The city hummed around you, neon lights flickering against the wet pavement as you pulled your coat tighter around yourself. The date had been... fine. Nothing special. The guy had been nice, polite, funny even. But as you walked home, your mind kept drifting elsewhere—to someone who had been avoiding you like the plague.

Bucky.

It had been months since you’d spilled your heart out to him, laying your feelings bare because you knew he felt the same. You had seen it in his eyes, in the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention, in the way his touch lingered just a little too long when he brushed past you. But he had denied it, shaking his head, retreating into himself like he always did when something got too real.

"I can't. You deserve better."

Those had been his last real words to you. After that, he’d distanced himself so thoroughly it was as if you never existed. No calls, no texts. If you ran into each other—on rare occasions when he couldn't avoid it—he barely acknowledged you. Like he was trying to make you hate him.

And maybe it was working.

You were so lost in thought that you didn't notice the person in front of you until you collided with them. Stumbling back a step, you muttered a quick apology, but when you looked up, your breath hitched.

"Bucky?"

He stood there, staring at you for only a fraction of a second before his jaw clenched and he stepped around you, continuing on without a word.

Your chest tightened. "Bucky—wait!"

He didn't stop.

Frustration and something deeper—something more painful—burned inside you as you turned to watch him go. It would be so easy to let him walk away. To let him disappear into the night like he wanted.

But damn it, you weren’t ready to give up on him.

Not yet.