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keehomania · 5 months ago

Text

frostbite (동상) ㅡ min yoongi (민윤기)

the second part can be found here

✧.* 18+

“cold as ice, hard as stone, never choose men over being alone,” was what your mother had found herself repeating to you your entire life. maybe not your entire life, actually. you couldn't really remember when the phrase was spoken into life, perhaps when you had turned twelve, thirteen; when you began to develop and mature, when push-up bras began to substitute training bras, when makeup began to gain significance, when she had noticed how older and younger men alike had started to smirk and leer more and more shamefully whenever you passed by.

it wasn't because she had it out for you. quite the opposite, actually. it was something her mother had sang to her, an invention of her own she had sang to life when hormones began to work faster than she could blink. she thought it would raise awareness as a subtle way for her to let her daughter know that no man could ever be trusted in the slightest, but your mother didn't care to listen. it worked the first few years of her adolescence; she avoided relationships all throughout high school and college, but all good things come to an end. after she had graduated and gone into finance the way she had planned, things took a turn when she met your father. no one could have predicted the outcome. their relationship moved quickly, but smoothly. their friends had sworn up and down that they could never imagine them in an argument, until they got married. with marriage came a child, you. with a child came more responsibilities, with which came more money spent. they spent and spent until they had nothing left to spend, and that's when the verbal arguments had reached a new low.

by the time you had turned fifteen, you found yourself consoling your mother as much as she allowed you to. it was draining, you found yourself asking the man in the sky for a way out. a way out was in store, just not for you. one night, just a little after midnight, your father had packed his bags and left after another one of their more tense fights, swearing to find a younger, prettier, richer woman. you had both assumed it was another one of his empty threats, but you would never come to know, as that was the last time either of you have seen or heard from him.

for weeks on end following his departure, your mother had no tears left to cry. she was too quiet, white in the face as if all the blood has been drained from her body. she wasn't interested in discussing what had happened ever again. more weeks passed and winter came along, and she had fallen ill. you had picked up a job at fifteen and worked as many shifts as you could just to keep the house warm, to keep food on the table at least until december's weather had passed. she knew you had been trying, and you knew she was grateful, but you couldn't shake the uneasy feeling as her condition worsened, as did the weather.

blizzards were uncommon in daegu. sure, it was normal to wake up to over ten inches of snow, but the storms just never seemed to take action. that's why you were surprised to have woken up just half an hour past four in the morning, to the sound of ice pounding on your windows and vicious wind blowing. your room was on the second floor, completely untouched, and you felt relieved for just a second. that second quickly passed when you called out for your mother, only to be met with silence. maybe she didn't hear you, maybe she had mistaken your voice for the wind; it's what you so badly wanted to believe as you made your way down the stairs. your heart stopped when you had realized that hope was more than a call away.

despite the untouched stairs and floor above, the living room she had been sleeping in was a wreck. the air was noticably colder, windows broken, glass shattered on the wet floor. the storm had done all the damage, yet that still wasn't the worst part. your mother was still on the couch, her skin as pale as ever. she was facing the ceiling, eyes open. you felt your heart sink to your stomach, and you've been dreading the feeling ever since. you've carried the grief ever since it happened, tears stinging whenever november made an appearance, whenever the temperature shifted. your mother had frozen to death, and how could you ever get over it, how could you ever function? you dreaded your father more than anything, knowing that if she could've beared to sleep in their shared room on the floor above, she would've been alive.

that was the first moment you had taken her words to heart. cold as ice, hard as stone, never choose men over being alone.

you had made it through the rest of high school without any interest in dating, or men in general. you had graduated the way you pictured yourself graduating, and you did it alone. it was a lonely road before anything else, but it was something you learned to live with. you spent your last summer as a high school student working to kill the time, waiting for the college season to start. everyone from your class had gone their separate ways, but you couldn't care less. every day seemed the same—wake up, eat, work, come home, eat, sleep. you went to sleep dreading the night, and woke up dreading the day. on one particular day, a man had stopped you in your tracks on the way to work. all he had to say was, “wouldn't hurt to smile, would it?” all it did was put a scowl on your face.

when summer had finally come to an end, you were the most ecstatic you've been in in the last four years. you couldn't wait to leave the house you grew up in—sell it, rent it out, it didn't matter. all you wanted was out. you ended up renting it out to an anonymous customer, which definitely should've raised some alarms, but you couldn't care less. they needed the house, you needed the money; they could've turned it into a meth lab for all you cared.

daegu university was located on the other side of town. it was a good college, despite how far away it was, which meant it was worth the agonizing drive. it was almost cartoonishly big, big and urban. nothing less was to be expected of a private school with a low acceptance rate and big bills. you had met with the principal of the university a total of three times. the first time was to congratulate you for being accepted, which had taken you aback. it was the first time in a long time you had allowed yourself to grin from ear to ear. the second time was just a few days later, he had shown you around the campus in advance, to avoid any confusion when the halls were packed to the brim. the third and final time was to get you comfortable in your dorm, where you met your dorm roommate.

the school itself was filled with spoiled, conceited kids with little to no knowledge and extended trust funds. it truly was a sight for sore eyes in the worst way possible. often did you find yourself rolling your eyes at their remarks and complaints, it was incredible how they could be so out of touch with reality and out of sync with the real world. you couldn't keep up with the rich people bullshit—stained shoes, last season clothes, companies going bankrupt. just a month into college, you learned to tune everything out, nearly everything.

your roommate took the cake, and you knew it. you felt the last shreds of your patience go numb when you had first met him. for the sake of your education, you told yourself that having a guy as your roommate would be no issue. you didb't want to leave a sour taste in the principal's mouth, so you put on a smile and complied. all you had to do was ignore him, just as you had been doing your whole life. he was quiet when you had first met, he was quiet throughout the many times you had spotted him during lectures or lunch. min yoongi—out of his entire group of friends, he seemed to be the most tame. that had lasted until he grew more comfortable and less mindful of your presence.

awake at the peak of midnight, you typed away at your laptop. your forehead was slick with sweat, hair tied back as you focused on your presentation. yoongi had gone out, perhaps with his friends. the room was quiet, aside from the sound of the wind whistling from outside. the silence didn't last as long as you needed it to, however, your heart practically skipping a beat as the door swung open. you really could've sworn you had locked it, making a mental note to double-check from that point on. the room was dark, so you couldn't make out who had entered until the lights flickered on. the smell of soju was pungent as yoongi stumbled into the room, making your nostrils flare. you couldn't bite back the groan that left your mouth as he stumbled in, only because he wasn't entering alone, for the third night in a row. he had come in with another sorority girl, hand around her waist as their lips remained locked in a drunken dance, their feet tumbling over each other. yoongi waved you off as if to let you know he didn't give a shit, you could either stay and watch or leave, so you left for the third night in a row. you took your laptop with you and remained sat outside of the door, typing hastily while you prepared yourself for yet another night of listening to their ten minutes of pleasure.

while you continued to type away, you felt a tap on your shoulder. already pissed off, you bit back a hiss as you snapped your head to the side. greeted by your friend's smile, you were relieved you didn't snap at him. “shit, third night in a row? he's on a roll, isn't he?” kim taehyung was the first person that introduced himself to you, and on your first day, too. at first, you had no interest in being his friend, but quickly warmed up to him once you realized just how much you had in common. he was from bukgu, just like you. he liked the same things you did, but more importantly, disliked the same things as you—men and rich people. men, more or less—he cheered you on when you found yourself ranting about men and their behavior, even if he did it jokingly. his vendetta against the rich was what made him stick out, as he had gotten into the university due to his promising resumé, accepting a full scholarship. with that being said, he was always respectful towards you, treating you as a friend and nothing more.

“i don't know how you can stand to hang out with him,” you responded, typing away as he allowed himself to sit next to you, throwing a glance at the screen. “he's a good friend, don't sweat it,” he paused, a smile crossing his lips. “but i'm not dumb enough to live with him, fuck no.”

yoongi was all too quiet, even with his friends, but he made up for that with many habits that failed to please you. those habits ranged from chainsmoking to excessive drinking to the dehumanizing way he fucked every girl with two legs and a functioning mouth. shit, it didn't matter if the girls had two legs or three, he'd find a way to spread them as long as he was in the mood, but they'd never get a glance from him the next day, let alone a text back. he'd just move onto the next victim.

“you could hold me at gunpoint and i still wouldn't know what these girls see in him,” you scoffed. you really didn't know. sure, he was a good-looking guy, you weren't gonna go out of your way to lie and call him ugly, but nobody could be good-looking enough to risk your self-respect.

taehyung seemed like he was actually thinking about it for a second, the faint sound of moans and groans from behind the door adding to his brain fog, “i think he just has a really big dick, yeah?” you shot him a look, almost concerned, “you seem to do a lot of thinking about his dick, anything you wanna tell me?” you teased, earning a joking punch to the shoulder.

“how charming,” he sneered, all you could do was laugh. he paused for a second as the moans began to die down. “there is something i wanna ask you, though.”

you stopped your typing, peeling your eyes off the screen in order to face him. “yeah, go ahead.” he seemed hesitant, a nervous smile crossing his face, and you couldn't help but worry about what was to come. “you can't say no right away, you have to hear me out,” he was only making it worse. “i'm supposed to go to this kid's frat party tomorrow night, and i wanna bring a guest, yeah?”

your face couldn't help but twist up in pure confusion. it wasn't that you were a total stone cold bitch that was gonna leave him high and dry, but you had never been to a party in your life. “and out of all the potential victims in this school, you wanna go with me?” he nodded, almost eagerly, as if the answer was supposed to be obvious. “duh, who else am i supposed to go with?” you could've inquired, but you didn't dare argue back, you didn't have the patience to. instead, you waited a second before agreeing. you didn't have to stay overnight, just a couple hours to keep taehyung company.

“okay, yeah, come to the dorm and we'll go, what time is it?” you asked as you closed your laptop, the painful silence from behind the door being a good enough sign that you could come back in. “i'll come by around eight, thanks for this, i owe you one.” you nodded as he gave you a hug goodbye, watching as he scurried down the hall and back to his own dorm.

you let out a sigh of exasperation, hand sliding down your face as the realization hit you. you didn't know the first thing about social gatherings, let alone about the ones with wannabe elite socialities that'll have too much to drink. the thought made your stomach churn as you reached for the doorknob, but before you could open the door, you had been beaten to it.

from the other side, the girl yoongi had brought to the dorm had swung the door open, stopping in her tracks as she locked eyes with you. she was a pretty girl, but the look she gave you was enough to make your blood boil. she didn't say a word, but the look itself was so nasty, you felt as dirty as she did. as she stomped away, you could hear the sound of yoongi's laughter from the room. “feisty one, isn't she?” he asked as you finally came in, making sure to lock the door this time. “charming girl, you sure know how to pick them,” you rolled your eyes.

he turned to face you as you walked in, wearing nothing but his short as he made himself comfortable, pressing a cigarette to his lips. the look you threw him was incredible, almost mimicking the one tonight's vencido shot you just a few seconds prior. “do you really have to smoke that shit in here?” you asked as he lit the tip of it. he raised an eyebrow, as if offended. “you got lung cancer?” the question had little to no relevance, but you shook your head. “then, what's the problem?”

“it smells like shit,” you hissed, waving your hand at the smoke drifting in your direction. he couldn't help but chuckle as he made his way over to the sofa, kicking his feet over the side. “hold your breath, open a window if you have to.” you scoffed as you watched his eyes close, cigarette tucked between his lips. you opened both of the windows in the room, greeting with fresh air with open arms. it was the last thing you had said to one another before you went to sleep, physically too tired to argue any further.

the following morning came too quickly, the sunlight from the window that had been, once again closed, practically blinding you, even while your eyes were closed. you could barely open them, head groggy as you powered through it. despite the bright rays, it wasn't what you saw that had awoken you from your slumber, but what you had heard.

it was about seven in the morning, maybe a few minutes last seven. whatever time it was, you knew it was too early to be listening to whatever it was you were listening to. you could make out two loud voices; one was yoongi's, the other belonged to a girl. for a second, your blood ran cold at the thought of him hooking up with a girl while you were awake, but the fear went away as your vision began to clear up. they were both half-naked; not fucking, just arguing.

“you're a fucking asshole, you've always been a fucking asshole,” the girl yelled, voice piercing your ears. you could make her frame out, definitely wasn't any of the past three girls that came in. she was much smaller than yoongi, her fists pounding against his chest but to avail as she continued to yell and cry. “you think fucking my best friend is funny, asshole? or the other sluts you have in here every fucking night? or the whore in your bed at seven in the morning?”

you scrunched your face up, offended at the assumption, but you remained in your position, not wanting them to notice your presence in case the situation worsened. “you better watch that fucking mouth of yours,” you heard yoongi respond. he didn't yell at her, he didn't hit back. his voice was almost stoic. “she's not a fucking whore, she's my roommate and she's sleeping, so either be quiet or get the fuck out.” you were almost pleased with his answer, it was the closest thing you'd ever get to him being nice to you. unfortunately, she didn't like that answer at all.

