazed, and she started to sway a little on her feet.

Bucky’s Alpha instincts immediately kicked into overdrive, urging him to scoop her into his arms, hold her tight, snuggle her into his den until she was healthy and clear-headed. But now that she was here, the rational part of his brain was much more terrified at the possibility of scaring her off. Act. Normal.

“Do you want to sit down?” he said, swallowing hard as he opened his door further. Inviting an unbonded Omega into an Alpha’s den was toeing the line of socially acceptable— at least when he was growing up in the 30s— but she didn’t seem fazed by the invitation, nodding and slipping inside. He gestured towards the couch, giving her a wide enough berth that she wouldn’t feel caged in— surrounded by his scent as she was— and she chose to sit in the same, still-warm spot where he’d just been lying, sinking back into the couch cushions. Bucky felt equally satisfied and pained at the thought that her smell would cling to his favorite spot for weeks. He plopped across from her in the armchair where Steve had been just hours before, aiming for nonchalance.

“Sorry,” she said again, waving her hand next to her head. “I think I’m just… overtired or something.” She yawned, kitten-like. His Alpha roared inside him, fingers twitching with the urge to reach out, to touch, but he held himself perfectly still.

“It’s okay,” he said. “So…” He trailed off, clearing his throat awkwardly. Bucky Barnes, ladies and gentleman. God, he was a fucking loser.

Y/N took a deep, steadying breath, bracing her hands on her thighs. “I came here to apologize.”

——-

After the movie ended and Sam finished showing us 6 deleted scenes and 10 YouTube interviews, I finally slipped quietly out of my new blanket nest and away from the steadying comfort of the Alpha-Omega sandwich. I paced for a bit in the hallway outside Bucky’s room, gearing myself up for what would likely be an awkward confrontation with a man I knew well intimately but hardly personally. As much as I’d like for him to sweep me off my feet and into the safety and comfort of his den, he’d probably tell me I was delusional and that he was avoiding me because he wanted to be left alone. That’s why I figured it was probably best to start with an apology.

What I did not prepare for during my anxious pacing was the overwhelming Alpha scent that washed over me the minute he opened the door. It was like getting hit in the face by a truck full off pheromones designed specifically to reduce me to a shivering, keening puddle on the floor. Every clever thing I planned to say flew right out the window as I swayed under the strength of his gaze and the delicious cedar wood and bonfire scent that curled around me.

Inside his apartment wasn’t any better. I should have asked to meet on neutral ground, I thought immediately after stepping through the door. Everywhere smelled like him. Even the couch underneath me was still warm from where he was probably curled up before I’d interrupted. It took all my strength to quiet the dizzying rush of hormones in my head, breathe in deeply through my mouth, and spit out what I came here to say.

“I came here to apologize,” I said, gulping down the ridiculous, submissive words my hindbrain wanted to follow up with. I’m so sorry, Alpha. It wasn’t my fault. I can be better for you.

Bucky looked… confused. “Apologize?”

“Yes. Apologize,” I said, feeling my cheeks heat up with embarrassment. “I know we… did what we had to do. When we were trapped. And I’m sorry that I… reacted the way I did. I know heats are really intense. For everyone. I know I made you uncomfortable, and you probably don’t want anything to do with me.” I paused again, biting hard on my lower lip as my stomach roiled with embarrassment. I looked down at my lap, where I was digging my fingers hard into my thighs, and forced out the last few words. “But I couldn’t help it. And I’m sorry I went into heat. I think it was the purring. I’ve… never felt that. Before.”

I didn’t look up from my lap at first, wincing internally. Bucky’s silence after my lousy attempt at an apology hurt worse than anything so far. The least he could do is acknowledge that it wasn’t my fault.

I took a shaky inhale, and felt a lump build up in my throat. Goddamnit. Don’t fucking cry. Not now.

“I— This was a mistake,” I said, sniffling hard and willing the tears rapidly welling up in my eyes not to fall. I finally looked up from my lap, bracing myself to stand and backtrack the hell out of here, when I simultaneously saw the look on Bucky’s face and caught the scent of absolutely devastatedAlpha.

“Don’t leave,” he said, voice deep and rough, on the edge of an Alpha command. I froze instantly, though it wasn’t because he’d compelled me to. Alpha commands only worked on their bonded Omegas and their offspring.

No, I froze because Bucky looked… heartbroken. It was the only time I’d seen an ounce of vulnerability on his face, besides that moment in the cell when he’d first realized he was falling into a chemically-induced rut. My eyes flicked down to where his metal hand was fisted so hard in the arm of his chair that the seams were starting to rip.

Before I could blink it away, I felt one unruly tear slip down my cheek, though my own shame and embarrassment had taken a backseat once I’d recognized Bucky’s distress.

“I— Fuck,” he said. Faster than I could register, Bucky heaved himself forward, sinking down onto his knees on the floor in front of me, hands clutching at the couch cushions on either side of my thighs. Our eyes locked, and I lost myself in twin pools of grey-blue. His scent burned on my next inhale, sharp and distressed, the sour stench of guilt that lingered in the corners of his apartment.

“Why are you apologizing?” Bucky’s voice was a breathy, raspy growl. It sent a thrill up my spine, and for a moment, I didn’t register that he’d asked me a question. This close, I could feel the heat of his skin, see the stubble on his jaw, scent that delicious smell of him— like snowmelt, like the wind on your face, like a deep inhale at the summit of a mountain…

Bucky broke his gaze first, growling low and dark in his chest. “I should be the one apologizing. I should have already. But I—“ He cut himself off, lip curling in disgust as he leaned away from me. I felt a sharp, stabbing pain in my chest. Alpha doesn’t want you.

I inhaled hard, suppressing a sob, feeling more hot tears run down my cheeks.

I needed to leave. Now. I wasn’t in control of my emotions. This was embarrassing. “Clingy Omega sobs in disinterested Alpha’s apartment.” What would the pack think of me?

I moved to stand up again, but the low-grade growl in Bucky’s chest sharpened, and he lurched forward, crowding me back against the couch cushions.

