(Pure sadness warning. SH, blood, very detailed writing warning!) This is a Stucky story :') There might be a few miss spellings, forgive me.
He was like a sinking ship.
Day by day he was getting worse. Mentally worse. He looked like the happiest man alive. He really did. He was so happy about everything. His smile was as bright as the sun. His eyes were blue like the ocean itself. He was the most amazing man there was, and he was absolutely beautiful.
But behind all of that, behind closed doors, he was suffering. Fucking dying inside. His guilt weighed him down badly. Every time he looked down at his hands it made him instantly cringe in pure disgust. He could almost see the blood from everyone he murdered on his hands, and no matter how many times he washed his hands or got in the shower, the blood never seemed to go away.
The sight in the mirror was worrying. He looked like a ghost, his eyes not as bright as they usually are when he puts on a fake smile when around everyone and goes about his day.
His smile wasn't as bright, his eyes were dull, and his skin was pale and his arms and thighs were completely scattered in different size cuts and scars. He wasn't ashamed of them. Hell, he actually found peace in hurting himself when wanted to. It was calming to his mind. It was like a flood of calm and numbness would wash over him, making him feel at peace.
He didn't care if it was bad. He didn't care if he cut deep enough where he was basically bleeding out a bit too much. It was a dangerous habit of course. But he couldn't be happy. He wishes he could. But he can't. Ever since he became that deadly killer, he never forgave himself. Every murder. Every child and parent. Every baby and innocent person, killed by his own two hands, and he practically felt like he could pass out by the thought.
He felt so guilty, so ashamed and hurt, so beaten and exhausted with himself that he couldn't hardly deal with himself.
That's why he's standing in the shower, the warm water cascading down his pale skinned body and down the drain, sending goosebumps down his body. He stares at the shiny blade in his hand, glimmering in the dimly lit light of the bathroom. His breathing was calm, not one shake in it.
His eyes lingered on the blade, looking at it as if it was a piece of art. He stared at the sharp point of the blade, seeing the dried blood there from the previous time he had used it. He swallows thickly, his throat getting coated by his saliva and he takes in a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment and then breathing out slowly. He opens his eyes and then brings the blade to his thigh.
His thighs were horror. It was like a horror movie. His thighs were covered in cuts and scars that there was hardly any skin left to cut. He thought about cutting his chest and stomach before, but he thought deep down that he'll only do that when he has no skin left to cut.
He takes in another breath, this one filled with emotion.
Before you know it, he takes in a sharp breath and presses the blade down and quickly swipes, instantly feeling the sting. He gritted his teeth, almost dropping the blade. This was more painful than it usually was, and that right there sent his gut twisting, his mind instantly racing for the worst. He knew that this was bad, and he was scared to look.
He stared at the tile wall of the shower, his eyes wide as if he was one of the soldiers in the war with the thousand-yard stare. He was breathing heavily, as if he was almost hyperventilating, and the feeling of the warmth of his blood going down his thigh was scary. He was panicking in his head, but on the outside, he was just staring at the tile wall.
He scared what he would see if he looked down, but in the corner of his eye, he could see the blood flowing in the water. A tone of it. 'Fuck!' Bucky quickly thought. His eyes shot to his leg and he gasped instantly, slapping a hand over his mouth to silence his scream of pure panic. The cut was huge. And he was just realizing how bad it was hurting.
He was glad that the bathroom door was locked and closed, and that it was in the middle of the night.
He got out of the shower, his mind paying no attention to the water that continued to go down the drain, nor the blood that was still on the shower floor. He cut so damn deep. He sobbed against his hand from the unbearable pain. Blood was flowing quickly out of the wound and onto the floor, already creating a small puddle in just a few seconds. He grabbed the red towel that was neatly folded and pressed it to his wound, and he sobbed louder against his hand from the pain.