“get fucked, you son of a bitch,” was the last thing she said before leaving, and she didn't go quietly. she left the dorm with heavy footsteps and a deafening slam of the door. yoongi paused, reaping the insult with only a second of eerie calmness. when the wave of calm had passed, you felt your body jolt as he threw the television's remote control at the door, muttering a string of angry curses as he did so. only then did he turn around, watching the way you stared in surprise.

he tilted his head back down, almost as if he felt sorry, “sorry if i woke you up, go back to bed.” you shook your head, pushing the blanket off as you swung your legs off the bed. it was much too late to go back to sleep anyway. “all good, i gotta get to class anyway.” he raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter as he pressed another cigarette to his lips. you watched him light it up in shock, it was still seven in the morning.

“what the fuck kind of classes do you have this early?” you rolled your eyes as you brushed out your hair, getting done only what was necessary before leaving for your morning lecture. “management accounting,” you murmured a response. he raised his eyebrows, keeping his distance as he blew smoke into the air.

“studying finance, really?” you nodded in response, unable to tell if he was impressed or disgusted. “that's cool,” he said softly. “my step-dad studied finance, too. says it's a pain in the ass.”

perhaps you had were too comfortable in that moment, perhaps you were just too tired and out of it to register what was coming out of your mouth. “my mom studied finance, she was really good at it,” your eyes had locked, but only for a second. it wasn't long enough to carry too much significance, but not short enough to go unnoticed. you coughed, “i'm gonna go to class.” he nodded silently, watching you grab what you needed before heading towards the door. he watched you leave for your lecture, cigarette still pressed to his lips, but not before opening the window.

your classes had lasted longer than you had anticipated, the one hour mark stretching for another two hours. by the time you had finally finished, you felt the second wave of exhaustion flood your system. the morning wasn't even through, and you were ready to give up and go back to bed, but you couldn't. as you left the classroom, dreading whatever your schedule had in store for you next, you felt an arm sling around your shoulders as you walked down the hallway.

“hey, loser,” taehyung cooed in your ear, ruffling your hair as you scoffed, delivering a playful slap to his arm. “going to your morning classes like a good little geek, aren't you?” you rolled your eyes as you peeked at your schedule, smiling as you realized your next class was with your friend. “remember those words when you're working for me in ten years, jackass.”

he feigned offense as he placed his hand on his forehead in a dramatic fashion. “so so cruel, i would truly rather work at a gas station.” you couldn't help but laugh as you both made your way into the next classroom. you couldn't help but admire how elegant the classrooms were, truly a hit or miss product of capitalism. unfortunately, you weren't given much time to admire as you both stopped in your tracks in the middle of the room.

“min yoongi taking english literature,” taehyung was the first to react, equally as surprised as you were. he laughed as he walked up to his friend, who was seated in the back row, arms crossed with a faint smile on his face. “you do realize the class doesn't come with a free ashtray, right?” you faintly trailed behind him as they dapped each other up, the most unnecessary display of masculinity, you thought.

“yeah, don't be too shocked, my parents aren't paying for me to smoke all day,” yoongi responded. his faint smile grew more and more faint as he watched you come up behind taehyung. his gaze switched from you to him. “you two friends?”

you had opened your mouth to say something along the lines of “none of your fucking business,” but your friend was much quicker than you. taehyung wrapped his arm around your shoulders once more, ruffling your hair as you protested. “(y/n)? no, she's my hostage, as you can see.” you sighed in defeat, knowing it was no use. “you're such an ass,” you hissed. yoongi didn't say a word, he just stared. his gaze continued to flicker, but he remained quiet. even as you found your seat next to taehyung, just across from yoongi, he stayed quiet. silent, though his gaze never left the two of you, and you could almost feel it.

morning classes seemed to be the last of your problems as the day went on. everything was normal until you returned to your dorm, the panic you had been fighting since last night finally settling as you checked the time. you had exactly an hour to get ready before taehyung would come to pick you up. exactly an hour to find an outfit, put some decent makeup on, and get the courage to not pussy out. yoongi was nowhere to be found as you entered the dorm.

your wardrobe wasn't necessarily limited, as you had brought everything that could fit you. anything that couldn't was given to charity before you rented out the house, it was the smartest thing to do. you kept everything in a narrow closet, alongside some jewellry your mother had kept in a dainty box. it was a weird sensation, even after so many years, running your fingers through the fabric would never not strain your heart. you gulped back the melancholic nostalgia as you raked through the clothes. finally, you pulled out a dress hanging from above, one that had caught your eye.

it was anything unlike you had ever worn, because it wasn't yours. it was a dress your mother had worn when she was just a bit younger than you. despite what she believed in, she was the life of the party, unlike you. she knew how to let loose, and she wasn't afraid to express herself through her clothes. the dress was almost skimpy, she loved giving men the wrong impression. she loved knowing they could look because, they'd be looking either way, but they could never have her. she was in control, and the dress was gorgeous. a gold dress with thin straps, entirely tight and made to hug the body of whoever chose to wear it. it wasn't what you were used to, not at all. you loved the fact that it was pretty, but you loved the fact that your mother felt pretty in it even more.

if it wasn't her dress, you were entirely sure you wouldn't have liked it. the sensation of putting it on and embracing it was even weirder than the feeling of finding it. nonetheless, you slipped into the dress as you stood in front of the mirror. the dress was even more beautiful on you rather than in your hands. it was just as you imagined—tight, hugging every part of your body from your chest to your thighs, but beautiful. the light from the room did it more than enough justice, it glimmered.

even as you did your makeup, you couldn't help but give all your attention to the dress. it made you feel warm on the inside, the fact that you had a part of your mother clinging to your skin. it was as if she had never left. when you finished, with your face touched up, the heels you wanted, and the gold ring on your finger, all you could do was admire the dress in the mirror.

“holy shit,” were the words that finally snapped you back to reality, your body jolting as your head turned to the source of the sound. you hated how bad your instincts were when you were distracted, it was one of the reasons why taehyung could tease you as much as he did without you reacting. you froze, not knowing what to do.

“shit, i didn't mean to scare you, i'm sorry,” yoongi continued. he was equally as frozen as you were, having stopped himself in his tracks as he stared at you, eyes scanning you from head to toe. “it's just that you look really nice. the dress is—really nice.”

you almost felt bad for staying quiet. it wasn't that you were ungrateful, you just didn't know what to say. for a moment amidst your silence, yoongi continued to admire you for a moment longer, turning on his heel when he realized you had gone mute. “wait,” you practically blurted out, stopping him in his tracks once more. “thank you. it was my mom's.”

he didn't turn back around, but he remained in place as he felt his heart tighten at your words. “doesn't fit her anymore?” his tone was almost hopeful, as if he was hoping that would be the case. you went quiet for a second, before the answer came out entirely too quickly, as if you had thrown it up. “it would've if she was still here. she passed away, few years ago.”

you regret it the second it had come out, but that was the thing about word vomit; just like regular vomit, you could never take it back. now, it was his turn to be silent. you were entirely sure that you had creeped him the fuck out, but he felt that it was far from that. his heart tightened, it wasn't the answer he was hoping for. he responded as he turned around, finally facing you. “i'm sorry,” he murmured. “my dad passed away some years back, too. storm was bad.” he had mentioned his step-father, but never his actual dad. you felt for him, and he felt for you.

you opened your mouth, ready to offer some form of support, but the distinct pounding on the door was quick to cut you off. “come in,” yoongi muttered out, loud enough for whoever it was to here. taehyung wasted no time opening the door, practically cheering as he came in, unable to read the room.

“is my hostage ready?” his voice had dropped a few octaves as he neared the end of the question, walking into the room as he locked eyes with you. it was something about you in the dress rather than the dress itself, and yoongi was quick to notice his reaction.

“what're you doing here?” he asked taehyung, fighting back the urge to roll his eyes at his shell-shocked reaction. for a second, he focused. “i'm here for (y/n), we're going to the wang party.” never had you heard of that name in your life.

yoongi raised an eyebrow before turning back to you. “you didn't say you were going to jackson wang's shitty frat party,” he sounded almost displeased. you shrugged, “what's it to you?” you and taehyung exchanged a glance as yoongi scoffed, the agitation expanding.

“his entire frat has a thing for roofies and rape,” he paused to shoot taehyung a look. “but i'm sure your friend already told you about that.”

it was your turn to shoot taehyung a look, who already had his hands up. “you really think i'd let something happen to her?” he asked, his tone slightly colder than usual. yoongi scoffed at the rhetorical question, “go on, then,” was all he uttered out.

you knew you didn't need any help, and that you were perfectly capable of handling yourself, which included the decisions you made. still, it didn't change the fact that leaving the dorm held more tension than it was supposed to. taehyung shut the door as you left, leaving yoongi in distress that he chose not to make obvious. instead, he chose to ignore the way it nagged him as he turned the television on, hoping it would just go away.

“roofies and rape? you guys are such a fucking cliché,” you muttered as you made your way down the hall with your friend. as oblivious as you were, for taehyung, it was a blessing, because you failed to notice the glances sent your way. he thought you were gorgeous, he thought the dress was gorgeous, up to the point where he could barely register what you were saying. “okay, yeah, ignore yoongi. i told you, i'm not gonna let anything happen, no way.” you knew he wouldn't, but you couldn't shake the feeling of unease as taehyung knocked on the door. the way yoongi acted, the way he talked, it was such a drastic and quick shift.

the generic music and cheers weren't audible until the door opened, you began wondering who you had to ask to get a thick door like that for some very necessary sound blockage. the guy who opened the door was familiar, you were sure you had seen him around campus before. “what's up, jackson?” they greeted each other with a laugh before the guy turned to you, with an almost unsettling spark in his eyes as he did so.

“good to see you, tae,” he spoke a little louder in order to combat the loud music. “and who do we have here?” the flickering colorful lights lit up the room, and you could make out what seemed to be hundreds of people in there, much to your disbelief. there was no logical reason for there to be that many people at one dorm party.

you introduced yourself, a friendly but equally forced smile on your face. “yeah, you're yoongi's roommate, aren't you?” you nodded in response, and you could tell that jackson wasn't too pleased with your roommate. “we should get you a drink then, make it easier to deal with him.” you feinged a laugh as you agreed, shooting taehyung a desperate look. you didn't need to say anything as you followed jackson in, your friend has already burned holes in the back of his head with his glare.

“i'll get us drinks, is that cool?” he could've sworn he saw jackson's face flash with disappointment, but the host obliged, nonetheless. you knew it was the best way for you to not get your virginity taken by the proclaimed roofie rapist, but you couldn't help but panic as taehyung left, even if it was for a good cause.

everybody was a sweaty, drunk mess. the party had started a mere fifteen minutes ago, yet the dorm was packed to the brim with careless, leering students looking to blow some steam off. you found yourself with your pressed against the wall as you created as much distance as possible. “i'm guessing it's your first frat party,” jackson said, only a few feet away from you. you avoided eye contact as best as you could, though you could barely hear him. “first party in general,” you corrected him. “not really my type of scene.”

he chuckled as he closed a few inches of distance off between you two. “that's what i figured,” you quite literally had nowhere to go, with the wall pressing into your back. “must be why you came with your boyfriend, right?” you laughed, but it wasn't in a mocking way, as if you had taken slight offense. “no, taehyung's not my boyfriend, i don't do boyfriends.” you made sure to put emphasis on the last bit.

jackson raised his eyebrows, taking a mere step closer as the lights flashed. he wasn't an unattractive guy, but you needed to take caution. “all the girls here tend to come with their boyfriends,” he gestured towards the many couples easily spotted behind him, all of them a sweaty mess of hormones, grinding and kissing without a care in the world. “rumor's going around that i'm not a nice guy, so they wanna be careful,” you couldn't tell if he was covering his tracks or not, but he was too close to your face, and the alcohol on his breath was no consolation. “what about you? you think i'm a nice guy?”

you couldn't tell if he was being serious or not, and you truly didn't know how to answer. his eyes bored into yours as a smirk played on your face, your mouth open but no word vomit. before you could waste another second thinking, you glanced at his side, watching taehyung stride over with two drinks, as if on time.

