Hell Bound

We didn’t go to sleep. At least not right away. Bucky promised to stay the night, and I knew he wouldn’t be there in the morning again. When we were lying there in the quiet and the dark, my heart wouldn’t slow. I felt his lips on the back of my neck, and his arm moved around me. I had my back to him, but I couldn’t stay that way. I rolled back over to face him and touched my lips to his.

I wasn’t really tired, and he obviously wasn’t either. We both knew it might be a long time before we saw each other again. There was no point in pretending we were going to sleep anyway. His heart was beating as quickly as mine, and he moved me onto my back.

When I finally did fall asleep, it was to the sound of his heart beating. He was lying on the pillow he’d destroyed in his metal hand. I was resting on his chest. My heart was heavy because I knew he’d leave, but I didn’t want to fall asleep, knowing it would end.

I woke up when he moved. He gently pushed me out of the way and slid out from beneath me. He left the bed, and I could still feel his warmth lingering on the sheets.

“You’re leaving again, aren’t you?” I asked him, mumbling into the misshapen pillow.

“I promised to stay the night. It’s almost morning,” he told me.

“I was going to make waffles.”

“We can have waffles next time.”

“Mm, you think I’m going to just let you back into my bed every time you come around?” He sat down beside me, now with his jeans back on. He leaned down and kissed the corner of my mouth, then dragged his lips to my neck, where he gently bit me. I stretched and let out a moan. “Okay. Next time. Waffles.” He laughed lightly and then left the bed again to find his shirt. “Will you promise me?” I asked after a minute.

“Promise what?”

“That there will be a next time?”

“I’ll do whatever I can to have a next time.” I heard the backpack zip up, and I knew we’d finally reached goodbye. Though we promised there wouldn’t be one. So I sat up and forced my eyes open. It was still dark, but I could make out the shape of him pulling the backpack on.

“Here, take this with you,” I said, handing out the wonky-shaped pillow. He took it. Even in the dark, I could tell he was confused.

“Your pillow?”

“Your pillow. The one you mangled.” He still seemed confused. “You know—like a memento. A piece of home. A wonky pillow to remind you of how you mangled it.”

It took a moment to click. He opened his mouth to respond. He probably hadn’t even realized he’d clenched the pillow in his hand at all. But I did. Because I knew WHY he’d gripped it so hard, and it made my heart jump around in my chest. He nodded once he figured it out.

“I’ll keep it close,” he promised.

“Plus, I imagine you’d like to have a place to put your head at night. Even if it is shaped weird.”

“It would be nice.”

“And you can carry a piece of home with you wherever you go.” He held the pillow and stood back silently. “You know—so you know you can come back. And there will be waffles. And probably morning sex too.” He let go of a short laugh.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He leaned forward again and kissed me on the lips. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“Me too. But I’ll be close by. If I find Russell, I’ll send him to you.” Then he moved out of my reach and headed toward the door. I remembered what my therapist said about honesty. How it might make things easier. Even if he didn’t feel the same.

“James?” I said when he reached the door. He turned around.

“Yeah?”

“I um….”

“Don’t say it.”

“How do you know what I was going to say?”

“I have a hunch. Just—save it. For next time.”

“What if there isn’t a next time?”

“I’ll push harder for it. That way I can find out if I was right or not.” He must not have read what I wrote in his notebook after all. He opened the door and slipped out into the hall. It was illuminated by the nightlight at the top of the stairs.

“You were right,” I whispered. He paused before closing the door. He’d obviously heard me.

“I know,” he replied. “And I feel the same.” Then the door closed, and he was gone.