Before I could even register the aggression in his action, or even think to be fearful of him, Bucky had already leaned back out of my space and silenced his growl.

“Fuck! Sorry— I’m. Sorry. Don’t leave yet. I won’t—“ He cut himself off again, shaking his head in frustration, before standing up to put more distance between us again, moving to lean on the back of the armchair across from me with his head in his hands. He took a deep, steadying breath before speaking again. “I should be the one apologizing. Because I… hurt you. I told you that you were safe. And you weren’t. Not from me.”

When he looked up to meet my gaze, his expression looked tortured, but his scent was worse— ashy and acidic, hatred and guilt. Guilt? Why was he…

I swiped hurriedly at the tears on my cheeks, feeling the lump in my throat clear as confusion and exasperation took over.

“What are you talking about? I’m perfectly fine,” I huffed. Well, as fine as one can be when they’re pining over an Alpha who can’t stand to be in the same room as them. Maybe he feels guilty about Hydra restraining me? That’s the only logical explanation I could think of.

“Tony got the cuffs off right when I got back here, it’s not like you could have removed them. They were Terrigen crystal.” I shook my head, and once again moved to stand and leave as the futility of this conversation dawned on me. “Whatever. I’ll just go.”

This time, I got in a few steps towards the door before that low growl started up again and he caught my wrist in his right hand.

I should have been terrified. I should have been running for my life. I should have frozen him into the floor. I was an unbonded Omega in a growling Alpha’s den, soaked in a combination of our distressed pheromones, held in his grasp and unable to leave.

But despite all the reasons I had to roll over and bare my throat in fearful submission, absolutely no part of me felt scared or unsafe.

Bucky’s hand on my wrist was gentle. Not holding me back, but pleading for me to stay. And the feel of his skin on mine made something hot, desperate and dark curl within me.

His voice was rough when he spoke again, my back still turned half away from him. “In that cell. I… forced myself on you. You trusted me enough to fall into a heat, and I took advantage. You shouldn’t be apologizing, because you should hate me.”

When I turned back around, the raw expression on his face made my stomach lurch. He looked… devastated. Ashamed. Vulnerable. Afraid.

Feeling hysterical, I couldn’t help a little nervous giggle from bubbling up in my throat.

All this time, this big, dumb, handsome, superhero Alpha had really thought he’d violated me in some way. Me. The Omega who had practically rubbed her entire body in his scent, who had stayed up for hours yearning for his Alpha purr, who’d had sex dreams about him dirty enough to make a pornstar shudder.

“Are you fucking with me?” I said.

Bucky frowned earnestly. “No… I—“

“So you’ve been leaving me secret gifts because you felt… guilty?” I said, knowing I was putting him on the spot. Something about being in his presence, in his den, was making me bold— finally giving in after a month of exasperation, of chest-aching pain.

Bucky’s eyes widened, and he had the sense to look a bit sheepish, dropping my wrist from where his hand still encircled it. “Uh. It wasn’t—I was just— I’ll stop if you—“ he said, stumbling over his words.

His nervousness, I noted absurdly, was charming.

That’s when I suddenly realized that here, surrounded by Bucky’s scent, close enough to touch, I felt lighter than I had in over a month. The dull ache in my chest had lifted, and in its place, all I felt was an incredible sense of rightness.

Comfort Alpha, my Omega murmured, crawling back up from the recesses of my brain where I’d shoved her away earlier.

And, well, I was tired of fighting her. Fuck it.

“Bucky,” I laughed, cutting off his sputtering. “You— You didn’t force anything on me. We were both out of our minds. Hell— I’m still out of my mind! I’ve been pining over you for a month. My fucking chest,” I said, reaching up to worry at my sternum where the pain had been centered.

“You— What?”

————

As soon as Y/N had settled into the couch, and Bucky’s inner Alpha had registered that she was within reach, soaked in his scent and looking gorgeous and vulnerable, he’d lost it a little.

First— confusingly— she had started apologizing. Then in just a few, rapidly devolving moments, he’d (1) made her scent spike with anger and sadness, (2) watched helplessly as tears clumped in her eyelashes and tracked down her smooth cheeks, and (3) acted like a territorial knotheadwhen she’d tried to leave— as if he hadn’t fucked things up enough.

And now she was… confessing her feelings for him?

That couldn’t be right.

“You— What?”

Bucky recognized that absolutely no part of this conversation had demonstrated his intelligence. He was actually starting to think maybe the serum had given him early onset dementia.

He took a step closer to her, knowing he was pushing it by crowding the Omega in his own territory, but too overwhelmed to care. “But… What about Steve?” he asked. Just being within feet of her, he could smell the newspaper ink scent of his best friend still lingering on her clothes.

Y/N quirked her head. “What about him?” She lifted her arm to take a sniff at her shoulder, seeming to scent what remained of him on her pullover.

Bucky bit hard on the inside of his cheek, fighting a scowl. He wasn’t that dumb. “You two are… you know,” he started, shrugging to hide the hurt. “Together.”

An amused smirk tugged at her lips. “What, did you think I was canoodling with Wanda and Sam as well? The whole pack? Because I smell like all of them, too.”

And, well, yes. This close, Bucky could pick up Wanda’s muted cinnamon smell, Sam’s citrus scent, and even a splash of rosewater from Nat.

Then, Bucky noticed that Y/N’s hand was still worrying at her sternum. In the very same spot where he’d practically rubbed holes in his own shirts over the past month. He matched the motion dazedly, reaching up to place his palm over his own chest. That same nagging thought that had dogged him for weeks in the Brooklyn apartment fought back to the forefront of his mind. Bond withdrawal.

“You feel it too?” he said, his words coming out softer than he’d intended, disbelief coloring his tone.