“here you go,” he broke the silence, and relief washed over you. once again, jackson attempted to mask his disappointment with a smile. taehyung handed you a glass of something clear, strong. you knew it was strong, whatever it was, but the tension was so cruel, you couldn't help but down the contents of the cup, as if to ease how unsettled you felt.

whatever it was left a disgusting taste in your mouth, almost like nail polish. your friend watched you, almost concerned, while jackson let out a laugh. “i have a feeling it isn't your first time,” a comment that earned him a glare and a half. you shook your head, “i'm not a drinker,” you argued. “but i'll take more of it.”

this time, taehyung pulled you to his side. “great idea, let's go,” he urged, earning him the third look of disappointment of the night, but he paid no mind. he knew that no reaction, was the best reaction. a frown formed on your face as he dragged you through the tight crowd, leading you to the coolers on the wooden table. he shot you a look, “stay away from jackson,” was all he said as he passed you another drink, this time, a can from the cooler. something less strong to kill the burning sensation in your throat. all you could do was nod.

by the time you had gotten your fair share of drinks down your system, the atmosphere around you began to shift drastically. it was less tense, more refreshing. the more lightheaded you felt, the easier it was to let loose. the worse your vision had become, the more flushed you felt as your blood pumped. you had left taehyung's side, the succumbing to the foreign feeling as you joined the crowd despite his calls of disapproval. you knew he'd come after you, but you didn't care. all you could focus on was absolutely nothing. you just liked the way it felt, swaying to the music as if nothing mattered. unfortunately, everything mattered, and not everyone was as unaware as you were. jackson watched you from the sidelines, and he was focused, despite the many drinks that were clashing in his system. he couldn't not focus on you.

as the night wore on, situations varied. in one dorm, the music was loud. the flashing lights provided no sanctuary, and the drinks were practically freezing despite the immense heat. in one dorm, everybody was having a fantastic time. in another dorm, the silence was deafening.

yoongi had put out what may have been his final cigarette of the night. his throat had grown tight, and his stomach had started to churn. he knew it wasn't because of the cigarettes, no. he had put so many of them out just to ease the aching concerns in his mind as he watched the clock tick. a minute had past, followed by an hour. then, another hour. by the time the box was empty, it was almost midnight, and he couldn't think. with his fingers intertwined, nose pressed against them, he let out a sigh. why were you still there? why hadn't you come back yet? did something happen? it was all he could think about. it wasn't that he cared, he just didn't want anything to happen to you; it'd put his reputation in a tough spot, seeing as you were his roommate and all. at least, that's what he wanted to believe in.

the sound of the clock ticking was almost mocking, as was the way the hand moved in the slowest fashion possible. when another fifteen minutes had passed, he glanced at the door, hoping he'd see you stumble in. maybe not sober, but alive and untouched. when the last speck of hope faltered, he found himself pulling his weight off the couch. “fuck this,” he practically spat, snatching the door keys off the drawer before making his way out.

you were unaware of what was happening behind the door, outside of your makeshift sanctuary. you had finally reached the point of betrayal, only then could you see why you had avoided alcohol for so long. as your head span, so did the room. the burning sensation in the pit of your stomach had quickly replaced the short-lived euphoria you had felt up until then. as your dancing faltered, you found yourself tumbling in the opposite direction, practically tripping over your own two feet.

before you could cause yourself any harm, you felt a familiarly unfamiliar touch embrace your waist, preventing you from falling onto your back. for a second, everything went quiet, relief coursing through your veins. the relief was as short-lived as the bliss. “caught you just in time, didn't i?” you heard jackson murmur, his breath hot against your ear. your vision was blurry, and you were slurring your words as if you had a lisp. you didn't want him to know how drunk you were, you didn't want him to take advantage of it, but he was no fool. “yeah, thanks'o much,” he only chuckled in response.

in an attempt to pull yourself away from him, you found yourself staring at him face-to-face, as his grip never left your waist. you could barely make out his figure, let alone muster the strength to run away. your mouth was open, but it was as if your brain was too slow to form any sentences. “feel bad, don't you?” his voice was soft, almost comforting but borderline mocking. all you could do was nod. “we should go, get you taken care of. my friend's gotta spare room, yeah?”

your hands were pressed up against his chest, as if in attempt to push away from him, but no force was emitted. under any other circumstances, you'd have had no problem leaving, but things just weren't playing in your favor. he smirked, leaning in towards your face as his hot breath fanned your neck, nose grazing the side of your jaw. you pressed your eyes shut, hoping it would all go away, but it never did.

“it's a shame your friend left you here,” he practically purred in your ear. his fingers grazed your collarbone as his free hand slid down your hip, reaching to cup your ass as he let out a sigh at the feeling. “pretty thing like you, nothing good's bound to happen, right?” you couldn't fight back. for the first time in forever, you couldn't fight back, and you hated it. you hated how you were at his disposal, there for him to use without a care in the world. you kept your eyes shut, still hoping it would all stop and go away. and finally, it did.

it didn't go away quietly—within seconds, you could feel a tight grip ripping you away from jackson, a force so aggressive, you felt your heart stop for a split second. you felt as if you didn't need to second-guess who it was, thinking taehyung had finally located you and came to your rescue, but your suspicions were denied once you turned around. “what the fuck is wrong with you?” despite being free from his grasp, jackson's yell made you wince. he came closer once more, but he didn't face you this time.

yoongi came just as close as he did, mere inches away from his face as he levelled with him. “dunno, jackson, she looks pretty drunk to me,” he sneered in his face. you were behind yoongi, with one of his arms pressing into your front in an attempt to block the distance between you and jackson. by that point, the music had started to falter, and people were growing more and more interested in the scene that was unfolding. “you can take the roofies and rape bullshit somewhere else, i'll fucking kill you and you know it.”

for a second, jackson almost seemed hesitant to react, as if he was scared of the man in front of him. that second passed, but it didn't go unnoticed before he chose his next words, “i should leave my bullshit here and fuck her 'till she's sober, in case you wanted to watch.” had he chosen anything else to say, maybe the situation wouldn't have escalated the way it did so fast. because, in one swift motion, jackson plummeted into the ground beneath his feet, his neck bending backwards in an almost animated way as yoongi's fist collided with the bottom of his jaw.

“holy shit,” was all you could breathe out, screams emitting from the crowd of people behind you as you watched jackson's bloody gums shine under the lights. your body told you to move forward, pressing into yoongi's arm as you took a step towards jackson. the man beside you almost instantly looked back at you as he pushed you off with just enough force to make you stumble back.

for a second, you and yoongi locked eyes. your eyebrows furrowed, a look of concern in your eyes mixed with the profound melancholy of a lack of thoughts. your brain was moving too slow, you thought you looked stupid, but he thought you looked beautiful. it pissed him off how beautiful you looked, and it was all you could see in his eyes. anger, anger, anger. anger, and a speck of something else that you couldn't quite figure out.

“you've gotta be fucking joking,” your head snapped towards the source of the sound, and you spotted taehyung rushing to your side. first, all of his anger was directed towards jackson, but the anger quickly shifted to your roommate once he realized jackson had been dealt with. “where do you get off shoving her?” yoongi scoffed at the question, watching the way your friend came up to you from behind, his annoyingly protective hands cupping your shoulders as he watched you, hoping to see you were okay.

“where do you get ditching her in a place like this?” was yoongi's response. everything went quiet, too quiet, as he and taehyung locked eyes. you were afraid, too afraid that your friend would end up in the same position as jackson. “it's crowded, i went to the bathroom and couldn't find her,” taehyung's defense was reasonable, as you had given him permission to go, promising you'd be fine for a minute or so before making your way to the dance floor. yoongi laughed, but there was no humor to be traced, “that's funny seeing as i found her the second i came in here.”

the silence physically made your stomach twist, and they could both see it from the way your abdomen clenched as you bent forward. people had started whipping their phones out, snapping photos ane taking videos as hushed whispers began to fill the air. “let's get you out of here,” taehyung murmured, ignoring what yoongi said as to avoid any further discomfort, but you knew yoongi. everybody knew him. as your friend pulled you by one arm, leading you towards the exit, you both stopped in your tracks. from your other side, yoongi kept his grip on your hand tight. you couldn't fully grasp the situation, but his unfamiliar touch had a different feeling than jackson's. they were both foreign, but only one was welcomed.

“go home, taehyung,” yoongi uttered out, and oncr again, they locked eyes. the tension was palpable, and you couldn't stand the way their cold gazes matched one another so well. when taehyung's eyes left his, they met yours. you wanted to go home so bad, the situation was killing you from the inside. so, you held his gaze and nodded. he let out a sigh as he let your arm go, ever so hesitantly. “i'll call you,” was what he said before he finally turned on his heel. yoongi practically sneered—“no, you won't,” was what he so badly wanted to say.

the morning which had followed was no easier than the previous night. you couldn't remember the last time you felt so sore, the pounding in your head never seeming to ease. you blinked, more than what was deemed natural, as you opened your eyes to the blinding sunlight. you could hear your roommate, but had yet to see him. “weather's getting colder,” was what you could make out as you propped yourself onto your elbows. “enjoy the sun while it lasts.” unfortunately, he had a point. you stopped straining your eyes, allowing the sunlight to do its work. now, you could see him, standing next to the open window with a cigarette in his hand.

“what time is it?” you asked, exhaustion laced in your voice as your brain had begun picking up the pieces of last night's rezendevous. “about ten,” your head snapped, realizing you had missed two of your morning classes. “but don't even think about going anywhere.” you looked up to meet his gaze as he blew smoke out the window.

your whole body was tense, and only when you stepped out from under the covers did you realize just how right he was about the weather. “why's it so fucking cold?” you couldn't help but ask, the borderline freezing weather leaving a sour taste in your mouth. “it's almost winter,” yoongi responded, just as dryly. “fucking hate winter.” you let out a humorless laugh, as if to agree. if there was one thing to agree on, it was that.

your phone vibrated on your desk, and as you peered over to see who had been bugging you so early in the morning, taehyung's face flashed on the screen once more. “so annoying,” yoongi spoke once more. “he's been doing that all morning.” you shot him a look as you scurried to pick up your phone, “and you didn't think to answer him?” you asked, watching him take the last drag of his cigarette. he shrugged you off, earning an eye roll as you finally picked up taehyung's call.

“thank god, everything okay?” you heard his panicked voice from the other side, before even getting a chance to greet him. “yeah, just woke up,” you murmured, your heart pounding as you recalled just how bad it had gotten the night prior. you could recall the drinks, the lights, jackson. most importantly, you could recall yoongi, and how he had rushed in, potentially stopping you from getting assaulted. the phone was pressed against your ear as you looked up to meet his eyes once more. from the way he looked at you, you knew he recalled it just as well. because, he looked at you as if he wanted nothing to happen to you.

“i'm really sorry for leaving, i should've held it in a little longer,” your friend's apologetic voice rang once more. you shook your head as if he was there, but your eyes never left yoongi's, “no. tae, it's alright. it would've happened either way, it's not your fault.” you could've sworn yoongi's gaze dropped at the mention of his name, but either way, the eye contact had finally broken. you spoke to your friend a minute longer, dismissing his apologies and promising you'd see each other for lunch. he wanted you to spend it with him and his friends, seeing as that would be much safer than being alone. you complied.

when you finally hung up, you allowed yourself to face reality once more. “there's advil in the cabinet,” yoongi spoke. this time, his tone was colder than anticipated. you thanked him, allowing yourself to get ready for whatever it was the universe had in store for you.

by the time lunch had rolled around, you found yourself waiting for your friend once more. this time, for a much safer setting. taehyung and his friends normally spent that period outside, taking up a bench or two while they hung out. as you walked with him, you could feel just how unfamiliar and harsh the air had grown. he noticed your discomfort, but said nothing, as you were near the spot anyway.

you couldn't recognize any of his friends. sure, you had seen them around campus. maybe even in a class or two, but you knew none of them personally. all but one. as you walked up to the bench, yoongi was the last to notice you, but the first to meet your gaze. “this is (y/n), she's gonna be joining us today,” taehyung introduced you, and you forced a smile. the smile was returned as the boys introduced themselves, all but one. yoongi remained silent, but never took his eyes off you. all of the boys were locals, all from daegu, but all of them seemed to harbor the same personality as taehyung, regarding the rich people bullshit. they seemed nice, down-to-earth, until the questions rolled in.

“you were at that party last night, weren't you?” one of the boys, who had introduced himself as dongwon, asked. though hesitant, you nodded, earning a sound of astonishment from him. “yeah, jackson's a real asshole. he didn't put his hands on you, did he?” you tensed up at the thought, with dongwon earning a look of disapproval from taehyung. you weren't the only one uncomfortable—from the corner of your eye, you could see yoongi fidget with his fingers, perhaps at the mention of what went down last night.

“no, not really,” you responded, recalling the way he had you backed up against the wall, the way his fingers so desperately waited for further access beside your waist. “not really?” dongwon repeated, as if confused. “what exactly do you mean by that?”

you shrugged, as if hesitant to go into further detail. “he didn't get to do much touching, nothing too bad,” you paused, watching the way nearly all of them listened carefully. “tried to kiss me, had his hand on my ass but that's really all—” before you could finish your thought, everybody's attention shifted to yoongi, who had pushed himself off the bench and onto his feet, throwing his can into the bin behind him more aggressive than necessary. “yoongi, what's your deal—” once again, you found yourself being cut off by the same man. once he was on his feet, his grip was on your elbow, practically dragging you away from the group and back into the school.

you thrashed, but it was no use, you couldn't pull yourself out of his grasp. he was too strong and too determined, as he pulled you into the first empty hallway he could find. once he had found the spot, you found yourself in an all too familiar position, with your back pressed against the wall. “what the fuck is wrong with you?” you hissed, but your voice was weaker than usual. you didn't know if it was because of last night's antics, or because of the current tension. “what's wrong with me?” he repeated, tone equally as harsh. “where do you get off talking about shit like that?”

now, you were just confused. “what the hell are you talking about? he asked me a question.” yoongi rolled his eyes, you truly had no idea why he was so mad. especially at you, what was it that you said wrong? “why didn't you call me when he touched you?” this time, his tone was more gentle, and the confusion had been replaced with shock. “if i had come in a second later,” he stopped himself mid-sentence, not wanting to imagine just how much the situation could have escalated.

your face softened at his words, it was almost like he felt guilty for not having stopped you when he had the chance. “you came,” you said. “you came, and i'm grateful you did.” your words comforted him, just a little bit. in the end, the important part was that someone intervened. even if it happened to be your roommate. for a moment, you saw him smile, but perhaps it was too much. he knew it was, so he followed it up with an eye roll, “it was a pain in the ass, had to watch over you, missed breakfast and lunch and everything,” he paused, as if the lightbulb in his head came to light. “you owe me lunch.”

you owed him lunch, and it took every cell in you to avoid ripping his head off his neck. it was the least you could do, it really was. it wasn't like you didn't know how to cook, of course you did. it was one of the first things your mother had made sure she taught you on time. but it was something about the almost smug smile he was wearing as he made himself comfortable on the chair, while you whisked away by the stove. “and don't even think about poisoning it,” you heard his taunting voice from behind. “the death penalty's legal now.”

for a moment, you even considered it. you opted for one of your mother's recipes, seeing as your roommate wasn't specific with what he wanted. truly, he didn't care. he just wanted to eat, with the appetizer being an excuse to fuck around with you. the specific recipe you were using had been passed around from one generation, all the way to your mother. the stew itself was something anyone could make, but nobody could make it the way your did. in fact, it was so special, the only people she ever shared it with were you and your father.

