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Click.
Click.
Click.
The shattering sound was deafening.
A wave of nausea hit you when you looked down at the brick sidewalk and saw your brand new camera in three separate pieces. Your eyes stung with tears as you kneeled down and slowly picked them up. Anger flowed through you, but you pushed it away. If you hadn’t been standing in the middle of the sidewalk as you tried to get your picture of the Brooklyn Bridge, this wouldn’t have happened.
“I am so sorry,” The stranger who ran into you said, his voice panicked and apologetic. You didn’t reply as you stared at the pieces and wondered if there was any hope to repair it. The large crack along the sides of the where the lens should’ve been along with the dial from the top having not only detached from the camera but also seemed to have disappeared told you that no, there was no hope in repairing it. The stranger kneeled down next to you, picking up the shattered lens and examining it. “I can pay for it to be fixed.”
“I don’t think it can be,” You told him in a defeated voice. The stranger sighed deeply.
“I can buy you a new one,” He told you. When you looked up, you find genuinity in his striking blue eyes. The look on your face read that you found him to be crazy.
“This camera was $40,” You informed him. “It took me two months to save up for it.” He huffed.
“I didn’t say I’d buy you a new one right now,” He said sheepishly, reaching back to scratch the back of his neck. “But I’ll replace it, you can count on that.” Through your heartbreak, somehow you mustered a smile. You could tell from the look on his face that he was truthfully sorry. And it didn’t hurt that he was incredibly handsome, in a suit with his hair slicked back. Almost half a minute had passed before you realized that you had zoned out in the blue of his eyes. Embarrassed, you looked down at the ground, but hearing him laugh nervously made you look back up.
“What were you trying to take a picture of?” Handsome asked, looking off into the distance you had been trying to photograph before looking back at you.
“The bridge,” You admitted. A part of you felt stupid for saying it out loud, but he didn’t appear to judge you, so you explained further. “I walk passed it everyday when I’m on my way to work. And I’ve just always found it so… beautiful.” You turned towards the scenery that you had seen what felt like a million times before. “The water always sparkles, no matter the weather. I just fell in love with it. So I decided that when I finally got my camera, the first picture I would take would be of the Brooklyn Bridge.” When you looked back at him, his gaze was still fixed on you. It was odd how comfortable you felt talking with him, a complete stranger. Not many people knew about your fascination with the bridge, because you knew most people would find it silly. But he appeared to understand, as he nodded with the same look of awe he’d had before.
“What’s your name?” He asked in a gentle voice. Heat filled your cheeks at the way he smiled at you. You offered him a shaky hand as you told him your name, saying it in an uncharacteristically quiet tone. He bit his lip before taking your hand, repeating your name back to you. It slipped off his tongue so naturally, as if he was always meant to say it.
“James Buchanan Barnes,” He told you. “But everyone calls me Bucky.” You laughed.
“Well, thank god,” You told him. “If I’m going to be seeing you again, I’d hate to call you that mouthful. Named after a president? That’s borderline abuse.”
Click.
Click.
Click.
Barefeet padded against the cold ground as you walked home from work as your shoes dangled from your fingertips. It had been a long day, and all you had daydreamed about was getting home and taking a long, warm bath. The breeze was blowing the frigid evening air against your skin, making you hug your bare arms around your torso. It wasn’t a long walk from your employer’s to your little apartment, but it was enough for your arms to always feel a bit numb after walking in the cold. And you were struggling as it was to make ends mean, which left little leftover to invest in a jacket.
As you looked up at the sky, small snowflakes began to fall around you. The camera in your mind was snapping repeatedly, thinking of all the shots you could get if you had a camera. Despair flooded you with a mix of desperation. The craving to photograph everything was too intense for you to stand.
“You look cold.”
The voice startled you, making you jump almost a foot in the air. You turned to find Bucky staring at you in amusement, a lopsided grin on his face. Even in the dark lighting, he still looked indescribably handsome. As your heartbeat returned to a normal rate, you shot him a playful glare.
“Cold? In the middle of winter?” You asked, tensing your jaw to keep your teeth from chattering. “Unheard of.” He couldn’t hide his smirk as he shook his head, shrugging his jacket off and walking it over to you. “You don’t have to do that.” He ignored you as he wrapped the jacket around your shoulders, closing a few of the buttons to secure it around you. The warmth from his body heat hit you instantly. Despite the annoyed mask on your face, your heart was doing somersaults in your chest.
