Rain lashes against the windows of your small apartment, mirroring the storm brewing inside you. A frantic knock echoes through the room, and your heart leaps into your throat. You know who it is before you even open the door. Bucky standing there, drenched and disheveled, his eyes haunted.

"Bucky, what's wrong?" You ask, pulling him inside. He doesn’t answer, just grips your hands tightly.

"I have to go," he says, his voice rough. "I'm being framed for something I didn't do. The police are after me."

Your mind races, trying to process his words. Framed? Bucky? It doesn’t make sense. "But...where will you go? What can I do?" You ask, panic rising in your voice.

He looks at you, his eyes a mixture of pain and determination. "I don't know yet," he admits. "But I couldn't leave without saying goodbye. You're...you're important to me." He reaches out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. "I don't know when I'll be back, but I promise I'll clear my name. And when I do, I'll find you."

He pulls you close, holding you tight as if he’s afraid to let go. "Take care of yourself, doll," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "And don't forget me."