“it smells good,” yoongi murmured, his eyes glued to your frame as you carefully removed the pot off the stove, turning the heat off. you smiled to yourself as you retrieved a bowl from the csbinet above, “thanks.” never had you tried the recipe out for yourself, it was your first time and you were determined to make it work.

he waited patiently as you scooped the stew out, dumping it into the bowl. he watched your every move, from the way you pushed the loose strands of your hair away from your forehead, to how you carried the bowl with grace he swore was there. the stew was served with a bowl of rice for him, and a side of radishes. you heaved a sigh as you sat next to him, hands sore. everything was there, picture perfect for him, but he kept his focus on you.

“well,” you urged. “go on, then.” only then did his gaze drop. he stared at the red liquid, allowing the spicy scent to grace his nostrils. it was comforting, and all too familiar to him. the scent itself sent a sharp jab to his chest, he was too familiar with it.

his suspicions didn't ease as he scooped a spoonful of the stew, he had reached a new level of excitement. you analyzed him carefully, hoping for a promising reaction. it was exactly what you were going to get. “holy shit,” he uttered out, his mouth full. his instincts hadn't failed him, the scent was familiar and the taste only confirmed what he had been thinking. “is this your recipe?” for a second, you hesitated, but shook your head. “no,” you assured softly. “it was my mother's, why? is it any good?”

the answer itself was all too obvious as he continued to fill his mouth with the product, swallowing within seconds just to help himself some more. it was as if he hadn't eaten in years. “it's amazing,” he praised, and your face lit up. you couldn't help but smile as he neared the end of the bowl. “it tastes exactly the one my step-dad used to make.” you were skeptical, as there was no way that was possible, but took the compliment.

“generational recipe,” you explained, a twinge of grief to your voice. “it was all we ate when winter came along.” the memories weren't as pleasant as the taste itself; you found yourself recalling the days there truly wasn't anything else to eat, but you never complained. you never got tired of the taste.

yoongi seemed to notice the way your tone shifted, even while draining what was left of the meal. “i get it,” was what he found himself saying. at first, you thought it was just empty comforting. “the cold took a toll on us, too. fucking hate the winter.” out of all people, you never imagined opening up to min yoongi, let alone him opening up to you. let alone him understanding you. for a second, there was nothing but silence, and the way you found yourself staring at him. you had been looking at him with the same eyes since you've met him, but this time was different. this time, you looked at each other in a way you never have before.

in a split second, the moment had passed. your phone had started to ring again, and you found yourself cursing whoever it was. taehyung, probably. you swore you'd kill him if it was him pestering you again, but it wasn't. your screen flashed, reading “no caller id” in white, bold letters. yoongi shot you a concerning glance going unnoticed as you excused yourself, leaving the room.

once you were a room away from yoongi, you answered the call with a simple, “hello?” you didn't know exactly what you were expecting to hear, nor who. maybe someone had the wrong number, or it was a spam caller. you had your list of possibilities and expectations, all but one. “(y/n)? is it you?” the voice on the other line was deep, scratchy, rough. above all else, it was familiar. the second you heard it, your blood ran cold and your heart grew weak. it had never crossed your mind, so you refused to believe it was happening. “yes,” you responded weakly, weary of your roommate in the other room. “who is this?”

in the back of your mind, you knew exactly who it was. you could see his face, and you could hear his voice. you had done your best, for years on end, to block it from your memory, but to no avail. “(y/n), you know exactly who this is,” he said, voice all but steady. your fingers quivered, breathing heavy as you did your best to keep it together. “please, sweetheart. i'm back at the house, where's your mother? where are you? come over, we have to talk.” and for a split second, the room was silent. you couldn't muster up the words you so badly needed to say, not while you blood was hot, not while your head was heavy. the shock had finally turned to anger, and you couldn't deal with it.

“you asshole,” you finally breathed out, your eyes stinging with tears that threatened to spill. “you have some fucking nerve, you asshole.” it was all that was going through your head—asshole, asshole, asshole. how could he possibly have the courage, after so long?

from the other line, your father heaved a sigh, as if symapthetic. almost as if he was ashamed. “honey, i know i'm the last person you wanna hear from right now—” you had reached your limit, patience growing thin. you knew being rational wasn't an option, not with your knees threatening to give out from under you. “she's dead, you son of a bitch,” your voice was barely above a whisper. finally, he went quiet. it was your turn to talk. “she's dead and it's all your fault, dead. she's dead, you left her, and she's dead.”

so badly did you want to keep it together, but it was no use. your whispering had gone an octave up, hands furiously quivering as the tears came running down your face. your lips were swollen, hair plastered to your forehead with sweat as you failed against the sobs that were escaping from your throat. “i'm sorry,” were the words that finished you off. with a sob, you finally hung up. you should've done it the second you heard his voice, but it was too late. his words echoed in your head, even as you tossed your phone onto the floor, ignoring the sound of fatal cracks. you couldn't keep it together, you couldn't hold it in.

he had watched the whole scene unfold, much to your dismay. you realized it the second you held your head up. tears spilled from your eyes, and you were finally falling apart. yoongi stood there, just feet away. he stared, his eyes wide with shock as he watched you. something had awoken in him as he watched the way you held your face in your hands, sobs rocking your body. he watched you, but not for long. not wall you were so close to collapsing.

your legs were about to give out, but they never did. you were falling, but never did you hit the ground. he was right there, right beside you, arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in so that you wouldn't fall. never in your life had you felt more grateful, more safe. you held onto the fabric of his shirt, and he didn't dare let go of you. you were fragile. in that moment, you were on the verge of breaking, and he wasn't going to let it happen. so, he pulled you close. his arms were wrapped around your frame, hand on the back of your head as he pushed your face into the crook of his neck.

he could feel the way you shook under his touch, and it broke his heart. his heart hurt for you. gentle strokes were delivered to your hair as he hushed you, and all you could do was cry. he didn't stop, not until your sobs died down. “was that your dad?” was what he finally asked, careful with his words as to not worsen the situation. all you could do was nod, and it was enough for him to keep quiet. all he could do was hold you, and that was exactly what he did. it was the comfort you had been longing for.

when you had finally calmed down, when the embrace had broken, you didn't know what to think. you cursed yourself for succumbing to your emotions as quickly as you did, you cursed yourself for breaking down. it made you wonder, what was it that made you feel so safe with him? what was it that made your heart flutter, that put your mind at ease? you were no fool, all you needed to do was remember what was engraved in your mind—cold as ice, hard as stone. never choose men over being alone. it was what had kept you afloat for so long, but it wasn't what was in your heart. it wasn't what made you feel safe, not the way you did with him.

he found himself cursing the way he found himself acting with you. it was unlike him, it was out of character for him. why, all of a sudden? why was he coming to your rescue, eating your meals? why was the urge to protect you stronger than the urge to protect his pride? it was all he thought about, why was it different with you? he didn't like different, different meant unfamiliar. he didn't like how vulnerable he was with you, how safe he felt with you. he never played safe, why start? why risk it all? he needed a distraction, and he was determined to find it.

thankfully, he knew just where to look. that night, you had gone to sleep earlier than usual, with only one thing on your mind. what had happened that day replayed in your head, but only the part you wanted to think about. him. you fell asleep thinking about him, dreading how quiet it was without his presence. he wasn't far, just two dorms over.

“hey,” he greeted almost the second the door opened, as if he was in a rush. he allowed himself to come in, despite the several yelps of disapproval. “got too much on my mind, needed to see you.” he didn't need to do anything, all he wanted was to be distracted. so, he did it the only way he knew how.

the girl scoffed, but closed the door behind him. “you should've called. what? you missed me?” the question sent a chill down his spine. no, no, no. it's what he so badly wanted to say. he didn't miss her, he didn't want her. he didn't need her the way he needed you, but he didn't want to need you. he didn't want to need anybody. to him, everybody was unreliable. everybody was waiting to ruin him. he knew he was making a mistake, but he was ready. above all else, he was ready.

“take your clothes off,” he uttered out. “and you'll see how much i missed you.”

the following morning, you had gotten up earlier than you wanted to. the basket of dirty clothes had filled up again, and someone had to take care of it. when you opened your eyes, yoongi was nowhere to be found. it made you get up faster than usual, panic coursing through your veins as you searched for him. he wasn't there. while you were in your feet, headed towards the basket, he still wasn't there. you tried to calm yourself down, assuring yourself he'd walk through the door soon enough. this time, you were right.

as you picked the basket up, you heard the doorknob jiggle. he had finally come home, just before seven in the morning. he seemed tired, as if he had got done running a marathon. the tiresome expression switched to a look of shock the second he saw you. for a moment, all you did was look at each other. “where've you been?” you finally broke the silence. the question should have been expected, but he didn't know how to answer. how could he, after everything? he gulped, thinking of what to say. so, he did what he did best. he lied.

“drinking with dongwon,” the lie came out smoother than intended, smooth enough for your worries to falter. you only nodded in response. he felt awful for lying, why do it in the first place? you had seen him in much more promiscuous situations with a variety of women, what was the issue now? he knew he couldn't, not after yesterday—after everything. his eyes shifted to the basket in your hands. “taking the clothes down to the washer?” again, all you could do was nod. you had nothing to say, you were just glad he was alright. “would you take this, too?” you watched him gesture to the shirt he had on, and complied.

all you could do was stand there as he peeled his collared shirt off, it was best not to look, but oh so difficult. desperate to ditch the embarrassment, you placed the shirt into the basket, and brushed past him.

the minute you left the room, once again did he curse himself. once time, for what he did. “fuck,” was all he could say.

the washing machine belonged to the campus, and students were free to use it as much as they needed to. people had grown more aware of how challenging it was for students to make it on their own while studying, so they did their best to help. you wanted to make a quick trip, shoving the clothes into the machine as fast as you could, but something caught your eye. all of the clothes in the bin had been worn over and over again, all but yoongi's shirt. he had a different outfit on the previous day, but came back wearing a new shirt. you had presumed it was stained with alcohol, but decided to check, just in case.

maybe things had gotten out of hand while he was drinking, but you didn't remember seeing any stains. the shirt itself was clean, from what you could tell. white stained easily. it wasn't until your hands pulled the collar upwards, did you see what the problem really was. at first, you ignored the pungent smell. the shirt reeked of cheap, fruity perfume that lit your nostrils up, and it made your stomach churn. maybe dongwon had a few girls over to drink with them, it was what you hoped for. why did it matter? it had nothing to do with you. it would've been the best case, but it wasn't. you realized it wasn't the moment you lifted the collar.

the rim of the collar was stained with lipstick. bright pink lipstick. the sight of it made your heart fall, you practically felt it in your stomach. “asshole,” you breathed out, fingers clutching the fabric. you didn't know why it made you so upset, you didn't know why the sight of it made you so angry. why was he lying about it? it wasn't the first time, and you believed it wouldn't be the last. it was all you could think about, and it hurt more than you wanted it to.

you had spent the following weeks ignoring yoongi as best as you could. unfortunately, living with him didn't make it easier for you. you did your best, unable to shake the feeling of betrayal. weeks passed, and you still didn't know why it hurt you as much as it did. you couldn't bare talking to him, afraid of lashing out. losing your temper, everything you had strived for so long.

he had noticed a shift in the atmosphere from that point on, brushing it off at first. maybe you were just having a bad day, is what he had been telling himself the first few days. those days quickly turned into weeks, and nothing was the same. his comments were ignored, even his provocations and jokes. his questions were answered abruptly and coldly. he dismissed the idea of you figuring out what he had done, as he believed there was no way for you to find out, but nothing explained the way you were acting. not even the smoking and closed windows bothered you anymore.

you spent as much time with taehyung as you possibly could. if you had classes, you'd attend them alone and in silence. all your free time was spent with taehyung, not that he minded. he was the only person you told what happened, from start to finish. you told him everything, even the bits he already knew, like what happened at the party.

“you like him, don't you?” he asked the question you had been so scared of facing, let alone answering. you tried to play it off as a joke, laughing it off, but never answering. he watched you carefully, a frown on his face. he didn't need an answer, he knew it just as well as you did. you liked him. he didn't know where to go from there, all he could do was watch you, and every move of yours gave him his answer. you couldn't keep the eye contact, your fingers toyed with your hair as you stayed quiet. he knew you liked him.

that night, he thought about it. he thought about it so much, he found himself standing outside with yoongi, in the cold air. he thought about it so much, he found himself with one of yoongi's cigarettes between his lips. there was something off about him, yoongi saw it. taehyung, who was once one of his closest friends, had grown cold, hostile. taehyung didn't pay mind to how his behavior had grown strange, he only had one thing on his mind.