“Can I walk you home?” He asked you, cocking his head to the side. You opened your mouth to answer, but then closed it again. A sudden wave of embarrassment hit you as you thought of your very small apartment. But then it dawned on you that it was Brooklyn and with the fall of the stock market, everyone lived in small apartments. All negative emotions subsided, and you smiled up at Bucky.
“I’d love that,” You said softly.
The walk was silent, and it was only slightly awkward. Considering you had only met Bucky once before, it was hard to know exactly what to talk to him about. There were multiple times you would glance up at him to already find him staring, and the two of you would bashfully look away.
After a while, the familiar scene to your right made you slow your pace down. As you stared at the bridge, Bucky continued on a few feet before noticing that you were no longer next to him. He turned, looking at you before turning and smiling at the bridge.
“You know, I didn’t forget about the camera,” He told you, bringing your focus back to him. Scoffing, you turned to face him.
“You really don’t have to buy me a new camera,” You assured him. “I’ll just save up again. It’ll be okay.” He shook his head in disapproval as you began to walk again. You could see the alleyway that lead to your apartment from where you were, and it was too cold to keep standing around outside.
“I broke it, I should buy it,” He argued as you lead him down the dark alley. “It’s the least I can do, I could tell you were really excited about it.” The two of you approached the stairwell that lead up to your front door. Intending to leave him there, you turned to him to say goodbye. But he gestured for you to go up, and he followed close behind.
“It’s really fine,” You said, a new firmness in your voice. While you were disappointed to not have your camera, it was easier for you to buy yourself a new one as opposed to waiting on the promises of strangers. You reached your floor, feeling relief as you thought about the heat, while also a bit of disappointment that this is where you’d leave Bucky. For a few seconds, you considered inviting him inside, but you knew how it would look if your neighbors saw the young girl from upstairs who lived alone bringing a man home. When you turned to face him, he leaned his shoulder against the support beam overlooking the alleyway below.
“You have to let me make it up to you somehow,” He said suggestively. You bit back a smile as you turned to your front door, turning the lock with the key from your pocket and pushing the door open. Crossing the threshold, you stopped and turned back to him once more.
“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” You said coyly, slipping off the jacket and handing it back to him before adding a hearty “goodnight” and stepping fully inside. You didn’t fail to catch the awestruck look on his face as he watched you slowly push the door closed.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Dresses littered the floor of your apartment as you changed for what had to be the eighth time. Your date was expected any moment and you still couldn’t decide what to wear. Never had you been this stressed over a measly date, especially with a man who you barely knew. If he had been on time, you wouldn’t have had the chance to overthink your outfit choices.
You smoothed out the wrinkles of your dress for the fourth time. It was your favorite one, and you honestly didn’t know why you didn’t put it on first. Glancing in the mirror, you poked at the pimple that was in the beginning stages on your forehead. You asked yourself if it was an acceptable reason to cancel a date, and proceeded to humor this thought for longer than you care to admit.
You never succeeded in convincing yourself, however, because the knock on your door startled you back to earth. Moving quickly, you stuffed your feet into your shoes and gave yourself a final once over in the mirror before running to the door, hopping over scattered articles of clothing. You threw the door open, but the man who greeted you was not who you were expecting.
Bucky’s hair was slicked back, as it always was, and he was wearing a similar suit to the one he had been wearing in the now three times you had seen him. The only difference with this one was it was clean and carefully pressed, making you wonder if he had asked his mom to do it for him. In his hands was a plate, carefully covered in aluminum foil. You eyed them suspiciously, raising an eyebrow when your eyes jumped back to him. He glanced down at them before looking back up at you, a sheepish smile filling his cheeks.
“They’re cookies,” He explained, holding them out to you. “Couldn’t get flowers because of the cold, and my ma said I can’t show up to a pretty girl’s apartment empty handed.” The corners of your mouth twitched upwards, but you fought against them.
“Bucky, what are you doing here?” You asked him, glancing around quickly for the man who was picking you up any second. Bucky didn’t look the least bit concerned with your anxiety, in fact his smile was so confident that you were almost surprised.
“I figured out how to repay you for your camera,” He said. The kick in his voice made you straighten your posture.
“And how’s that?” You asked, biting your lip. You had a slight feeling where this was going, and you were so desperate to hear him say it. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other.
“I’m gonna take you out,” He declared to you, before shrugging. “To dinner. Maybe a movie, or dancing. Whatever you want.” Once the initial shock subsided, you could no longer hide your smile.