What has he done? This was life threatening. He didn't want to die, or even kill himself. He was just doing this for pay back for what he did to everyone that he killed and tortured to death. He wanted to feel almost the similar pain, because he knew deep down inside that he deeply deserved it.
He started to breathe in and out fast and shaky. He couldn't die. He couldn't leave. This was not the plan. This wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to still live even though he was suffering inside. He still had his good days, he still had his moments of peace, even if that was without his blade sometimes. He wanted to live. He still had all of his friends to hang out with. He still had a life ahead of him to live. But here he is, bleeding out, the towel quickly soaking the blind up.
Bucky sobbed and quickly grabbed bandages from the shelf behind the bathroom door, grabbing the box and the gauze pads. Tones of them. The blade sat in the shower, laying on the floor. The shower still ran while he pulled the towel away with a cry of pain, stifling it as he bites his lip. He grabs ten gauze pads, putting them together and pressing them to the wound. He wanted to cry loudly, scream in sadness and pain.
He wanted to just feel better, and now he just made everything worse for himself.
He grabbed the bandage roll, quickly wrapping the bandage around his thigh. After he shakily gets done, his breathing heavy as he feels his heart pounding faster than ever, his hands shaking so bad that it almost seemed like he was doing it on purpose. The one thought came into his head, and he knew that it was the right choice, that he needed to do it.
Could he really walk to Steve's room and tell Steve what he did.
Bucky knew it was the right choice, that he needed to do it. What he did to himself, it was deadly, and he could already feel his dizziness coming on. He takes in a wavering breath and puts his shirt on quickly, not caring to dry off. He puts on his boxers sobbing in pain and even as he puts his sweatpants on. He limps and unlocks the door, almost not being able to due to how much he was shaking.
He fumbles with the lock and gets it undone. He twists the knob, opening the door. He doesn't care about turning off the shower, getting the blade and hiding it back in the hiding spot he puts it in his dresser drawer. He doesn't care. His life could end in minutes or less than an hour, and he wasn't going to let that happen. He didn't want it to.
He limps and walks to Steve room down the hallway in the Stark tower. He makes his way to Steve's room, Steve's room right next to Peter's, and fuck, he couldn't let the kid see this. Peter would be traumatized and in shock. So Bucky stayed silent. He walked to Steve's room without hardly any creak to the floor. He stands in front of Steve's room door, almost like he was debating whether this was a good idea or not.
'Will he hate me?' Will he stop talking to me?' Will he feel disgusted by the scars and cuts?' Will he never forgive me?' Will he think that this is his fault?' Should I just head back to my room' Should I just bleed out?' I deserve this don't I?' Is this what I deserve?' Should I just wait until I pass out and die?'
So many thoughts went through his head, and he didn't even realize that he was standing in front of his best friends door for five minutes until he gets knocked out of his trance when he sees Steve open his door. He should have known. Steve always gets up late at night because he can't get sleep, so he usually goes and watches TV for a bit until he feels tired again.
'So many thoughts went through his head, and he didn't even realize that he was standing in front of his best friends door for five minutes until he gets knocked out of his trance when he sees Steve open his door. He should have known. Steve always gets up late at night because he can't get sleep, so he usually goes and watches TV for a bit until he feels tired again.
Bucky was silent, staring at Steve wide eyed and shaking, his breathing fast as if he was just getting chased by someone. Steve stared at him for a moment longer, and he knew something was different. He could see the fast rise and fall of his best friend's chest, the way his hands were shaking frantically, the way silent tears slipped down his face. But when he looked down at the blood patch forming on Bucky's pants, Steve felt his throat want to close up.
He quickly grabbed Bucky's arm and pulled him into his room.
He wasn't expecting to wake up to this. He just wasn't tired, due to some muffled noise he heard, but he didn't think anything of it until now. He knows now that that was Bucky's muffled scream. Steve felt his heart pounding so hard that he almost thought it was going to blow up in his chest.
