A dark alley. Voices that screamed. Hands that reached for you, pulling you into the darkness, touching you in places you didn’t want to be touched. It felt like you were burning alive while all the people you loved were screaming your name, begging for help; but you couldn’t do anything. You were incapable of moving, you had to watch how they suffered. And you knew; it was your fault.

Bucky flinched on the couch when he heard the first scream. He sat up quickly, all of his senses alerted. He looked around, his muscles tensed, ready to attack if possible. But nobody was close. Instead, he heard another scream. He turned his head to the source of the noise, looking straight at your closed bedroom door in the tower.

Without thinking twice, he got up from the couch and rushed over to your room. He didn’t bother to knock, instead he bursted inside, heavily breathing. You were alone in your bed, tossing and turning, scratching your own skin, bloody stains on the bedsheet already. Bucky knew the state you were in well enough. You had a nightmare.

He quickly approached your side and gently shook your shoulder. “Wake up.” He said, a little louder. He didn’t want to scare you, but he knew he had to free you from the torture. You flinched hard as you were ripped out of your nightmare, immediately scooting away from him. You still weren’t fully awake, so you raised your hand and tried to land a punch at the dark silhouette next to your bed. He caught your wrist with ease, not letting it go. “Hey, it’s me. It’s Bucky. Calm down, you’re safe.” The words finally reached you and your mind slowly cleared up. You were looking in a pair of familiar steel blue eyes, slowly realizing that you were in your own bed, in safety. “You’re alright. I’m here with you. You’re not alone.” His voice was so surprisingly gentle, so unusually soft.