“she knows,” were the words that broke the silence. yoongi froze, cigarette burning between his lips. he stayed silent, couldn't say a thing. “she knows you fucked that girl.” yoongi scoffed, but he couldn't ignore how fast his heart was pounding. the increasing anxiety wasn't detectable, he did his best to ignore it. “don't know what you're talking about.”

now, it was taehyung's turn to scoff. he didn't make eye contact with his friend, taking a drag of his cigarette as he stared into the night sky. “you're a pussy,” his words finally got the attention he was looking for. “she's this great girl, y'know? she's this beautiful, smart girl and she likes you. and i wish i knew why. but, hey, what do you know? you like her, you like this great girl, but you're too big of a pussy to do anything about it.”

“you don't know shit,” yoongi practically spat at him, too defensive for his own good. he faced his friend, but taehyung remained stoic. in his heart, yoongi knew every bit of it was true. he only returned the stance as he neared the end of his cigarette, throwing it onto the ground beneath him and stepping over it. “you're right, i don't know shit,” taehyung spat back. “you like each other, but don't do shit about it. fuck around with her some more, 'till she realizes she can do better than you.” those were the last words taehyung said to him, before walking away. it took everything in him to not punch yoongi in the face, because he so desperately needed to. he wanted him to realize what was in front of him, he wanted him to realize how lucky he was.

once again, yoongi was left alone. in his heart, he knew every word of it was true, but he couldn't bring himself to come to terms with it. it was something he needed to do, but he didn't want to. he wanted to live in his bubble, with his heart closed off to anyone but him. he needed to be selfish, because it was all he knew, but as the night grew colder and harsher, he knew it wasn't what he wanted to do.

you found yourself in your bed once more, but you couldn't fall asleep. your mind wouldn't shut off, and it pissed you off. you and yoongi had gone another day without speaking, and the silence killed you. he wasn't there, and all you could think about was where he was. you let out a dry laugh, thinking history would be funny enough to repeat itself—maybe he really was out there, wetting his dick again.

that possibility lost some of its credibility when the doorknob began to budge again. like clockwork, you found yourself watching him come in. this time, he was home early, it wasn't even midnight. for a second, you locked eyes. it was quiet, you didn't dare say a word, but you couldn't not look at him. he looked at you, admiring how pretty you were, even at your worst. even with your hair messy, lips swollen, eyes beaming with exhaustion—there was no way you couldn't look good. something in that moment had clicked, and the silence was broken.

“i fucked her,” definitely wasn't the best choice of words, but he needed something to clear the air with. still, you remained quiet, only raising your eyebrows in response. you knew, he knew you knew. “i fucked her and it was a shitty thing to do. i knew it then, and i know it now.”

you stayed quiet, the empathy currently drained from your heart. how could you feel for him? “i fucked her because i needed a way to distract myself,” he paused. “from you. i'm feeling shit i've never felt, and i'm scared of feeling it. when i'm scared, i run. it's all i've ever been doing.”

he stood there, voice steady despite how honest he was trying to be. for a second, you almost understood him. you knew what it was like, running from the same feeling your entire life. it was exactly what you were taught, but never could you have done to anybody what he had done to you. “i really hope she was worth it,” you whispered, just about loud enough for him to hear. she wasn't, he knew she wasn't. she had cost him everything, and he knew there was no coming back from it.

not much had changed as the weeks flew by. nothing but the weather. the colder the weather had gotten, the more hostile you found yourself acting. not just with yoongi, but in general. even with taehyung, you found yourself snapping just to apologize seconds later. he understood, he was patient with you. once it had started to snow, you spent more time inside than outside. seeing the fluffy, white flakes coat the ground was enough for you to get a frostbite. you spent the inside of the campus has truly become a sanctuary, until you and yoongi had started to cross paths once more.

it was only because he had been staying inside just as much. the minute he had woken up to the sight of white, it was official. he didn't even bother looking at the windows, let alone taking a step outside. he only smoked indoors, kept his friends close indoors.

your anger had finally faltered as the time passed, but you and yoongi never really spoke. you had both hoped that whatever it was you were feeling would finally fade, that it was a temporary occurence. you both prayed that one day you'd wake up, and feel nothing for the other. that day never came.

though you had finally made peace with the situation and gained your composure, the weather had lost its. everything up until then had been child's play, with the outside world freezing, but the inside providing comfort. nobody had really expected the drastic change, so nobody was prepared. when the night in question rolled around, it was brutal.

a snowstorm was in the process of unfolding. those who were able to deal with it, dealed by hiding under the covers. the wind rocked the windows, it was brutal. no matter the force, nobody was able to shut them. all the wind did was fight back. the wind howled as flakes of white scattered the dorms, the cold air practically violent. it was the reason you had found yourself on the couch, away from the windows. you were doing your best to ignore it, to block the familiar sounds from your mind. the noises were messing with your head, and the brutal cold brought memories you had no interest in re-living.

your breathing escalated, and all you could do was fight back the tears, reassuring yourself under your breath. you shut yours eyes tight, hoping everything would go quiet. just for a second. it never did. at one point, the howling had started to die down, but the air only grew colder. a new sound had graced your ears, but it wasn't the wind. it wasn't the wind howling. from the corner of your eye, you could spot the source.

yoongi had problems of his own, having taken the spot right next to the window. the covers on the bed offered no comfort, not while everything was unfolding right next to him. the cold was bitter, so unfamiliarly cruel as he rocked himself under the sheets. it was the most unstable he had ever felt, as he bit back his cries, wary of you just feet away from him. he muffled his sobs, but it wasn't enough to stop the tears from flowing down his cheeks. he hated it, it was killing him.

you listened carefully, unsure of what you were listening to. ever the curious one, you pushed yourself onto your feet, with the blanket engulfing you. he was facing the opposite side, and you were absolutely sure the sounds were coming from him, the closer you grew to him. as you got closer, you could make out the sounds better. you were right, it wasn't the wind howling. you could recognize the crying all too well.

“yoongi,” it was the first time you had spoken to him in a long time. your voice rang like a melody, offering him the slightest comfort amidst everything else. slowly, he found himself turning towards you. as he did, you saw everything much clearer, and your heart skipped a beat. his eyes were swollen, lips puffy, his cheeks slick with tears. “yoongi, are you okay?”

he shook his head, and you couldn't hide the panic in your voice. despite everything, you knew you cared. you cared, he cared. hearing you was almost enough to block everything else out. it was enough for him to ignore how vulnerable he truly was in that moment, and he knew he had reached peak vulnerability. “i fucking hate winter,” he croaked out. all you could do was nod, you nodded and it pained you because you hated it, too. you hated how it took everything from you. “took my dad from me, it was too cold.” you could barely make out what he was saying, but you couldn't believe what you were able to hear. it made your heart sink, and you knew what followed was inevitable.

“it's okay, i promise,” your heart was racing as you sat on the bed, right next to him. cold, he was so cold. despite the blankets, he was freezing. “took my mom from me, yoongi. i get it, i promise i get it.” tears in your eyes threatened to match his own as his expression flashed with shock. it wasn't something you expected to hear from anyone, let alone him. “so fucking cold,” he finally whispered, and you realized just how bad he had it. you realized just how alike you were, so you finally did something so unlike the either of you.

you were careful with your actions, even if they weren't thought through. with a sniffle, you pulled the covers up. not enough to expose him to the cold more than he already had been, but enough to make room. you made enough room and, to his astonishment, you crawled in. you moved into the spot next to him, and neither of you moved. it was unlike any warmth either of you had felt before, none of the covers in the world had anything on the warmth felt in that moment.

you stared at each other with sore, puffy eyes. he watched you with soft eyes, sniffles dying down the minute you were next to him. you were perfect. more perfect than you've ever been. he was hesitant, but he found himself pulling you in. you were just as hesitant, but you found yourself scooting closer to him. nothing mattered anymore. the air surrounding you was still cold, it still hurt, but it was like his body had grown a new mind of its own. his fingers traced the side of your face, pushing strands of your hair away from your eyes. he needed to see you, all of you, and he did. you had never been closer, and you couldn't get enough of it. he was like a furnace to you, even though you were the one warming him. from the inside out.

“i love you,” he finally whispered, and neither of you looked away. he knew he couldn't take back what he said, the same way he knew how much he meant it. the words were foreign, they were words you hadn't heard in a long time. finally, you smiled. “i love you, too.” the shock that spread through his body couldn't be mimicked. for the first time in a long while, he smiled. he smiled back, and it was a genuine smile. one that wasn't provoked by teasing and joking, nothing of the sort. he hadn't been loved in a long time.

the wind stayed consistent, but nothing mattered anymore. it was as if a barrier had formed around the two of you, one that unapologetically emitted the warmest, kindest comfort imaginable. yoongi found himself moving closer to you, if possible, and you knew what was coming. you knew, and you were prepared. you loved him, you hated the cold, and you could never be what you despised the most, so you let him.

with his hand ever so gently in your hair, you allowed yourself to come closer, until the distance finally faltered. his lips pressed against yours, something he had found himself dreaming about for too long. your lips melted, colliding so gently, he swore they were made for each other. he had kissed a countless amount of women, but never like that. every ounce of regret left your body, and all you could do was kiss back. it was what you wanted more than anything. you wanted him.

he stroked your arm gently, his thumb tracing circles on your skin, sending shivers of a different kind down your spine. you looked up at him, feeling your heart race a little faster as you thought about what you wanted to say. he was so warm, so solid and comforting, and you felt a sudden rush of love for him that was almost overwhelming. you took a deep breath and whispered, “i've never done this before.” his eyes searched yours, understanding and patience in their depths. he leaned forward and kissed your forehead, his breath warm against your skin. “that's okay,” he said, his voice a gentle rumble. “we'll take it slow.”

the room was filled with a tension that was both nerve-wracking and exciting as you both realized the gravity of the moment. you felt a blush spread across your cheeks, but yoongi just held you tighter, his eyes filled with nothing but affection and reassurance.

he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he said, “but are you sure?” his question hung in the air, the only sound the soft rustle of the covers and the muffled sounds of the winter night outside. you nodded, feeling your pulse quicken. “i'm sure,” you whispered back, your voice barely audible.

yoongi pulled back, looking into your eyes, searching for any hint of doubt. finding none, he leaned in and kissed you softly, his hand moving from your arm to cup your cheek. the kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as you both became lost in the moment. the bed dipped slightly as he shifted his weight, moving to adjust himself beside you, his hand still cradling your face. his eyes searched yours, asking for permission, and you gave it with a shy nod.

he started to kiss your neck, his lips feather-light as they moved down to your collarbone. you felt his hand slowly make its way down your body, and your breath hitched in anticipation. the cold outside was forgotten as the heat between you grew, a warmth that seemed to drive away every other concern. his touch was gentle, exploratory, as if he was learning every inch of you. you felt your body respond, your heart racing and your skin tingling where he touched. his fingers traced the line of your jaw, then moved to the hem of your shirt, his thumbs hooking under the fabric.

you lifted your arms, allowing him to pull the shirt over your head, the cool air of the room making you shiver again. but as soon as the shirt was off, his warmth was back, his chest pressed against yours, his hands running up and down your back in soothing strokes, only to make another appearance, fondling your tits in a way so gentle, even he couldn't believe it. he listened to your soft moans, and it took everything in him to resist pounding you right then and there. the snow continued to fall outside, casting a serene, silent backdrop to the intimate scene unfolding in the warmth of the bedroom. the only sounds were the soft rustle of the covers and the steady beat of two hearts, in sync with each other.

his eyes never left yours as he reached for the button of your pants, his gaze filled with a mix of love and lust. you felt a thrill of excitement and nerves as he undid the button, then the zipper, his hands moving with purpose and care. he slid your pants down, revealing your bare legs to the cool air. you felt his warm breath against your skin as he kissed his way down your stomach, making you gasp.

the anticipation was almost unbearable, your body trembling with a mix of cold and desire. yoongi took his time, his kisses like a warm embrace against the winter's chill. he reached your navel, and your hips instinctively arched towards him. his eyes never left yours, as if asking for confirmation at every step.

he gently pushed your legs apart, his eyes filled with a tenderness that made you feel cherished. his hand trailed down your inner thigh, and your skin burned with every touch. when his fingers finally reached the place where no one else had been before, you tensed, but his soft, reassuring whispers kept you relaxed. with a feather-light touch, he began to explore, his movements slow and deliberate. each caress against your soaking pussy sent waves of pleasure through you, and your eyes fluttered shut as you moaned softly. the cold air was forgotten, replaced by the warmth of his body and the gentle pressure of his hand.