He sets Bucky down on his bed. Bucky sobs, his lip quivering as he squeezes his eyes shut, his body violently shaking with each sob that racked his body. Steve feels his eyes tearing up, his heart shattering in his chest at the sight of his best friend breaking down for the first time he's seen him break down in years. He grabs his chair from his desk and quickly pushes it over to Bucky. He sits down in it, looking straight at Buck.
Bucky has his head lowered, sobs and cries falling from his lips, hot tears running down his cheeks and dripping onto his pants, making little wet spots in there wake.
"Bucky" Steve says quickly but shakily with pure care and love. He cups Bucky's face and says gently. "Take your pants off, please Bucky" He says, almost begging him to.
Bucky sobs, not opening his eyes for a moment. He sniffles and cries as he brings his hands to his waist band of his pants and slightly tugs them down. Steve helps, doing his best not to hurt him. As Bucky's pants go down to his knees, Steve gasps at how much blood there was. "Bucky!?" Steve says in panic. Bucky sobs as he looks at Steve and then closes his eyes. Blood was completely soaked through the bandages and the scars and cuts from yesterday were littered all over, and Steve felt sick, wanting to hunch over and puke.
He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He didn't know if he was having a nightmare or if this was hell. Steve stood up from his chair and grabbed the aid kit in his closet that he kept. He walks back over to Buck quickly and sits back down. He opens the first aid kit with shaking hands, his heart pounding harder.
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry" Bucky sobs more.
Steve shakes his head, not knowing how to form words.
The most important person in his life, the one that was always happy and joyful, full of life and had the best humor. The one that was always grumpy in the morning. The one that would roughhouse and would have a wrestle match with you and tickle you until you were dying from laughter. And here Bucky was, the side Steve thought was long gone, breaking down, crying and sobbing, his body shaking and paling.
Steve looks at Bucky's thigh and starts to unwrap the bandages. After he gets down to that, blood threatens to drip down the side of Buck's thigh from the gauze pads. Steve knew just by the way Bucky had patched himself up that he did it in a hurry. Steve grabbed new gauze pads and then pulled the bloody ones away from the wound. Steve only got a quick glance before putting the fresh new pads on Buck's thigh, and his heart sank.
The cut was huge, and he could see the muscle through the cut, that's how deep he went. It was shocking, and Steve stared at Buck's thigh where the pads were placed. He felt fresh tears fall down his face, and it was like Buck's sobs were not even audible anymore for a few seconds due to Steve being in such shock. Steve then looked up at Bucky and sobbed with him. Fuck, he couldn't lose him, he couldn't lose his best friend, his everything. His love.
Steve puts his shaky hand behind Bucky's head, putting his hand on his neck and pulling bucky's head towards his until their heads are touching. They both sobbed. Bucky did feel indeed dizzy, but he knew that he had super soldier serum running through his veins, so he wasn't going to pass out right away. Steve sobbed, still holding the gauze pads to Bucky's wound, the blood was quickly seeping through.
Steve knew he had to act fast, that he needed to patch his friend's leg up and stitch it.
"I-i have to stitch it... Buck- Buck, it's bad... You need it stitched alright" Steve says shakily.
Bucky quickly nods, agreeing whole heartedly.
Steve nods and gets to work. He grabs all the sewing stuff he needed. He was quick like lightning, and he would never be this quick to patch someone up except Bucky. Every time Bucky got hurt, it was like a pang of hurt to his own heart. He hated seeing his friend in pain, and he would do anything in his will power to make him better.
Steve's love for Bucky was beyond any other friendship. They both save each other on missions, even if that means there's a risk they could die for one another. They would laugh, talk, hangout, drink, watch TV, have coffee, look at the stars and talk about what's beyond the solar system and all, hug, sleep, eat, draw, paint, do absolutely everything you can imagine with each other.
There was nothing more Steve could ask for, nor Bucky. They both loved each other so much. Bucky was in love with Steve so much that he was over heels for him. They loved one another, and there was nothing else they could ask for.