Bucky watched as her snarky expression melted away, eyes turning serious and contemplative. She took a step forward, now so close that they were breathing the same air, and nodded resolutely.“All day. Every day. Aching. And—” She paused, a fierce blush rising on her cheeks. “Your… purr. I feel like I nee—“

Before his higher functions could process the words coming from her lips, Bucky’s hindbrain took control of his body. He crowded Y/N back into the wall behind them, his arms on either side of her head as he leaned in to take a deep, desperate lungful right at the scent glands on her neck. She tipped her head back instantly, baring her throat to him and letting out a breathy moan that sent his head spinning, her sweet peppermint scent coursing through his veins like the best drug.

In the morning, maybe, he’d regret this.

But right here, right now? Omega really wants him. Fucking finally.

The sight of her bared throat made his Alpha wild with need— the same trusting submission he thought he had abused before, now presented to him without abandon. He replaced his nose on her neck with his lips and tongue, and her body arched against his, their hips lining up. She keened softly, and his cock thickened in his pants, forcing him to bite back a gratified growl as he ran his nose up and down the column of her throat. Her scent was changing, taking on an earthy, musky note, like fallen leaves and wet moss. Arousal. He felt his mouth water, and he could scent his own aroused pheromones filling the air, mixing with hers.  

Was he dreaming? This couldn’t be real. He didn’t deserve this— her trust, her want, her body beneath him.

But Bucky’s inner Alpha was crowing. The feel of her against him, her scent lighting his body on fire from the inside out— it stirred up the deepest, darkest, most possessive Alpha instincts buried deep within. Not Steve’s. Mine. My Omega.

Y/N snaked a hand up his chest, pressing her cool palm to the side of his face and nudging his gaze up to meet hers. Her pupils were blown wide, plush lower lip pulled between her teeth— almost shy. The look shook Bucky out of his mindless Alpha stupor. He had to be sure. Because once he was…

He pulled back slightly so she could breathe. “Is this— Do you want this?” he asked, voice rough with need.

“Yes.”

———

The moment the word slipped from my lips, Bucky finally let go of the tight restraint holding himself back. I knew he was desperate before, when he had his nose buried in my neck. And I could smell the musky, warm flannel scent of his arousal in the air— feel the hard evidence of it against my hip.

But as soon as I’d finally, finally convinced this stupid, perfect, frustratingly dense Alpha that this was what I wanted— what I had wanted from the start— he let out a mind-numbing growl that made my knees go weak and shaky.

Though I was at first anticipating a rough and frenzied claiming— especially after a month of needless separation— I supposed that with Bucky’s extreme handle on his inner Alpha, it would be anything but. And I was right.

His lips were surprisingly gentle where they met mine, but insistent, commanding as he opened my mouth against his, stubble scraping at my cheek. I did my best to match his intensity, kissing back with everything I had, trying hard to communicate with more than words what he hadn’t let himself believe. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer to him, and before I could prepare myself, he scooped me up into his arms like I weighed nothing and headed towards the couch.

“No, bed,” I gasped, tearing my lips away from his for a moment. Bucky honest-to-god whined, changing course immediately to carry me further into his den, kicking his bedroom door closed behind him as we entered the space where his scent was thickest. In the low light, I could make out dark furniture and a large bed, which he settled me gently in the middle of, sheets and blankets a delicious, cedar-scented tangle around me. I could feel my heartbeat pick up, arousal thrumming through every nerve ending in my body, slick between my legs coming embarrassingly fast as my Omega prepared for the Alpha my body desperately craved.  

He hesitated for a moment once I was settled, hovering his body above mine, and I could see the glint of his steely eyes tracing down my form. I knew I didn’t look the sexiest in my cozy clothes, and I squirmed uncomfortably underneath his scrutiny, letting out my own indignant whine.

He chuckled— a dark, Alpha sound, then sat back a bit on his haunches to free his hands so that he could trace them down the curve of my sides. He stopped at the hem of my pullover, eyes flicking to meet mine. I nodded, sitting up a bit to let him pull it over my head, taking my bra with it. Once it was off, he hurled it dramatically into the furthest corner of the room, taking the pack’s scent with it. I couldn’t help but laugh at his possessive posturing, before I caught the intense look on his face as his eyes roved over my bare chest and stomach, drinking me in like he was afraid to break the spell by touching.

Goosebumps pebbled the skin of my arms, though not from cold. I reached up to pull him down closer to me, and I could feel him trembling— still holding himself back.

“Bucky,” I pleaded, arching up my lower half to press my core against his leg. He remained still, flesh and metal hands holding my waist firmly in his grasp. “Alpha,” I tried.

That worked.

With a choked-out growl, Bucky surged up against me, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses from my mouth, down my neck, across my scent glands and to my chest, where he sucked and laved at my sensitive nipples.

“Fucking perfect, Omega,” he breathed, sounding pained. “Smell so good. Like you were made for me. Unbelievable.”

I whined in response, each inhale taking in more of his heady scent, making my head swim. He kissed a hot path from my chest down my belly, nosing at my hip and the waistband of my pants. “Didn’t think you wanted this, doll. Not with me,” he said, flesh hand gripping my side hard enough to bruise. My Omega thrilled at the idea of a mark left behind. Down, girl.

He hesitated at the drawstring of my joggers, his eyes flicking up to meet mine. “Can I make you feel good, Omega?” he panted, mouth slack and plush lips wet. I hitched in a breath at the sight of him, feeling punch-drunk and so overwhelmingly turned on I had to fight the urge to close my eyes. I nodded my consent, but reached out to tug at the shoulder of his shirt first, which he ripped over his head with one hand to reveal the sculpted, shadowy planes of chest. The hard lines of him looked like they were cut from steel. Jesus Christ.

“Please,” I pleaded again, canting up my hips, and he rumbled in response, dragging down my pants and underwear in one smooth glide down my legs. I tightened my thighs together reflexively— still wanting, but momentarily shy at being completely bare for him, and the the thought of the amount of slick he’d find between my legs.

“Perfect,” he practically purred, leaning in to kiss me softly, reassuringly, slotting his hips between my legs until I was spread wide beneath him. He kissed back down my body once my breathing slowed, his cold metal hand leaving goosebumps behind as it trailed down my side to behind my knee, where he lifted my leg to throw it over his shoulder. He paused at my navel, looking up at me one more time. “Okay, doll?”