“fuck, princess, so wet for me,” he murmured, his dick painfully hard, practically begging for you.

as he touched you, he watched your reactions closely, learning what made you gasp, what made you shiver with pleasure. his eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of discomfort or hesitation. but all he saw was a deep, unspoken trust that made his heart swell with love. you felt your body responding to his touch, and you reached for him, your hands shaking slightly as you pulled his shirt over his head. his skin was hot against your palms, and you traced the lines of his muscles, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath your fingertips.

the snowfall outside grew heavier, the world outside muffled and distant. the only thing that mattered was the warmth of his body against yours, the feel of his skin under your hands, and the love that was growing stronger with every shared moment.

as he pulled his boxers down, you realized just how unprepared you really were. he could stretch you out as much as he wanted, it still couldn't prepare you for what caught your eye. he was big, and he knew it. he was big and throbbing against the flesh of his abdomen, and a you could do was stare. “it's not gonna fit,” you whispered. despite his laugh, your words only made him harder. the thought of you, so small and fragile under him, breaking because of his cock—it made him desperate for you. yoongi leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “you'll take it, yeah?” you nodded, your eyes wide and filled with a mix of excitement and nerves. he kissed you again, deep and slow, as if trying to imprint every sensation on your soul. you felt him shift, the bed protesting slightly under his weight as he positioned himself above you. he reached for the condom on the nightstand, his movements sure and practiced. but his eyes never left yours, filled with a tenderness that was almost painful in its intensity.

you felt his hard, pulsing cock against your entrance and it was enough to make you gasp. he let out a sigh, the sight of you so vulnerable for him enough to make him cum on the spot. as he entered you, the world outside disappeared, replaced by the feeling of him filling your pussy up, the sound of your mingled breaths the only music in the room. it was a moment of pain, quickly overshadowed by a deeper, more profound sensation of belonging. you held onto him tightly, your nails digging into his back as he began to move, his rhythm gentle and steady. each stroke was a promise of forever, a declaration of love in the most primal and intimate way possible.

“so fucking tight, holy shit,” he groaned, eyes flashing between the way your pussy sucked him up, so pretty and greedy, and the way your face scrunched up in pleasure, pure pleasure. you and yoongi moved together, each stroke bringing you closer to the precipice of pleasure. your breaths grew ragged, your hearts pounding in unison as you climbed higher and higher. and when you finally fell over the edge, you came all over him. “just like that, all over my dick.”

you were overwhelmed, the foreign feeling gracing you with an irreplaceable euphoria you've so badly been craving. he leaned forward, capturing your lips in yet another messy kiss, his hands erratic. they moved as fast as they could, savoring the way your tits felt in them, the way your fleshy thighs spilled out of them. as he pounded into you, a you could do was moan into his mouth. “so good, fuck, yoongi,” the sound of his name leaving your mouth in such a dirty position was enough to send him over the edge.

he was desperate, his hips slamming into your pelvis as his dick brushed your sweet spot. your walls squeezed him, practically milking him for all he had to offer. his groans grew louder as he neared his high, his thrusts sending your eyes into the back of your head as he savored you. you were all his. “gonna cum, fuck,” he moaned, and he was right. he came with a groan, lost in the way you moaned for him, foreheads pressed against each other. he came into the condom, his dick throbbing into your cunt as he did so. it was good, so good.

when he finally pulled out, you did nothing but stare into each other's eyes. you knew that you had just shared something incredibly special, something that would change everything. but as you looked into his eyes, you also knew that no matter what was to come, you would face it together, wrapped in the warmth of your love, and it was stronger than any storm.

“i love you,” this time, it was your turn to say it. for a second, the fear of him leaving, discarding you like you meant nothing to him, like you were just another girl, became present. you weren't just another girl, you never were. “i love you, too.” it was enough, more than enough. how could you ever be just another girl? he alone wasn't strong enough against the cold, not without you.

✧.*

a/n: i hope this does well because this cliché took so long to write lol!! if it does, i'll do a follow-up, as there's a lot of unfinished business haha. only if it's what the readers want. thank you for reading!!!

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writingmyheartsout · 3 months ago

Text

Nobody's Soldier - a Bucky Barnes story.

So here we are, finally the first part of this story. The prompt was simple paired in a therapy program and the first that came to my mind was Bucky (since the hyperfixation came back) and yes the title is an Hozier song.

Hope you like it <3 (thanks to the awesome beta @green-binder as well )

This fic is also on Ao3 and Wattpad

Nobody's Soldier playlist

CW: talking about trauma, PTSD, nightmares, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning himself), trauma, trauma bonding, unexpected feelings, slight obsession, anxiety, denial, manipulation, reader has female pronous.

(Not much major warnings in this, next one will be a bit heavier)

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Ch. 1 - Paralyzed

"A what now?" Bucky asked his therapist with furrowed brows, visibly in confusion.

"It's a therapy companion program. I think it would be good for you.." Doctor Raynor said bluntly, leaning back in her chair but looking at him with a stern expression. ”…You need to talk to people."

Bucky glares quietly at her then, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't need this.

"Who… the hell anyway...?" he started but suddenly stopped when he heard another voice coming from the doorway.

"Hello Doctor..." you said, standing in the doorway with a bright smile on your face, arriving early as you always did.

You did this before, this program, you were involved from the very beginning and you had already been paired with four people already. Three of them were living their best lives, with little to no problems, but one was still in the program yet away from you, as he had accidentally developed feelings. Safe to say, that time didn't end well.

You hoped this one would be, at least, nice.

As soon as the doctor invited you in, you moved closer, greeting them politely again as soon as you sat down, but he didn't take your hand in return.

You shrugged a little at that, you knew that people could come off as rude with new people around, especially in places like these, and there was nothing wrong with that.

Right after you greeted him, to no answer, Bucky glanced at you the moment you looked away as you listened to whatever the doctor was saying, looking you up and down once, while having mixed feelings about the whole ordeal.

It wasn’t as if he disliked you immediately, he didn't even know you. But the thought of being paired with someone he'd never met made his blood boil with annoyance before even starting.

The sole idea of talking to a stranger, of opening up to them… He was uncomfortable enough with his therapist, how bad would it be with you?

On the other hand, you completely missed the look of annoyance he had on his face, looking at you uncertainly while you listened to the doctor.

You had and still have your fair share of traumas, but as some kind of coping mechanism, you hid it fairly well, something your own doctor was still trying to fix. As a result, you were exceptionally good with others, listening to them and even helping them to start believing in themselves. All the things you didn’t have, not from the people you wanted to.

Then Bucky let out a silent sigh, turning to look out the window completely uninterested in the whole situation as he focused on the cars driving past the building instead.

He didn't have to talk about anything he didn't want to, he thought, scoffing slightly in his mind.

Although, with the therapist watching, he knew he'd have to be civil. He glances back at you before looking back out the window.

"You don't need to be here," he says bluntly then, keeping his eyes focused outside.

"Excuse me?" both you and the doctor turned to him, and you frowned while the therapist explained to him for the nth time why he needed to do this.

You weren't hurt by his words, per se, it was the reaction everyone had, especially with a program like this one, so you were used to it. You shrugged and looked away while he argued with his doctor.

It’s true, you didn’t need to be there, you were well aware of that. Your gaze focused on your lap, and you started fidgeting nervously with your sleeve, pulling at an invisible thread on your sweater.

"I don't need a damn babysitter…" he scoffed, leaning back in his seat before his eyes darted over to you, looking you up and down as his eyes narrowed in silent disapproval.

“James, don’t start… I already explained why…” Doctor Raynor repeated, visibly annoyed as the frown on her face deepened.

At that he sighed in annoyance, the idea of this program pissed him off. Being seen as weak and in need of someone to watch over him was enough to drive him up the wall.

He didn't need anyone to take care of him. He was a former trained assassin for God's sake.

At that, you looked back with the most unreadable expression on your face and just gently smiled. Then with one last look at the doctor, you spoke up again.

"I'm well aware and I don't pretend to know anything you're going through..." you said, your tone calm yet firm, standing up right after.

"Look… Bucky? Bucky, right…?" you quickly asked before continuing…”.. we've all been there more or less so I'm not forcing you to do anything, really.”

But before leaving, you pulled something from your pocket, giving it to him.

"This is my number if you ever need anything or someone to stay silent with…up to you," you added, in a much more gentle tone.

After that you walked away but not before saying goodbye to the doctor with a smile back on your face.

Bucky didn't like the way you smiled at him. It was like you saw something he couldn’t and he didn't like not knowing things.

His brows furrowed as he watched you get up. He sat there in slight shock as you spoke.

Why were you being this damn civil with him? Didn't you want to know more? Demand answers? Knowing who he really was? All that and more pissed him off and yet intrigued him at the same time, a million thoughts starting to run around his head.

His frown deepened as you suddenly handed him a small piece of paper. He stared at it a moment before looking up and seeing you walk away. He had no intention of using that damn thing.

One week later, to the day, your phone rang.

After the little misunderstanding both of you had in the therapist's office, your life kept on going like it always did, waking up, going to work, eating… when you remembered to… having a breakdown or two, and trying to manage your anxiety. Normal stuff, just everyday things.

Not that you expected anyone to actually call you but, as you always did, when your phone rang even in the middle of the night, you answered.

This time when you picked up, it was only one sentence.

"I had a nightmare..."

Bucky's voice was quiet over the phone. He was sitting on the floor, covered only by a thin blanket, breathing heavily as he tried to compose himself.

Every nightmare always felt so real, so damn vivid. He could still taste the blood in his mouth. Still feel the ghosts of hands, tearing him apart.

How long had it been since a nightmare hadn't woken him up screaming? He should be used to this by now.

"What do you need me to do?" was the only thing you said to him after that, voice gentle and quiet, partly from sleep.

And then you waited in silence. For him to just calm down over the phone or start talking, whatever he needed from you or didn't, you would help him, no matter how bad your first impression was.

Bucky stayed silent for a moment longer as he tried to catch his breath, his eyes closed tight as he focused on the sound of your voice.

Calm down. Just. Calm. Down. He kept repeating this in his mind. He didn't want to feel like this. He hated feeling like this. Anxious, terrified. Weak.

"Just..." his voice was quiet, wavering slightly. "Don't hang up.”

"I won't..." you promptly replied, your voice still soft as you sat up on the bed, hearing him trying to control his breath.

It wasn't the first time this happened with a therapy companion, it was honestly quite common, you had been there before.

So you stayed, silence falling over you both as he calmed down, occasionally with your reassurance that everything was alright, spoken gently.

After that night, you didn’t hear from him until a month later, except for a few texts he sent went he felt like he was slipping out again, but no nightmares, or at least that's what he told you.

The more you talked, the more you felt like he was starting to open up.

The next time he did call you again, he was a complete mess.

Bucky was breathing heavily once again, sweating profusely, his eyes wide and unfocused as he stared at nothing. He knew where he was. He knew the past was just in his head. But God did it feel so real.

"I-I can't... I can't breathe." He muttered, tears of frustration welling up in his eyes as his shoulders began to shake.

"Bucky..." you started quietly as you sat on your couch, listening as he almost choked on his own breath.

But he wasn't listening, his breath was heavy, as if he was about to pass out. You knew too well what it was and how disruptive it could be. Still, it was all in his head.

"James..." you tried again, more assertive but still calm "..what can I do for you?"

Sometimes saying out their full name during a panic attack would shock them out of it, sometimes not. But you had to try, hoping this time it would work.

Bucky froze for a moment as if hearing his name was enough of a shock to freeze him in his tracks. He was breathing fast, almost panting, he was struggling to speak, to process his thoughts. It was minutes until his eyes finally refocused, looking around frantically as he realised where he was.

He was in his apartment. In his bed. Safe.

The realization was enough to make his breath hitch, a choked sob escaping his lips. It took him a couple of moments to respond, his voice sounding shaky and pained.

"I-I-" He tried, but he couldn't bring himself to say it.

"It's fine..." you whispered, heart still clenching at hearing his soft sobs and how he was still struggling to speak.

You weren't a therapist, you couldn't be that distant with the people you were paired with, so the pang in your stomach was real.

Was it empathy? Or did you just know what it feels like? Either way, you gave all of yourself to help when needed.

"I can be on the phone all night if that’s what you need..." you added, a tinge of a smile on your lips.

You wanted him to know you were there for him.

Bucky closed his eyes tightly as he tried to stop the tears from falling.

He felt humiliated. Weak. For calling you when he should have been able to handle this on his own. It was just a nightmare.

He was a grown man, he fought in a war, he wasn’t some pathetic child who couldn't handle a nightmare.

But your voice was so damn calm and gentle. Telling him everything would be ok. That you'd stay. It calmed him slightly, but the shame was still there.

"You… don't have to… stay up for me." He muttered quietly, voice choking up still.

"You're not alone in this..." you replied, reassuring him once more.

These same words were the same your therapist told you the first session you had and they stuck in your head since then, helping and easing the process.

"No one should be alone in this, Bucky..." you added, your tone gentle and light as you stood up and headed to the kitchen.

"It hurts, I can tell you this much, it's not going to be easy… but it will get better" you went on, while you prepared yourself for bed.

You didn't know how long you'll be on the phone so you prepared yourself for a long night.

Bucky listened quietly, to the sound of you moving around on the other end, to your words.

He didn't understand how you stayed so calm. How even after his rude comment that first time, you still spoke to him so kindly.

"How… how do you not get angry...?" He asks suddenly, his voice hoarse. "How do you stay so damn calm?”

You laughed quietly at his question, as you pulled a book from your stash on the bedside table.

"Who said I don't?" you replied still amused by his assumption.”…I do get angry, very much so..." you added.

"With time and age, I just learned to let go of many things, it still hurts sometimes, but there's nothing I can do.”

