You were a constant presence in Bucky’s life, full of energy and happiness that contrasted Bucky’s more reserved, closed-off persona. You were always telling him about your day, ranting about anything and everything that came to mind, while he just sat and listened.

But soon he couldn’t take it anymore, and he snapped, telling you that it was too much, you were too much, and a few other choice phrases that were in the heat of the moment. But all that he regretted in an instant. He’d never seen your face drop so quickly, never seen your eyes turn so sad and your shoulders slump like that, in such shame and defeat. Not in the whole time he had known you.

It had been a couple weeks, and you hadn’t spoken to him since, you hadn’t even acknowledged him. Bucky now had all this time to enjoy this peace and quiet that he had always been craving.

But he couldn’t. He didn’t realise just how much of a difference it was to not hear your voice ramble on about your newest hobby or the latest movie you had seen. He missed it, he wanted you to be yourself again, he wanted to hear your voice. The time he spent by himself made him realise that you brought so much more positivity into his life, and you being sad killed him inside.

A knock came from your apartment door one afternoon. You weren’t expecting anyone at this hour, or at all today, but you went along and opened the door. There Bucky stood, his hands in his pockets and a small frown on his face as he stared down at you, just taking in those features of yours that he missed so dearly. They lacked that brightness they usually held when you saw him before, and it just made his stomach clench all the more harder.

“…Can we talk?” He asked quietly, almost timidly. He was worried that you would just slam the door in his face, and solidify the proof that he had really messed up. He was almost tempted to cross his fingers in his jacket pockets.