I took in a shuddering breath, the need for him to touch me overpowering my nerves, before nodding. The corner of Bucky’s mouth turned up in a smirk, making my breath catch in my throat, before he dove between my legs with what could only be described as super soldier-like intensity. He sucked slowly, teasingly at the scent glands on my inner thighs before dragging his nose through my slick folds, lapping up my slick like a man starved. He found my bundle of nerves instantly, beginning a relentless tease with his tongue.

I’d never felt anything like it. A litany of uncontrollable whimpers and moans fell from my mouth as pleasure washed over me in waves.

“Taste so good, Omega,” he growled, throwing his metal arm across my hips to hold me down as I bucked up in need against his face. “Never tasted anything like you.”

My eyes rolled back in my head as I felt his flesh hand drag along the inside of my thigh before he pressed one thick finger slowly inside me. The sounds coming out of my mouth were sinful, and I pushed my face into the pillow beside my head to muffle them as I tightened around the digit.

“Alpha, please,” I begged, squirming as I teetered on the razor sharp edge of release. He carried on, increasing the intense assault with his tongue, before adding another finger next to his first, canting them both up towards my navel in a slow drag inside me. The fullness is what pushed me over the edge with a cry. He loosened his hold on my hips to let me ride it out against his mouth until I pulled away sharply with the sting of oversensitivity. He slipped his fingers from me drenched in slick, bringing heat to my cheeks, before licking his fingers clean with his gaze trained on mine.

“God,” I gasped out as my heart rate started to come down, feeling lightheaded and tingly all over from the best orgasm I’d ever had in my fucking life.

“Thanks, but you can call me Bucky.”

Did he— I barked out a disbelieving laugh at the absolute, shit-eating grin on his face— a carefree, pleased look I hadn’t seen before in the short time I’d known the Alpha.

He laughed with me, before moving back up the bed, pressing his burning hot chest to mine, and leaning in for a slow, lingering kiss. The waistband of his pants dug into my hip, along with the shockingly hard length of him.

“Oh, I didn’t—“ I broke away from his mouth, moving my fingers down to scrabble at the button of his pants, but he gently moved my hand away with one of his own.

“You don’t need to,” he said, his voice deep and rough— sounding just as fucked out as me, though I hadn’t even touched him.

I frowned. “But I want to. Do you not want me to—“

He cut me off with a kiss, before dropping his forehead to my chest. I could feel his breath fanning out across my skin, my nipples peaking in interest even though I felt thoroughly sated already.

“Jesus, doll. Of course I do.” He lifted his head up, meeting my gaze, and I could see his jaw clenching as he fought for the right words. When I’d first met him I’d chalked up his taciturn mannerism as a side effect of the rut, but now, I realized it was just another endearing facet of his personality. He liked to make every word he spoke count. Makes sense when you spent seventy years in a muzzle.

“I don’t want you to feel… pressured,” he finished.

This again? I leaned down, pulling a blanket up and over my frame to cover my naked lower half, and Bucky moved off me slightly.We probably should have talked more before Bucky decided to take me to the astral plane— but I certainly wasn’t complaining about the way things had progressed, and by the scent of proud Alpha that still lingered in the air, he hadn’t minded either.

“Bucky, I don’t blame you for anything that happened in that cell. Not even a little bit,” I began. He sighed, breaking eye contact to look down at his flesh hand, which he’d fanned out across my belly. I wasn’t a petite woman, but underneath his massive hand, I felt… small and safe in the best way. A way that made my Omega sing with pleasure at having found a match that could both provide and protect in the ways I needed him to. “It didn't even occur to me that I should blame you. If anything, I was grateful. You protected me and comforted me in a way that very few Alphas would have been able to while in rut.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, but his scent hadn’t sunk back into the sour distress of our earlier confrontation, so I knew he had heard me. He shifted to lie down on his back, lifting his flesh arm over my head to scoop me against his chest. I snuggled up to meet him, curling up against his side with my head pillowed on his massive bicep.

It felt… right— like two puzzle pieces finally joining— and I was suddenly reminded of the ache, or rather, the lack of it.

“You asked me earlier if I felt it too,” I whispered, the moment quiet and sacred in the muted light of Bucky’s den. I lifted my eyes to look at him to find he was already gazing down at me. “I know this is crazy for me to say, but this just feels so—“

“Right,” he said, finishing my sentence for me. “It feels right. And my chest doesn’t hurt anymore, now that you’re here.”

“It’s gone for me too. Bucky— god— I thought I was going crazy. I thought you hated me. I thought I was going to have to leave the pack,” I whined, feeling the low-level anxiety of the past few weeks rush back in one big wave. Bucky must have scented the intensity of my distress, because he shushed me softly, running a soothing hand up and down my back, before nudging my head onto his chest and starting up that painfully familiar rumble that I’d yearned for for weeks. His purr.

I instantly melted against him, feeling anxiety make way for comfort and bliss as every muscle in my body let go of the tension it was holding. I let out an involuntary moan of relief as I drowned in his purr and the cedar scent that surrounded me like a cocoon.

“’S fucking good,” I slurred, and I could feel Bucky’s laugh cut through the vibrations.

Reluctantly, I pulled my head away from his chest so that I could meet his eyes again. He was still staring, like I was a puzzle he couldn’t decipher. I shivered.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said. I immediately opened my mouth to protest, but he stopped me. “No, listen. I should have apologized to you as soon as we got back. But I was afraid.” He said it resolutely, unfalteringly. An Alpha admitting their fear was rare. But Bucky wasn’t a typical Alpha. “I was afraid of what I was feeling— of what you might be feeling. And when I saw you with Steve, I just thought—“ he paused, closing his eyes. “I thought I could move on. That you had made the right choice.”

Though my heart hurt to think of the turmoil that Bucky had put himself through over the past month, I had to smirk. Bucky might be different in other ways, but his jealousy over my imagined relationship with Steve was stereotypical Alpha.