Bucky was a little surprised when you let out a small laugh. It wasn't what he expected from you. He was actually expecting some kind of lecture, something about meditation or some other crap like that. He was so used to the lectures from his therapist and doctors.

But you were honest. You got angry. You let go of things.

Then he was silent for a moment, your blunt honesty taking him off guard.

"Doesn't it get tiring? Being so… calm all the time?” He asked, genuinely curious as he felt himself breathing regularly now, his body slightly relaxing.

At that you sighed. Still, the smile never left your lips.

"Very much so… but..." you replied after a moment, trying to find the best way to explain this.

"It gets more tiring to be mad all the time..." you said honestly as you now lay on the bed, on one side.

"I still cry, I get panic attacks… and I zone out a lot…" you stated, recalling all the times you still found yourself alone with your breath caught in your throat, legs pulled against your chest.

"Like I said, it gets better, not perfect…”

Bucky was a little startled by your honesty. How bluntly you spoke about your own struggles just to help him out. He knew very well how difficult it was. How frustrating it was to struggle with his past. How much it hurt.

But hearing you talk so casually about your panic attacks and crying was… odd, in a way.

He was used to hiding his struggles and pretending everything was fine, he thought it was normal.

Then he let out a huffed sigh.

"How long does it take, usually?” he asked, deep down already knowing the answer.

"For things to get better?" you asked honestly, a little surprised by that kind of question from him. Of course, it was a rhetorical question, getting better didn’t have a set date, everyone and everything was different when it came to mental health.

"A long time." you then replied, not wanting to sugarcoat anything for him right now.

That's what you did usually, tell them how it was and how you got there. People in the same situation as yourself were mostly tired of unnecessary bits of advice that led to nothing.

"A lot of time and therapy sessions..." you added almost laughing like it was something funny. "... your brain won't be the same though, the trauma is stuck in your head”

Bucky huffed quietly, laying back against his pillows while he listened to you.

He expected some type of halfhearted reassurance. Some shallow statement about how he'll heal and move past everything.

But you didn't do that. You kept your statements blunt and straight to the point. You spoke about your own experiences easily.

You weren't like his therapist. And this was far off a therapy session.

"So… my brain will never go back to normal…" He mutters quietly, not like a question but like a realization.

You lightly chuckled on the other end.

You expected this kind of reaction, usually that's what happened. You did it too the first time you were told about this. But you eventually accepted it, on most days.

"Your brain is normal, Bucky..." you spoke again, softly this time." ...you still think, talk, laugh and cry… that's normal."

That's what you think about yourself too, when your intrusive thoughts weren’t winning the battle. You were still functional, but living in a world that hadn't been kind to you at all.

"Just with a little spice…” you added playfully.

Bucky listened quietly, his eyes closed as he tried to keep his breathing even still.

He still didn't understand how you could speak so nonchalantly.

Just a little spice? He repeated your last sentence in his head, trying to convince himself.

He thought about it for a moment longer. His mind was still messed up but he was still capable of all those things. It was a simple concept but it eased his mind a little, at least for now.

"Are you just gonna keep talking until I fall asleep?" He huffed then, trying to keep his voice distant now that he had recovered.

"If you want me to..." you only replied, maybe a little more sweetly than you intended to.

But you felt responsible somehow, few times had you seen someone so broken yet so stubborn with himself and others that you genuinely wanted to help.

"I could read to you, It doesn't bother me at all..." you suggested, fully expecting him to scoff at that as he was still trying to push you away.

Bucky stayed quiet for a moment. He didn't want to admit but the sound of your voice was soothing somehow.

Normally, he would try to keep himself awake. Stare up at the ceiling until he was so tired, he passed out from exhaustion.

But now, laying in his bed listening to the sound of your voice, he found that he was tired. Not in a tired-from-exhaustion kind of way, but tired in an I-could-fall-asleep kind of way.

"Fine.” he only answered.

"Alright..." you only said, almost smiling at his reaction.

You could see all the signs, the reluctance, the way he avoided showing himself truly or how he still bit back. He didn't trust you and it was fine, you were still a stranger.

You ended up reading him a novel, one that told about a knight in shining armour, until he fell asleep.

The next morning you found yourself with your phone next to you, your reading glasses still on and the call ended a long time ago.

Bucky woke up in the morning slightly confused.

Looking around his darkened room, it took him a good minute or two to finally remember last night. He must have passed out during your call as he found his phone still in his hand, a glance at the time telling him it was nearly noon.

Maybe you hung up as soon as you realised he had fallen asleep.

He wondered if the previous night had all been some kind of very weird fever dream. But his phone still showed the call log. It had actually happened.

After waking up rather late you decided to work from home, luckily for you, it was possible with what you did, being between jobs had some benefits after all.

You felt very sleepy still since you spent most of the night reading until you heard the call ending itself, so your day was slow and rather calm.

While, for once, thinking about yourself, your mind kept replaying what happened last night. How you heard Bucky cry, how his words stuttered and, after he calmed down, the questions that followed.

Then the reticence.

Later that day, right in the afternoon, you shoot him a message anyway.

-to Bucky: you ok?

You didn't expect a reply, you were well aware of how he still tried to be distant.

And like he said the first time, you weren't his babysitter and he was a full-grown man, so it was up to him if he still wanted help.

On the other end, Bucky nearly dropped his phone when the screen lit up with your message.

He was still very much surprised that you were checking up on him.

Why?

He stared at the message for a good few minutes, debating on what he should say or not.

No, he wasn't ok. He was still shaken up from the nightmare he had. He was still frustrated with himself for not handling it alone.

But he wouldn't exactly tell you any of that so he tried to come up with a reply, but it took him about an hour.

-From Bucky: I'm fine.

When the actual reply arrived, you couldn't hold back a laugh.

He was still so stubborn even after you heard him almost crying that his coldness now felt...different.

-to Bucky: I don't believe that, but alright :)

You went up with your usual day after that, busy with some more work while planning your next therapy session that was coming soon.

Bucky huffed quietly after receiving your reply, his eye twitching slightly. He was surprised that you didn't believe him that he was fine.

But then again, you had heard what happened last night. You had heard him struggling to breathe. You had heard him nearly cry over the phone.

How stupid he was to think he could convince you he was fine.

He tried to put the phone down, but he found himself picking it up again and staring at the screen.

You just... Didn’t give up, did you? he thought, asking himself something he couldn’t reply to.

How expected, Bucky didn't reply further and that was fine with you. But deep down, to be completely honest, you started to kind of worry about him, to kind of care...

After a week, when you hadn't heard from him and had yet another session that felt hard, everything came crashing down.

At first, you were your usual happy self, telling your doctor about this therapy companion thing and what happened, minus the details.

But once you got home, you felt it, sneaky as it always was, another panic attack that slowly started to build up.

You spent months without one this strong but with the news in your life and the progress you made with therapy, it was strange that it didn't show up sooner.

Now flashbacks of past memories and people playing in front of you, still sitting on the bathroom floor with your legs tight against your chest and your phone next to you… on silent.

When Bucky called this time, you didn’t answer.

Bucky had been ignoring the constant feeling of guilt deep in his stomach. You had helped him, saved him from that nightmare and the panic attack that followed, and his way of repaying you for that kindness was acting cold and distant?

He couldn’t tell if you were worried about him or just nice but you were still trying to help him somehow.

But he was too stubborn to admit he needed someone right now, to admit he needed you.

So it was only right that he couldn't reach you when he finally picked up that damn phone.

Sitting in his living room, now staring down at his phone, Bucky tried to call you again and again, but like the other calls he already made, he was sent to voicemail. Not even an answer in text.

Dread started to fill him, his mind immediately going to the worst-case scenario.

Did something happen? Why aren't you picking up? Did you put your phone on silent? Why?

You pulled through yet again, not without your fair share of tears and so much pain, but you did. Still, your body felt numb and sore, sitting in the same position for hours, your mouth dry and your eyes burning.

You were a complete mess, but your breathing was now finally steady.

Still, you haven't checked your phone and honestly, it was one of your last thoughts as of now.

You didn't know the time either, as your brain was still scattered and clouded even after the shower you took just to feel something.

So when you finally picked it up, your eyes went wide and you almost cried again.

4 missed calls from Bucky

1 text from Bucky

Guilt and fear started silently spreading inside you all over again. You couldn't do this now, it felt like betrayal but you couldn't.

Bucky sat in his living room, his body stiff and filled with fear.

He had called you about 4 times now. Each time, he was met with a voice-mail.

What the hell was going on?

He was tempted to do something, maybe find out where you lived and go check on you. But he forced himself to calm down, trying to convince himself to not overreact.

You probably had your phone on silent. You probably didn't hear it. You probably were fine.

When you were about to lay in bed and have some sleep, you received another call and for a moment you were tempted to answer, but you didn’t. Instead, you placed your phone on the bedside table and got under the covers.

But when you were about to drift off, your eyes about to close you picked up your phone again and decided to, at least, read the message.

-from Bucky: what happened?

If you weren't so tired you would have laughed about it, about the worry that seeped from a single message, but even your face felt heavy.

So you just typed a quick answer.

-to Bucky: wasn't feeling myself, I'm sorry...we can chat tomorrow.

And with that, you fell asleep, exhausted and aching with your phone still in your hand.

Bucky read your message over and over again while he lay in his bed. He was still worried but the knot in his stomach started to lessen slightly. He felt like a fool for being so dramatic.

Of course, you were just having an off day. Off days happened, especially for people like the two of you. He was just overreacting.

He decided to send you one last text, unable to help himself.

-From Bucky: call me if you need me.

With that, he sat his phone on his bedside table and closed his eyes.

The answer to Bucky's text only arrived at the end of the next day since sleeping past your alarm had made you arrive late for a work appointment.

In other words, your day was a bit hectic.

Then you helped your neighbour on your way back home.

And when finally you were sitting on the couch, in your comfortable clothes, the tv didn't turn on. So you had to call the landlord then.

You were tired, frustrated even and not really in your best behaviour. Still, you owed Bucky an answer.

-to Bucky: did you sleep last night? Saw you were a bit worried. Anyway not my best day but I'm better. Ps: do you happen to know how to fix a tv?

Bucky read over your message, his lips twitching into an involuntary small smile.

Not your best day.

He could tell from the way you wrote the message that you were a little bit frustrated with how your day had gone but still tried to stay positive. It was… cute.

He quickly typed out a response, ignoring the strange feeling inside his chest as he sent it.

-From Bucky: I slept alright. And how do you manage to screw up a damn tv?

-to Bucky: how dare you! I was out all day and it was already like this, called the landlord but he said there's nothing he could do :(

You typed out almost too quickly, but then you were distracted, only to finish your text minutes later.

-to Bucky: sorry my neighbour needed something… anyways I’m happy to hear you slept some, at least.

You were so focused on the broken tv, and your neighbour moving out that you didn’t tell him about the episode that happened last night. That made you feel rather guilty, you were paired for that specific reason and while you were all about helping him, you just refused to let others help you when the same thing happened.

Bucky was beginning to pick up on your behaviour, about you only talking about your struggles when you wanted to be helpful but not when you needed it. You had talked him through a panic attack but never said anything about why you were still in therapy.

At that, a feeling of determination welled up inside of him as he read over your message.

He was going to find out what was going on with you, one way or another. Shocking even himself with that very thought. e quickly typed out a reply.

-From Bucky: Your landlord sounds like a douche. Maybe I could take a look at it for you.

His next message made you stop in your tracks as you crossed the room and went to the kitchen.

The other times you were paired up, it was always by calls and texts as the other were too scared to even go out, so this was kind of unexpected. With the way he had acted when you both first met and how he still tried to, this was kind of a shock.

But then, when you didn’t answer right away, another text arrived, pulling a slight smile out of you, now that he was acting worried.

-from Bucky: so?

-to Bucky: won't hurt, can send u my address, warn me when you do though.

Bucky tried to keep his heart from beating so damn fast. It was a dumb offer, a stupid thought he had, but you had accepted nonetheless. So he wasn’t sure why he felt… nervous?

He told himself it was because he was worried about you, worried that you might have been struggling like he was. But a small part of him couldn't help but wonder if maybe it was because he…

No!... not going there.

He stopped himself from thinking more about it, quickly replying to you.

-From Bucky: Yeah, send me the address. I’ll be there in thirty.

I'll be there in thirty. Well that was quick, you told yourself as you read his last message, totally not expecting this sudden change of heart as a strange feeling of happiness started brewing inside you but, at the same time, you were scared.

Not because Bucky was a bad person, you were sure he had too much good in him, but for the fact that someone would actually want to come over.

This was new.

And while you were overthinking this, trying to tidy up your messy apartment as best as you could, minutes passed and suddenly someone had knocked at your door.

Bucky stood in front of your apartment, his hand raised to knock. He was starting to feel a bit dumb.

It was a stupid idea. Why did he offer to come over? Stupid, stupid, stupid!

But his mind was filled with worry, his heart racing as he continued to stand in front of your door like some kind of idiot.

He finally forced himself to knock, even if the knocking came off a bit too loudly because of his nervousness.

As soon as you opened the door your breath hitched a little. He was standing there, wearing just a pair of black jeans, a leather jacket with a dark blue jersey underneath, and…gloves?

