This mission went terribly wrong. So wrong that you and Bucky ended up hiding in the basement of an abandoned club in the middle of Bucharest. Bucky kept cursing in Russian under his breath as he ripped a piece of his shirt off to tie it around your thigh that kept bleeding, no matter how much pressure he applied. So, this is how you die. Trapped in a dirty basement, shot in the leg, terrible pain that numbed your senses together with your ex-boyfriend. There was no chance to get help, not when the whole city was looking for you.

“I’m dying.” You croaked, your head falling back against the cold stone wall behind you. “Shut up.” Bucky grumbled as he grabbed a pipe next to him to apply a tourniquet to stop the bleeding. It hurt like hell, but somehow it felt like it didn’t even matter anymore. As you looked down, you saw how your pants, the ground and his hands were soaked with your blood, and your stomach threatened to get rid of today’s breakfast. You quickly closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm down, to push the panic away.

But the tears were already rolling down your cheeks. You didn’t know if it was the pain or the blood loss or both that made you so incredibly hopeless in this moment, but when you looked at Bucky again, your lower lip started to tremble. The thing you regretted the most was to let him go. And maybe you didn’t get another chance to tell him.

“You’re still my person, even if I’m not yours.” Your voice was surprisingly stable, given the way the rest of your body trembled. Bucky stopped patching you up for a moment, his eyes clued to your wound, before he finally lifted up his head. He grabbed your chin, not exactly gentle, your blood smearing your cheek. “If you won’t be quiet now I’ll kill you myself.” He said heavily breathing. His eyes pierced into yours, your faces way too close to each other to allow you to think properly.