After an hour, Bucky was feeling a bit weak, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. His eyes were pink and puffy from the crying, which made him more tired. Steve gets done sewing the cut, and he was pretty proud at how well he sewed. He didn't care about putting the stuff away, he just put the stuff on the floor. He looked at Bucky, and Buck looked at him. Steve could see that buck's hair was wet and his shirt slightly damp, and he knew that he was in the shower when this happened.
Steve listened, and he could hear the shower running. He sighs shakily and gets up. He quickly goes to the bathroom and is met with a horror scene. There's blood puddles on the tile floor and blood spots on the shower wall. He could see the box cutter blade on the shower floor and he put the back of his hand to his mouth, feeling sick again. He wanted to pass out, his stomach turning, but he kept it down. He shut the water off and bent down, quickly cleaning the blood up with toilet paper and flushing it down the toilet.
After around ten minutes, and rushed back to his room, now seeing Bucky's pants rolled back up to his waist and Buck sitting there looking like a broken record.
Steve walked over, pushing the chair out of the way. He sat down in front of Bucky and pulled him into a tight hug, feeling his best friend's body shake against his. Buck sobbed against Steve's shoulder, clutching onto Steve for dear life as he repeated, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," over and over.
"Bucky, don't... Please, just-... God, please tell me what- why you did this... Tell me why, please? Bucky... Please" Steve said as he sobbed as well, holding Buck tightly. Bucky sobbed louder and said.
"I just- I-i hate- I hate myself-... I-i feel like I dese- deserve this... Bu-but I didn't know th-that I was going to- to even go that deep... G- Fuck- God I'm sorry" Bucky said through cries.
Steve shushed him, rocking each other back and forth slowly as they let their emotions out. "Don't say that... Bucky... You don't... You don't deserve any of this... This- this is not okay... Please Bucky- Buck... This ain't okay, and especially not safe... You could have died... I could have lost you" Steve says and sniffles, clutching onto Bucky like he was about to turn into dust at any moment.
Bucky let out a shaky breath. "I didn't- I didn't think this would happen... Ple-please... Steve, don't leave me" Bucky begged, and everything in Steve shattered to the last bit. He was so heartbroken for his friend that he was sobbing in pain and hurt.
"I'd never leave you... Y-your- everything to me... My home, you hear?" Steve says as he pulls back and cups Bucky's cheeks so they were looking into each other's eyes.
Bucky felt butterflies in his stomach at the words 'My home' and he sobbed. Out of nowhere, Bucky leaned in and kissed Steve deeply, his lips molding against Steve like a puzzle piece that was meant to be. Steve instantly kissed back, kissing him with love and passion. They kissed deeply for what felt like forever, their hands tangling in each other's hair. Steve ran his hand down the side of bucky's neck, sending chills down Buck's his spine.
They pulled away for air, and looked into each other's eyes with love and anticipation. The desire and lust was there, but they could save that for another night. Steve stared into the other's eyes and he said, "You need rest Buck... We can talk and everything tomorrow... You need the rest." Steve said softly and kissed Buck's forehead.
Bucky sighed deeply, closing his eyes briefly, but nodded his head, realizing how tired he really was. Steve nods and they both lay underneath the covers after a few minutes. As they both lay down, Steve pulls Bucky as close as possible, feeling his breath against his chest. Bucky sighs contently. He closes his eyes, inhaling the scent of Steve.
After a minute, Bucky softly whispers, "I love you..." And falls asleep almost instantly.
Tears slip down Steve's cheeks and he holds Bucky close. After a minute, Bucky softly whispers, "I love you..." And falls asleep almost instantly.r if that was even possible and mumbles back, "I love you more" After an hour, he soon falls asleep as well, and the two lay together, their arms wrapped around each other as they sleep peacefully.
Bro... This story I wrote brought tears to my eyes 😭
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