‹ Prequel: Monster
Sequel: From Darkness ›
Hell Bound
Twenty
Graham made dinner just like he said he would. Only we didn't have his "specialty" of chicken nuggets. So he went with something he found in the cupboard. At first, he told me it was his mom's super-secret alfredo recipe. But then he admitted it came from a jar. Mostly because I'd bought the jar myself.
This time, I didn't try to make anyone socialize or even get along. Instead, we all ate in the living room, and Bucky and Graham seemed more comfortable with the arrangement. When we finished, I strictly forbade Bucky from leaving the couch unless he had to use the bathroom. So Graham helped me clean up. Then he got comfortable in the chair while Bucky and I watched a movie on the couch.
Bucky and I had only ever watched TV one time. We watched old reruns through most of the day. I made popcorn, we had candy, and then I kissed him. He seemed different now. Before, he appeared more lost. He couldn't sit still for very long without getting anxious. He'd sat ridged and stiff. The Bucky sitting on my couch now at least appeared more familiar with the concept, if not downright comfortable. But I couldn't tell if he was actually enjoying himself or if he'd just given up because he couldn't do anything even if he wanted to.
We kept our distance in the beginning. He was clear about how he felt, but he stayed away. He knew it wasn't an option, and he didn't try to pursue it. I'd rejected the idea entirely until I couldn't deny it anymore. There's only so long you can let butterflies live in your chest until you're forced to acknowledge them. So we did what Graham described. We decided not to hide it anymore and just enjoy what we had while it was there. But it was gone as quickly as we got it. We had each other for one whole night before they came and took him away.
Something changed in the months we were apart. They'd tried to take his memories again, and I wasn't sure what he'd regained this time. I just knew that he appeared more comfortable with me and in my house. If Graham was correct, then maybe he still felt something for me too. Even if he couldn't remember. He must have known that more had happened between us.
I could remember everything. And I thought about him a lot over the months. I was worried about him, hurt about how it ended, and concerned for his safety. Somewhere along the line, the affection had grown deeper. So it didn't feel like I was sitting beside someone I barely knew and only slept with once. Well, technically twice. The butterflies were still there. Sometimes I was only seconds away from sighing like a lovesick fool. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to rest my head against him and hold him while I had the chance.
I just didn't know how he'd react to that. He was more to me, but that didn't mean the feeling was mutual. We would go our separate ways again. It was inevitable. And maybe it would hurt less if we kept our distance.
I hadn't paid much attention to the movie. I was too aware of Bucky's every movement beside me. But I'd grown tired and slouched down in my seat with my feet up on the coffee table. I was startled when Bucky lifted his arm and stretched it over the back of the couch behind me. His fingers tapped on my shoulder, and he nodded his head, motioning for me to come closer.
Even though I thought we should probably keep our distance, I caved immediately. He didn't have to ask twice. I leaned against his chest and shut my eyes. He was so warm and so close. When his arm came around me, I decided I never wanted to move.
"Go to bed," he whispered. His hair tickled my face. I must have looked like a zombie. I didn't get much sleep even though I'd been right where I wanted to be. Nightmares and couches were a bad mix. I shook my head anyway. Lying on his chest was much more comfortable than a bed all alone.
"I'm all right," I replied, keeping my eyes closed.
"Go to sleep, Johanna." He said my name with its proper pronunciation. The way my parents and grandparents said it. Yo-honna. Not Jo-anna like everyone else said it. Even Steve, who'd actually taken the time to ask me, still called me Jo-anna. It was weirdly personal to hear it from someone who wasn't part of that close, small family group.
"No," I argued.
"I'll still be here in the morning." I believed him, but I didn't want to move.
"If you guys are going to make out, could you at least wait for me to leave the room?" Graham remarked from Bucky's other side. My eyes popped open, and I finally pulled away from Bucky. But only so I could reach for the nearest pillow to throw at him. "Wha!" he said when it hit the side of his head and bounced off. At least I still had good aim.
"We're not going to make out, you dickhead," I snapped. "I guess I'm going to bed."
I stood up, and Bucky's hand slid off of my shoulder. He dragged his fingers down my back before I was out of reach. That just made it even harder to pull away. And I was pretty sure he'd done it deliberately.
I made it to the stairs before turning around to face him. There was a question bouncing around my head, but I didn't know how to ask it. Graham was trying to find the page he'd lost when he dropped his book, but Bucky had his eyes on me. And it looked like he knew exactly what question I wanted to ask. But even if I got the words out, he wouldn't be able to make it up the stairs without Graham's help. And I, frankly, didn't want to listen to whatever comments he gave us about it either. So I nodded a quick goodnight and headed up to my room, reluctantly alone.