“Is that why you started leaving me secret gifts?” I asked teasingly, feeling a smile curling across my lips. “Saw another Alpha swoop in and had to prove you could provide?”

Bucky flopped his head back against the pillow with a groan, scrunching up his eyes in embarrassment, and I laughed at his chagrin.

“I knew it was weird,” he said. “But it made it hurt less. To know I could… provide for you in some way. Sorry. I know I sound like a knothead.”

“Don’t apologize. That blanket will be perfect for our nest,” I said innocently, fluttering my eyelashes. Bucky stiffened under me immediately at the thought. I giggled, and the Alpha rolled back on top of me in a flash, letting out a teasing growl as his arms caged me in.

I squirmed underneath him as he pressed gentle kisses down my neck, tongue laving across my scent glands, sending a jolt of arousal through my thoroughly relaxed body.  

“How do you smell so incredible?” he grumbled against my skin, inhaling deeply. I took the opportunity to move my hand down across his bare chest again, sneaking towards his waistband, but Bucky caught my hand again gently, lacing our fingers together. He stopped his ministrations against my glands, and lifted his face up to meet mine again.

“Not tonight,” he murmured. “But will you stay?”

I nodded then, feeling suddenly shy and exposed underneath him. I wiggled down off the bed to pull on my soft pants and pullover, leaving my bra and slick-soaked underwear on the floor, while Bucky tugged off his pants, leaving him in black boxer briefs that showed off the rippling muscles of his thighs. God. Damn.

As I curled up again next to him, pulling the blankets up and over the tangle of our legs, a bone-deep tiredness settled over me, my body finally feeling relaxed and safe enough to slip into sleep after weeks of insomnia. He pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead, before looping his arms around me firmly and starting up his Alpha purr once again.

Tomorrow, we’d finish talking. Tomorrow, we’d figure out what was up with our strange connection. And tomorrow, it was my turn to make Bucky feel just as good as I had.

But right now? I nuzzled my face into his chest, savoring the cent of cedar and bonfire, and knew—irrevocably— that I was finally home.  

[vickypoochoices]

Christmas Countdown part 3.

[MASTERLIST.]

Days 6-10.

Day 11.

She huddled closer to Kaitlyn and Zack, a wave of warmth enveloping them as they remained under the covers of her bed. Flicking the switch of a flash light, Zack held it up to his chin, pulling his mouth into a gurn and making a strange wailing sound.

"Remind me what exactly you're doing Zack."

"Uhh, setting the mood?"

"You said you wanted to help me 'talk tactics', not tell ghost stories. Why are you always like this?" She queried, but she couldn't stop a small smile from slipping.

"Just so you know Zack, I appreciated it." Kaitlyn nudged him with her shoulder.

"Of course you did." She rolled her eyes at the pair of them, both looking back at her with innocent smiles on their faces.

"Okay, we've played with you enough tonight. Just FYI, winding you up is so much fun, you always bite. So then, where's today's message from Mr Lover Lover? Cutting it a bit fine today isn't he? It is almost 10pm. Hey, wait! Did we ever even establish if this is a guy or what?"

"Zack. We've established nothing." She jabbed him in the arm, hard, to emphasize her point.

"Wow...Owww."

"He's never missed a day, something will show up soon. I don't know what it is, I just have a feeling it's a guy."

"Are we gonna do this? Put money on it? What odds can I get on this being a chick?" Kaitlyn enquired, eyes seeming to light up in excitement.

Forcefully, she shoved Kaitlyn out the bed, squaring her shoulders and fixing Zack with a hard stare.

"You're next Zilberg"

He raised his hands and quietly hopped out.

"Okay, we're out of here. Don't worry, I fully intend to give it my all tomorrow. Secret admirer is going dowwwnn."

Barely a minute had passed since Zack and Kaitlyn's departure, and as she lowered herself back into bed, a quiet vibration gained her attention.

Day Eleven - You are, and always have been my dream x.

A small smile teased her lips. She'd been waiting all day for this, he could do better than that.

You're sweet, but I need more tonight!

She lay back, watching the screen intently. After a few minutes of nothing, she huffed out an irritated breath, rolling onto her side.

And then her phone buzzed.

You are the answer to every prayer I've offered. You are a song, a dream, a whisper, and I don't know how I could have lived without you for as long as I have x.

Her ears started ringing and her heart felt like it was thrashing against her chest. His words were beautiful, yet familiar, although she couldn't think why.

Why does this sound so familiar?

So it's not gonna be easy, it's going to be really hard; We're gonna have to work at this every day, but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you forever, every day x.

Something inside her head clicked instantly as she took in the words. He was quoting from The Notebook. Her all time favourite romance film. It was beautiful, it made her cry without fail every time she watched it, and Ryan Gosling was in it, and that was reason enough.

I'm impressed! First you woo me with Love Actually, and now you're telling me you've watched The Notebook? I'm in love!

I love you. I am who I am because of you. You are every reason, every hope, and every dream I've ever had x.

Her stomach flipped as she poured over the words. He wasn't messing around anymore, his words carried more meaning now than any of the previous days. At a loss with what to reply back, she stared dumbfounded at the screen, before it vibrated in her hand one final time.

If you're a bird, I'm a bird x.

If there was one thing she was certain of, it was that Zack had to find out who was behind this. Quickly.

Day 12.

Zack paced up and down the empty hallway for the umpteenth time, pointlessly batting at his face in frustration. It had been two hours. Two very lonely, extremely boring hours keeping watch outside their apartment. Checking his watch, he made a mental vow to stick it out at least another twenty minutes before throwing the towel in. As he straightened his aching back, he suddenly noticed a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye, followed by the sound of hurried movement.

Whirling around on the spot, Zack broke into a fast paced jog. Catching sight of his target, his attention momentarily slipped as a post it note fluttered towards him. Reaching out to catch it before it fell, he managed to read the small scrawl 'Day Twelve - Je t'aime x.' before scrunching it up roughly.