When did he get so tall and… no, not the right time, as you took in the unreadable expression he had on his face.

But then you quickly reminded yourself that the only time you both saw each other was in his doctor's office.

"Hi stranger..." you said, after a few seconds of internal battle within your brain.."...were you worried about me perhaps?" you joked, awkwardly and only to hide your embarrassment.

But as he looked down at you, you realized you were still in his way and stepped aside enough to let him pass.

The first impression he had of you was bad, and the second? Well, maybe now he considered you an idiot.

Bucky stood stiffly in front of you, almost towering over you as he looked down to meet your gaze.

Damn, you were tiny. He hadn’t noticed that before, just now realizing just how much smaller you were than him.

As he stepped in, he tried to keep the cold look on his face, but it was hard to keep his eyes from roaming over you, taking in your messy sweatpants and oversized shirt. Cute, he caught himself thinking.

"Maybe a little bit..." he muttered grudgingly, walking inside your apartment.

“Oh…” you said quietly as he walked in, surprised by his answer.

Then you saw him looking around as if he was searching for something, making you even more confused.

Then it hit you… his doctor told you he was a former military.

"It's just… just an old tv..." you tried, not really knowing why you stuttered at first as you followed him into your living room.

Bucky kept his hands shoved into his pockets as he walked around your living room, eyes roaming over every corner in search of any potential threats. An old habit of his from his time on the front lines.

When he spotted the television, his eyes narrowed slightly, only shedding off his jacket and remaining with just a long-sleeved shirt on.

A damn old tv, maybe older than him.

"How old is it?" he asked while he kneeled down in front of it, his fingers already picking at the back of the machine.

It took a little to answer his question, still stunned by the fact that he was really in your apartment.

The same guy that couldn't stand you the first time he saw you.

"Very… I mean..." you replied, then quickly correcting yourself."...I don't know really, bought it used."

You confessed, cheeks slightly flushing as if you were ashamed by that. You didn't have much on your own and therapy was damn expensive, after all.

As he worked, you tried not to bother him much, staying away as much as possible and sitting quietly on the couch.

Bucky hummed quietly while you spoke, his mind racing with questions.

How old could this tv be? And just how much did it cost you?

But he held his tongue, not wanting to risk upsetting you with his questions.

As he continued to inspect the old device, still he noticed how he could practically sense you trying to distance yourself from him and not bothering him much.

So he held back the urge to look at you, trying to focus on the old machine instead.

Why were you being too damn polite? Why were you so damn far away?

As you tried to focus, still not very much into yourself after a whole day of unexpected setbacks, the bell rang making you jump a little, startling Bucky as well.

But before he could say anything, you went to check, only to realize it was just your neighbour again as soon as you opened the door.

And while you talked, you didn’t notice that her voice was so loud that it could be heard even inside your apartment, as you both were at the door and away from the living room, so much that made Bucky curious about what was happening.

Bucky paused in his work on the tv as he heard the bell ring, his head turning to look towards you as you walked out of the room.

He kept working, the sound of your voices filtering faintly into the living room.

He wasn't trying to listen in your conversation but the more you and your neighbour talked, the more Bucky found himself subconsciously trying to make out what was being said.

He started to feel like a creep, listening to your private conversation like this. But he couldn't help it, the curiosity was eating away at him and...

The more he listened, the more he realised that something was off.

He slowly rose up from his kneeled position and turned to face the entrance as the voices got slightly louder.

When you finally closed the door with a loud sigh and turned to come back to the other room, you almost jumped as you found him there, standing near the entrance, with a deep frown on his face.

"Jesus..." you gasped, a hand on your chest.”...scared the hell out of me."

"You good? ...did something happen?" you then added as he kept looking between you and the front door.

Bucky kept his face stoic, his mind racing as his eyes roamed over you.

He was about to ask you about the neighbour, about your conversation. It was none of his business but… he just couldn’t stop himself.

"What the hell was that about?" he asked, gesturing toward the door.

It was your turn to frown, as soon as the words left Bucky's mouth you got confused.

How the hell did he...? you thought, crossing both your arms over your chest.

You were tired, still bothered by the remnants of your previous episode and on the verge of a breakdown. You couldn't handle this now.

"Listen, I'm going to be as polite as I can right now..." you started, your tone calm but with a slight edge.

"That's none of your fucking business."

And as soon as you said that, not giving him time to reply or do anything, you stormed off and locked yourself in the bathroom, sitting on the floor as soon as you were in.

Bucky was stunned for a moment, completely taken aback by your reaction. He had been rude, pushing a personal question out of the blue.

He hadn't really meant it, he was just worried about you. But now he realized he had gone too far, overstepping a boundary.

God damn it, he was a moron.

He felt panic well up inside him as you stormed off into the bathroom and slammed the door behind you, the sound of the lock flicking in place echoing in the apartment.

Bucky stood frozen still, the silence from the other side of the door deafening.

Was he supposed to wait there? Should he knock? Leave? He didn't know what to do.

He ran his hand through his hair, feeling completely lost.

He couldn’t bring himself to leave you alone, not while you were clearly upset, so after a few moments standing there awkwardly, he gently knocked on the door.

You missed the first knock, too lost in your mind yet again, trying to calm your breathing the way your therapist told you many times.

Everything seemed to shatter into tiny pieces, even the smallest things now becoming bigger problems.

You just couldn't, while you kept repeating, more like murmuring to yourself...

I'm sorry...

can't do this anymore...

please shut up

Your brain felt like it was on fire, hurting you more than you could imagine.

Bucky's worry grew as he heard your voice quietly talking to yourself through the door.

He felt like an idiot for overstepping, causing you to feel like this. And now you were locked away from him, alone and struggling.

With a knot in his stomach, he once again knocked on the door. He hated asking but…

"Can I come in?..." he called quietly, placing his forehead against the door.

You were on the verge of crying, but for a moment your brain refocused and you heard knocking as well as Bucky's voice.

He was still here? Why?

Deep down you knew this time you couldn't do it alone, that you had to talk this out but it was like your body was trapped on the spot.

When Bucky started to beg, behind the still-closed door, you felt a heavy sense of guilt washing over you, standing up right after but barely balancing on your feet.

Then you unlocked the door before you hunched over the sink, hands gripping the surface while your breath felt ragged.

Bucky was almost surprised you opened up the door, his heart clenching at the sight of you. He had never expected to see you this vulnerable.

He really was an idiot for causing you this much anguish.

He slowly stepped into the bathroom, gently closing the door behind himself.

"Hey..." he started, not really knowing what to say.

He stepped closer behind you, not daring to touch you, his heart aching again as he saw you hunched over the sink.

When you heard the faint footsteps and Bucky's voice so gentle, you raised your head slightly, the first tears were already running down your face and you only wanted to scream, but you swallowed it.

Instead, it happened in a blur, you turned around and hugged him tight, burying your face into his shirt and leaving him stunned.

You were weak, felt worse than ever and clearly in need of help.

Bucky’s heart stopped as you suddenly turned around and hugged him.

He had barely been able to register what was happening, but now he froze when he felt you against him.

His arms hovered in the air at first, not knowing what to do, but the sound of muffled sobs coming from you snapped him back into reality as if suddenly his brain and body started moving again.

So he quickly wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him as he leaned down and gently rested his chin on the top of your head.

You didn't know how much time had passed, hell you didn’t know what time it was as it felt like everything stopped when panic started gnawing at you again.

Your head was still spinning as your fingers dug tighter into the fabric of Bucky's shirt.

And while your breath was uneven and it seemed like you couldn't hold back the tears, you felt guilt.

Guilt of putting him into this situation. Guilt of embarrassing him so much.

"Not… not your fault.." you tried, as soon as you felt his hands on your back."...I'm sorry, I was already a mess..." your voice was muffled and broken, your brain still struggling to form a coherent thought on its own.

Bucky felt his heart twist in his chest as he listened to your broken voice.

He kept his chin on your head, listening to you speak.

"What are you apologizing for?" he asked gently, rubbing his palm up and down your back in an attempt to soothe you.

"I’m at fault here, it's my fault you’re upset," he said quietly, silently scolding himself for being so damn nosy and rude.

"I was..." you croaked out then.."I had… an episode last night..." forcing your words out to explain yourself.

You were aware he probably sensed something was off when you didn’t return his calls and now you were facing the consequences of your actions.

He was your therapy companion, for God's sake you mentally scolded yourself seconds after, your brain still feeling heavy.

"I thought I was getting better..."

Bucky was slowly piecing everything together, the picture becoming clearer as you continued. He felt another wave of guilt crash over him, a cold feeling forming in his stomach.

That's why you didn’t pick up last night, that’s why you’ve been so distant.

And he had come over, intruding on your life like an idiot, making it all worse. He held you a little tighter, gently pulling you closer against his chest.

"You are getting better..." he mumbled against your hair.

You actually sob at his words and the way he was now holding you. It felt good, safe and everything you hadn't felt in ages. And that scared you shitless.

"Stealing my words here..." you said, even if your voice was broken, trying to joke as your brain started refocusing itself slowly.

You wouldn't admit it to him or anyone except your therapist, but funnily enough the proximity and the contact helped ground you and not let your intrusive thoughts win.

Even if your major trauma stemmed from touch itself.

And he was indeed helping you now.

Bucky let out a small huff; somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle. Maybe stealing your words wasn't that bad, you sounded better after all.

He felt the tension that had been present in your body slowly drain away as he continued to hold you, his hand rubbing small circles on your back.

It shouldn’t feel this good to hold you, and even less feel this protective over you.

He ignored the thought for now, gently pulling you closer to his chest.

"Do you want to talk about it…?" he mumbled quietly.

A soft broken sigh left your lips right after his question, relief quickly washing over your body as Bucky kept on silently comforting you.

You're safe. It's ok, were the thoughts that now replaced the pain in your brain, keeping you sane.

At his question, you just nodded yes, still you didn’t move an inch from where you were, body still aching, too convinced that if you let go you'd fall to the floor.

Bucky felt some of the tension drain from his own shoulders as well as you settled against his chest, the sight of you relaxing against him making his heart feel warmer.

He continued to hold you against him for a few more moments, his hand still rubbing at your back in calming circles.

But then, he did something he shouldn’t have.

He gently placed a light kiss on the top of your head, an intimate gesture of comfort.

You felt good, calmer even but when you felt the press of lips on top of your head and his breath ghosting in your hair you froze.

This wasn't right, this shouldn’t be happening… this...

You thought, as your breath hitched slightly while you pulled away, still very much shocked as you looked up at him.

"What..? Did you..?”

Bucky’s heart jumped into his throat when you suddenly pulled away, immediately missing the warmth of your body against his. And when you looked up at him, a mixture of shock and confusion in your eyes, his heart sank.

It was then that he realized what he had just done.

His heart still hammering against his chest as he opened his mouth to speak, stuttering out the first words he could think of.

"I don’t-... I don’t know what came over me-... I'm sorry-” he tried.

You took another step back, your eyes never leaving Bucky's face, watching him as he just realized what he had done.

You didn't want to be mean, to mock him or anything but this wasn't right.

"... I... listen..." you started, voice wavering a little…" we're just…in a program together… there's… there's nothing-"

Then you stumbled a little, both your hand went to grip the sink behind you to keep you upright. Still, you felt confused, mind clouded as a strange feeling grew inside you.

Bucky felt his heart ache at your words. He knew you were right, of course, you were right.

But in that moment, the realization dawned on him, the realization that he liked you. He wanted you and the thought scared the hell out of him.

He quickly reached out and gently grabbed your elbow to help keep you steady when you stumbled.

He didn’t speak for a moment, a lump in his throat as he cursed himself silently, the fear of losing whatever you both had taking over him.

You flinched out of instinct when you felt his hand touching you again.

This wasn't on purpose, you weren't scared of him but… What if he wanted more? What if he took advantage of your weak state?

That's why you were fine to keep all therapy partners distant, communicating only when needed and not meeting with any of them.

This was wrong, this shouldn’t have happened, you needed to heal not get worse.

"I… I think you should go..." you said after a few minutes, looking away."... I... I'll still help you if you… need me to.”

Bucky felt as if he had been punched in the gut as you flinched away from his touch.

The thought of you fearing him broke his heart even more, confirming every thought his traitorous brain was throwing at him. It was all his fault.

He had pushed, he had been rude and he had to go and act on the feelings he wasn’t supposed to have.

So when you mumbled the next words, he quickly nodded, letting go of your elbow.

"Yeah... yeah alright… whatever you want,” he replied as he took a step back and quickly left the bathroom.

You stood still, looking away until you heard the front door open and close, then you collapsed, knees hitting the floor.

You were trembling, you felt confused as stray tears now streamed down your face again but you also felt at a loss, like someone had stolen your breath.

The next morning you didn’t even remember how you got to bed but you had no intention of leaving it any time soon.

You had nothing much to do and with Bucky probably out of the picture, it was you, alone, all over again.

Still, out of habit in the hours that followed, you checked your phone all the same, finding nothing, as you had expected.

Bucky, on the other hand, was pissed. At himself, that was.

He kept replaying what had happened in his head, the look on your face, the way you had flinched away from him...

All because he had been too nosy, pushing you into an episode, and then on top of that, he had gone and acted on his stupid feelings.

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If you got this far, thank you...more is coming as I already have 40k words about this. <3

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