Bucky knew he shouldn’t have been putting off sleep; he didn’t want the nightmares, but some of that self-inflicted insomnia definitely didn’t help.

He knew it was just around the corner anyway and he’d have to deal with it, probably by himself.

It was the paranoia - he’d been through this enough times to know when it would occur, but it never made it any easier. He’d stress much more than he usually would, hearing voices that he could hardly deduce between real and imaginary. He’d see the occasional glimpse of a flashback, almost like it was right in front of his eyes, before it disappeared again. He’d feel much more uneasy, sometimes lashing out at anyone trying to talk to him, even if he didn’t truly mean it.

Bucky wasn’t exited to face it, but there was one person he was sure would be okay with helping him through it. You were one of the few - if not the only person whom had access to such an incredibly personal aspect of his life. That meant he was straight to you, seeking you out and praying that you’d be able to stay with him while he sat out the flashbacks and noises, perhaps point out what was real.

He wasn’t used to actually asking for assistance with his troubles, he just felt like he could deal with it alone and expect it to pass in time, but this time he really couldn’t. He knew it wasn’t healthy to try and get on with it as all these noises clogged up his head, so you were really his anchor back down to earth.

He was sat on the couch in his apartment, directly beside you as he occasionally glanced around the room and away from the TV screen that played a movie neither of you were really focusing on.

Eventually, he let out a soft sigh and slumped back against the couch cushions, looking over at you with an apologetic frown.

“I’m really sorry about all this… I don’t want to be a burden. I just… I can’t really tell what’s real at the moment.” He spoke, almost murmured, averting his gaze from you as he looked anywhere else.