Eyes focused ahead, a smirk creeped on to Zack's face as he realised his patience was about to pay off. This was his apartment building, and he knew they were heading towards a dead end, with nothing but a cleaning cupboard to run towards. The figure slowed, realising the error, back still facing Zack.

"You've played a good game Sir, but it's time to find out who you really are." Placing an encouraging hand on his shoulder, he slowly turned.

Zack's mouth flew open.

Day 13.

"Edgar? As in Edgar Edgar? That doesn't make any sense!" Kaitlyn shrieked as Zack filled them in the next day.

"Why? We always knew it could be anyone."

"But, it's Edgar! He really watched The Notebook? And liked it enough to quote it?" Kaitlyn squeaked, clearly having a hard time accepting all of this.

"Actually, I wasn't quite done. Edgar insisted he'd been getting emails from an unknown source asking for his help. He confessed to leaving the flowers after class. But he was pretty adamant that was the only part he played."

"But why would Edgar agree to this? What's he getting out of it?" She asked, confusion etched across her face.

"Whoever this unknown source is, they've been hyping up D and D everywhere. Apparently so many people are interested now, they've had to set a waiting list up to cope with the demand."

"No wonder Edgar was game! Hey, you know Tyler could probably crack this. I bet he could track this unknown source with his eyes closed." Zack enthused.

"Actually I...I don't think I want to."

"WHAT?!" Zack and Kaitlyn complained loudly in unison.

Ringing her hands distractedly, she was unable to meet the steely gaze she felt bearing down on her.

"It's just, he's gone to a lot of trouble to not be found. He's gone as far as to recruit Edgar as his minion for Christ's sake! That's dedication. I don't want to ruin this for him. It's not like he can hide forever, what would be the point to all of this then?"

Kaitlyn and Zack exchanged a look.

"And you couldn't have said all this before I went all badass yesterday?" Zack questioned, eyebrows raised slightly.

"Oh shhh. I'm sure you got a kick out of it."

"James Bond better watch out." Zack winked.

***

A few hours later she was slowly sinking under a pile of books, studying hard after slacking so much recently.

Her laptop chimed in front of her, notifying her of a new email. Her pulse quickened as she noted that she now had her very own unknown source, patiently waiting in her inbox. Her finger hovered over the cursor for a brief second, before she relented and clicked away.

Day Thirteen - You can't go back and change the beginning, but you can start where you are and change the ending x.

Day 14.

As she made her way home that afternoon after a long day, she couldn't think of anything better than curling up in bed for a cozy little afternoon nap. Entering the building, she could hear music playing loudly from one of the apartments. With every step she took closer to her apartment, the louder the music became. She couldn't stop herself from humming along, recognising the song as That's How You Know from the film Enchanted. Weird choice of song to be blasting so loud. When she finally reached the front door, it was clear that one of her roommates must have gone deaf over night. Because if that wasn't the reason, she was about to give them a piece of her mind.

Unlocking the door, she stormed in, ready to yell, only to be met by an empty room.

"Okay, which one of you is it? Come on, out you come. I promise I won't lay into you that badly!" She called out, making her way down the hallway, opening each bedroom door she passed. They were all empty. No one was here.

Racing back to the living room, she located the source of the music. Kaitlyn's ancient music system stood in the kitchen. Everyone always poked fun at her for being stuck in the 90's, but she insisted on keeping it in the kitchen, songs from their childhood constantly played as she did the dishes or cleaned up. On top of the CD player, was a case she didn't recognize. Picking it up, she found a post it note slipped inside the cover of the otherwise empty case. Day Fourteen - He'll find a new way to show you, a little bit every day. That's how you know, that's how you know he is your love x.

As the song repeated itself over and over, she did nothing but take a seat, listening to the lyrics intently. She knew he'd been ramping up the affection recently, and becoming bolder with his words. It was becoming clear that this wasn't a game anymore, his feelings were stronger than that. He was in love with her, yet she didn't even know his name. Could she go on like this, or was it time to ask Tyler for a favour?

Day 15.

"Yo, sweet cheeks! Party planning is about to start, get your ass out here!" Zack yelled from the other side of her bedroom door.

"I'll be right there!" She chirped back, picking up her phone and standing to join everyone. She stopped in her tracks as the phone beeped in her hand.

Day fifteen is a choice x.

Well this was different. Plopping back on the bed, her fingers hurriedly got to work with a response.

What kind of choice?

I'm giving you the choice to end all of this now. Say the word, ask me outright who I am, and this will all be over x.

And the other option?

Indulge me a little longer. Things stay as they are for now, we'll continue the fun. Make a little time for me on Christmas Day and I'll tell you everything you want to know. From that point on, whatever happens next is up to you x.

Okay... Before she could finish tapping out a reply, her bedroom door flung open, Chris grinning at her widely. Her hand slipped in surprise, and she quietly groaned as she realised she'd accidentally sent the message.

"People are getting impatient out there, I've been elected to come and get you."

She raised her eyebrows at him, folding her arms across her chest.

"When you say people I know you mean Zack. And when you say elected I know you mean you were forced to do his dirty work for him."

Chris laughed, rubbing the back of his head as he tried and failed to think of a lie on the spot.

"Don't even think about it Powell. I see right through you."

"Okay, okay. Do me a favour and come join everyone please?"

She smiled sweetly at him and clambered off her bed whilst Chris reached into his jeans pocket, pulling his phone out.

Taking in the look of delight flash across his face, she couldn't help but question him.

"Hmm I know that look. Who's the lucky girl then?"

"What? Nothing. No one." Chris fumbled, cheeks glowing.

She eyed him suspiciously, maintaining eye contact for a moment, prompting him to shift nervously from one foot to the other.

"Whatever you say Christopher. I'm watching you!" She tried to make light of the situation, but deep down she was desperate for answers. Was Chris the one behind all of this? And if he was, how did she feel about that? They were just friends right?

Days 16-17.