This time, I didn't try to make anyone socialize or even get along. Instead, we all ate in the living room, and Bucky and Graham seemed more comfortable with the arrangement. When we finished, I strictly forbade Bucky from leaving the couch unless he had to use the bathroom. So Graham helped me clean up. Then he got comfortable in the chair while Bucky and I watched a movie on the couch.
Bucky and I had only ever watched TV one time. We watched old reruns through most of the day. I made popcorn, we had candy, and then I kissed him. He seemed different now. Before, he appeared more lost. He couldn't sit still for very long without getting anxious. He'd sat ridged and stiff. The Bucky sitting on my couch now at least appeared more familiar with the concept, if not downright comfortable. But I couldn't tell if he was actually enjoying himself or if he'd just given up because he couldn't do anything even if he wanted to.
We kept our distance in the beginning. He was clear about how he felt, but he stayed away. He knew it wasn't an option, and he didn't try to pursue it. I'd rejected the idea entirely until I couldn't deny it anymore. There's only so long you can let butterflies live in your chest until you're forced to acknowledge them. So we did what Graham described. We decided not to hide it anymore and just enjoy what we had while it was there. But it was gone as quickly as we got it. We had each other for one whole night before they came and took him away.
Something changed in the months we were apart. They'd tried to take his memories again, and I wasn't sure what he'd regained this time. I just knew that he appeared more comfortable with me and in my house. If Graham was correct, then maybe he still felt something for me too. Even if he couldn't remember. He must have known that more had happened between us.
I could remember everything. And I thought about him a lot over the months. I was worried about him, hurt about how it ended, and concerned for his safety. Somewhere along the line, the affection had grown deeper. So it didn't feel like I was sitting beside someone I barely knew and only slept with once. Well, technically twice. The butterflies were still there. Sometimes I was only seconds away from sighing like a lovesick fool. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to rest my head against him and hold him while I had the chance.
I just didn't know how he'd react to that. He was more to me, but that didn't mean the feeling was mutual. We would go our separate ways again. It was inevitable. And maybe it would hurt less if we kept our distance.
I hadn't paid much attention to the movie. I was too aware of Bucky's every movement beside me. But I'd grown tired and slouched down in my seat with my feet up on the coffee table. I was startled when Bucky lifted his arm and stretched it over the back of the couch behind me. His fingers tapped on my shoulder, and he nodded his head, motioning for me to come closer.
Even though I thought we should probably keep our distance, I caved immediately. He didn't have to ask twice. I leaned against his chest and shut my eyes. He was so warm and so close. When his arm came around me, I decided I never wanted to move.
"Go to bed," he whispered. His hair tickled my face. I must have looked like a zombie. I didn't get much sleep even though I'd been right where I wanted to be. Nightmares and couches were a bad mix. I shook my head anyway. Lying on his chest was much more comfortable than a bed all alone.
"I'm all right," I replied, keeping my eyes closed.
"Go to sleep, Johanna." He said my name with its proper pronunciation. The way my parents and grandparents said it. Yo-honna. Not Jo-anna like everyone else said it. Even Steve, who'd actually taken the time to ask me, still called me Jo-anna. It was weirdly personal to hear it from someone who wasn't part of that close, small family group.
"No," I argued.
"I'll still be here in the morning." I believed him, but I didn't want to move.
"If you guys are going to make out, could you at least wait for me to leave the room?" Graham remarked from Bucky's other side. My eyes popped open, and I finally pulled away from Bucky. But only so I could reach for the nearest pillow to throw at him. "Wha!" he said when it hit the side of his head and bounced off. At least I still had good aim.
"We're not going to make out, you dickhead," I snapped. "I guess I'm going to bed."
I stood up, and Bucky's hand slid off of my shoulder. He dragged his fingers down my back before I was out of reach. That just made it even harder to pull away. And I was pretty sure he'd done it deliberately.
I made it to the stairs before turning around to face him. There was a question bouncing around my head, but I didn't know how to ask it. Graham was trying to find the page he'd lost when he dropped his book, but Bucky had his eyes on me. And it looked like he knew exactly what question I wanted to ask. But even if I got the words out, he wouldn't be able to make it up the stairs without Graham's help. And I, frankly, didn't want to listen to whatever comments he gave us about it either. So I nodded a quick goodnight and headed up to my room, reluctantly alone.