Tagging: @zigortega4life @emerald-bijou @krsnlove @darley1101

[samanthabreedlove-blog]

A few nights later, after class, I walk to the Palladium-- NYU’s athletic center, on 12th Street and 3rd Avenue. As I walk north on Broadway, the Arctic air so cold against my face, snots dripping from my nose all the way to my neck. Once inside the building, though, it's toasty and warm. The smell of chlorine from the Olympic sized swimming pool in the basement of the building is so overwhelming you can smell it even on the 3rd floor where the general exercise equipment is located.

I change in the women’s locker room and walk out into the empty gym. There is hardly anyone here at this hour. It's almost 10pm but I estimate I’ll still be able to get a solid 4 miles in plus a shower before they close at 11. I choose a treadmill, turn it on, set the pace and begin to run. Lately, after my evening classes, I like to come to the gym and run. This helps to clear my mind. My sprints have gotten faster and faster. I’ve achieved a steady 8 minute mile pace. It feels good to accomplish the goals I’ve set for myself-- chipping away at my run-time, resulting in tangible proof of my hard work.

While I run I become hyper-aware of the passing of time, and I am also aware of my physical movement. As I run, I imagine the landscape of Florida. Thoughts come in and are subsequently pushed out of my mind as my feet pound down onto the circulating rubber of the treadmill-- the weight of my body shakes the machine more and more the harder I run.  My mediation through this action repeats over and over inside my brain: “It is over now, it is in the past. The past is behind me, and the future is in my control.”

I imagine JR: I see his face as I saw it for the very last time-- framed by the window of the cab as he shut the car door. It is like a short movie that plays in my head every time I run; after the cab comes the memory of sitting at Reagan International drinking whiskey alone at the airport bar, tears streaming down my face-- so much so that strangers stare but they know better than to ask me what’s wrong. Then the memory of the Washington Monument visible through the oval of my window seat as the plane takes off and flies over the Mall before setting course south towards Florida. In memory, I can see myself in third person: sad aching body as it sobs in near silence for all 800 miles back to Tampa where my mother will pick me up once we land because I can’t stand for anyone else to see me in this state. That feeling was boiling over so intensely inside of me I swear I could taste it in my mouth-- my heart heavy with a new kind of sadness-- aware for the first time with absolute certainty that I meant nothing to him.

***

I’d gone to visit JR in D.C. where he’d moved in early 2008, after shit hit the fan once Margaret found out about not only me, but the other handful of woman he’d been sleeping with after breaking the seal of infidelity in my bedroom that past July. JR had stuck around just long enough for the full force of the crash to whip back from him to me.

Everyone loved Margaret. She was universally lovable. A thing I never considered until after, and under the weight of everyone else’s judgement: how easy it is to slut shame the woman. Everyone expected this from JR. He’d done it before. But, they hadn’t from me; well-- How could I? What was I thinking?

I was a home-wrecker, a whore. A pathetic drunk who ought to gain some self-respect. An elitist bitch who destroyed everything. Funny how quick a town full of miscreants gains a moral compass. Except it wasn’t really funny at all. My spirit was crushed; instead of having him, I had the judgemental eyes of everyone else around me. Wherever I went, there they were looking at me like I was a disease, like I was crazy. Was I crazy? Maybe I was crazy.

First week in January, after she’d kicked him out, JR came to find me at Dirty Nelly’s-- a bar just south of State Theater on 8th street that people would come to when the band at the Emerald was awful. Nelly’s was unremarkable other than the fact that it had a pool table and shag-carpeting which seemed like a really poor choice for a dive bar. But if the Emerald was out of the question that night, you knew Nelly’s was where everyone was gonna be.

I was surprised to see him, further still that he came straight over to my table. We hadn’t spoken since the Christmas Party. The first words out of his mouth were: “We should talk. Alone. She kicked me out.”

When the shoe finally drops, no matter how much you think you’re ready for it, you really just aren’t. I told him okay, that I’d be back and went off to find Quinn.

Quinn was in town on winter break from the New School where she was finishing the last year of her BFA. She’d been staying with me on my couch like she always would. I found her in the bathroom reapplying her lipstick and chatting with Carolyn who was taking a piss. I told her what JR’d just disclosed. She says back to me straight away, “get him out of here-- I’ll find someone to go home with.”

Quinn is my best friend. We were born exactly one week apart, and on each other’s due dates: me one week early, her a week late. Friends since grade 6, she’d moved to New York City in 2005 with Laura before the thought had really occurred for me to leave Florida. They both live in a basement cement loft off the Halsey Stop on the L train where they commute into the City, working together at the Strand Bookstore in Union Square.

Quinn’s tall at 5’11, with curves for days, a body built just exactly like Beyonce. Her eyes the color of dark chocolate with the face like the fawn of a deer, Quinn is both sweet and steady. Her presence in any room feels like the steep, strong column holding up the architecture of everything. I kissed her on the cheek before scooping JR up and driving us both back to my place.

There on my couch, we sat in dark silence for a long time before he says, “You weren’t the only one, and she doesn’t know about you yet. But it’s only matter of time and you should prepare yourself for that. We both should”

I didn’t say anything back. After a while he went on.

“This a mess, and it is going to get a lot worse. I need to figure out how to not live here anymore and fast”

His eyes are wet with tears and I realize for the first time just how much he really does love her. What I feel in return for JR, as he sits in so much sadness on my couch isn’t jealousy, or anger, or fear. But, rather, just an intense desire for him to be okay. It’s really dark in my house, all the lights are out in the living room but the lamp left on in the kitchen casts shadows, creating a pattern across JR’s pale and tear stained face. I’m fixated on him, but he won’t look back at me. He’s looking at the wall with his forehead in his hand. I start to cry too, but I’m not really sure why and I don’t want him to see so I get up to pour us a couple glasses of bourbon. I return, taking a place on the floor, looking up at him in the dark I hand him the glass.  

He sips, and after a while he says, “We can’t be together, it’s a mistake. It was a mistake for me to come here.”  

I don’t say anything but I reach for his hand and he takes it.

“I love her, and--and look what I did, I- I can’t do that to you too. I can’t do that to you, period. I don’t know what is going to happen next but we should stay as far away from one another as possible. For your sake and for the sake of what’s gonna happen once this all comes out.” His voice is stammering.

For the first time I speak: “I’m not going to do that, JR.”

I feel calm as I climb into his lap. Holding his face in my hands, I comfort him the way I know how. I lift off my shirt and put his hands on my hips.

“Everything will be okay, no matter what happens, everything is going to be fine. ” I tell to him, my voice full of strength from a source I can’t identify but feel with conviction.

His body presses hard to mine in recognition. We made love in the middle of the living room floor and wake to the sound of Quinn coming in the back door the next morning.

Within the month JR’s left, nevering having said good-bye. He took me to the Hold Steady show a couple days after we made love in the living room. They were playing the Skatepark of Tampa Anniversary show hosted at Czar-- a communist themed Russian club in Ybor that has thick red velvet curtains, tiger striped carpeting, an excellent vodka selection and a huge stage in its ‘Imperial Theater’ where bands would play. He’d bought my ticket and my drinks, and even helt my hand at one point but after that night JR stopped taking my calls.

One night a couple weeks later, at the Independant-- a fancy hipster bar in St. Pete with over 70 international beers on tap, I spotted him there with a pretty girl in a pixie cut. Because God must hate me, our two parties combined and there I am sitting across from him with the new girl’s hand in his, all this visible to me just under the metal table where we sat. It’s her birthday, I’ve gathered. She is 23 and her name is Jenn. JR avoids eye contact with me until, at some point, his gaze searches then finds mine. We are sitting directly across from one another and a million miles apart. Across the distance, his eyes say to me ‘I’m sorry you’re seeing this’ but not ‘I’m sorry this is happening’. The inflections of his facial movements tell me ‘I told you I’m bad news. I wish you would had listened.’

That February, Sarah told me he’d moved. I pretended like I could give a shit, but my heart was broken. JR had moved to D.C. to take a contract job until the position he’d really been gunning for would come together: front end web design for XM Radio where his sister worked and had arranged for an interview. Back in St. Pete everyone had found out that I was the one he’d cheated with and everywhere I went the gossip followed. Even people I considered friends looked at me like I was pathetic and not a good person. Ill equipped to deal with this feeling, I was drinking a lot. That April, just after my 24th birthday, I ran into him at the Emerald-- he’d come down for his baby sister’s wedding and was out on the town showing off how he didn’t live here anymore. At the bar I mentioned wanting to come visit and he said I should. I justified it as professional development: The Women in the Arts Museum had just opened, for which my company was a sponsor, and Raymond James would pay for the trip if I wrote a piece about the inaugural exhibition. I wrote that piece, but I went exclusively to see him.

I went to D.C. because I wanted JR to give me something I knew in the back of my mind he probably never would-- some indication that I mattered to him, that all of what had happened was real. That it transpired, that I wasn’t losing my mind. Or, conversely, that I meant nothing: I needed closure and I naively thought he’d give it to me of free will. But instead, all I got was the knowing that I was just be a mistake he made-- a thing he had come to regret.

We spent the weekend in the Beacon Hotel on Capitol Hill because he was freshly kicked out of the apartment he was shacking-up in while taking advantage of a 39 year old woman who thought he loved her. Terri was also who he’d been interviewing with for that position at XM, and once hired she would be his boss. But he didn’t love her. In reality, he just couldn’t afford rent for his own place until after saving up a few paychecks and he desperately wanted that job-- those saved up paychecks JR subsequently blew on our hotel room because he was completely hitting rock bottom and lacked all semblance of self-control.

He’d seemed excited for my visit at first but once I was there, JR was different-- nothing felt right.  His intense desire for me to leave him alone was perceptible the entire time I was with him, even when we were having sex. When JR put me in that cab and slammed shut the door, I knew we’d never speak again. The relief that I was finally going plastered across his face clear as day.

Hand written on hotel stationary, and pressed in the palm of his hand before putting me in that cab:  

“You should know that I really believed that I could forgive you. Though I know now that I can’t. Wilde says those who are faithful know only the trivial side of love: it is the faithless who know love’s tragedies. And I’m better for that; for having loved you despite the fact that the esoteric nature of our relationship has finally knocked the wind out of me, and I’m resolved to the fact that whatever the reason, you and I are over.

Maybe in another lifetime we’ll get it right.

-Samantha”

Back in St. Pete, once the reality had really set in, Carolyn, Diane and I went to the ocean in the middle of the night because being in the salt water was the only thing that would calm my aching soul. We stripped all our clothes off and swam far out into the Gulf. Carolyn was the first to notice the phosphorescence, she pointed it out and we both looked down to see the shimming greenblue of the bioluminescent tides as they rolled over our bare breasts.

“It’s the color they make when they announce to the world, letting each other know ‘I exist, I am here!’, so they can find one another and reproduce.” Carolyn tells us. “Isn’t it magical?”  She is dipping her hand down into the water and scooping up a handful of the shimming water.

I let my body float in the Gulf as I watched how the colors looked just like thousands of fireflies all over my skin. I looked up at the full moon and I saw how the world was so big and full of so much beauty. I knew then that my story wouldn’t end here in Florida, I was destined for something more and I was free now from the power JR had held over me. I would find my magic, I would cast my life like a net into the great expanse of the sea-- I would be open to whatever would come of it.

***

While I’m running late at night at the gym, I confront these memories head on: this sacred space, with the full force of my body in motion, is the only place I let these thoughts seep in.

I concentrate on how every mile completed is a mile further away from him and closer to the promise I’d made to myself that night we went swimming in the ocean. This thought helps me run farther, and run faster. Despite what’s transpired, my love for him persists. It bubbles up in my torso, so I push it down deep into the recesses of my soul. I lock it down inside of me and I imagine that I’ve thrown away the key. This becomes the fuel from which I draw upon as I make my way in the world outside of where I’ve come from. I am dedicated to my successes not for him, but in spite of him. I am my own keeper: my body will never be broken for JR. He will no longer drink from my blood. My love for him reinvents as a way by which I make sense of myself, and I put that self at the forefront of everything.