“Oh really?” You asked nonchalantly, as if men showing up at your door and demanding dates was a common part of your daily routine. “And when were you thinking this was going to happen? This evening out?” He scoffed, as if it were the funniest response you could’ve given him.
“I was thinking right now,” He said, looking you up and down. You felt your face drop. This was not the answer you had expected. He gestured up and down at you. “You’re all ready to go, so why not? You got somewhere better to be?”
You stood quietly, stunned by the sudden intrusion of this man who, for the most part, was a stranger to you. But despite that, your entire body screamed at you to say yes. It had only been a few days since he had walked you home, and the curiosity about him was still quite fresh.
Just as you opened your mouth to answer, he shrugged off his coat and threw it over your shoulders. As he closed a couple of buttons, you had a moment of deja vu.
“Even if you say no, it’s too cold for you to be going anywhere in just a dress,” He said delicately. You tilted your head to the side. The way he said it was so tender that it was clear he wasn’t doing it as a way to pressure you to say yes. Which in itself, was making you all the more desperate to say yes.
Before you could stop yourself, you stepped out the front door. As you turned to lock up your apartment, you caught a glimpse of his stunned face. But he said nothing to touch on it. You spun on your heel to face him again, finding his hand out for you.
“You ready, doll?” He asked, a lopsided grin on his face. “Where do you wanna go?” As you slipped your hand in his, you thought about all the restaurants in the area that you could go. But the place didn’t matter, just the company you held.
“You choose,” You told him as you started the descend down the stairs. He put on a show as he thought about where to go, putting his free hand to his chin as he rang out little “hmmm”’s every few seconds. Finally, as the two of you reached the bottom, his eyes lit up.
“I got the perfect place,” He exclaimed. “And we get to walk passed your favorite bridge on the way there.” He glanced your way, in time to catch your smile. An overwhelming flood of attraction flowed through you as he lead you through the alley that lead to to the streets. By the time the two of you had rounded the corner onto the sidewalk, you had completely forgotten about the date you were supposed to have.
From behind, you could hear a car bounce into the alleyway leading to your apartment. You knew it was your official date of the evening, but you continued to walk with Bucky, your hand still in his.
Maybe he should’ve been on time.
Click.
Click.
Click.
“Where’s Steve? He should be here.”
“I said bye to him last night, don’t worry.”
“We have to stop!”
“Why?”
“I wanna take your picture. In front of the bridge.”
“You always take my picture in front of the bridge.”
“Not when you look this handsome. Please?”
Bucky groaned loudly, tugging at the knapsack thrown over his shoulder. Knowing full well how to get your way, you perked out your lower lip and tilted your head down so you were staring at him through your eyelashes. It was never necessary, he always eventually caved. But the extra push never hurt anyone, and thought he would never admit it, he secretly loved it. He sighed, shaking his head as he tried and failed to hold back a smile.
“Fine,” He said as he let you lead him towards the usual spot. “But not too long, or I’ll be late.” Although, as the two of you walked, you wondered if him being late would be the worst thing in the world.
When you got to the bridge, you pulled your camera from your bag. It wasn’t a nice one, just a cheap one that your mother had scraped together the money for a few Christmases ago, but it did the job. You had meant to save up for a better one, but life passed by too fast. And with the war striking fear into everyone, with the aftermath of Pearl Harbor still fresh in the eyes and hearts of America, it was hard to focus on such trivial things.
The two of you walked hand in hand to your usual spot, him only pulling away to get into perfect picture position. As you watched him, you thought of all the pictures you had gotten of him over the three years since you got it, and all the memories you had of the five years since you met. Time had passed in a whirlwind, and sometimes it felt like it had only been a week since he broke your camera. It’s funny, sometimes, how life seems to work.
As you raised your camera, adjusting your footing and standing position to get the perfect light, Bucky suddenly shook his head, turning away from you. You dropped your hands and glared at him.
“What are you doing?” You whined as he began to dig into his knapsack. “Bucky! If we’re late now, it’s your fault.” He didn’t say anything as he searched, his eyes lighting up as he found whatever it was he was looking for. Carefully, he pulled it out of his bag.
“You should take it with this,” He said, handing you a brand new camera. A Leica IIIc. Your jaw hit the floor as you took the camera from his hands, the chill from the chrome finish sending chills up your fingertips. Bucky’s smile was wide as he watched you examine the camera, carefully turning it in your hands. After almost three minutes had passed, you looked back up at him, awestruck.
“I don’t- How did you- What…” You stammered. Bucky laughed, looking up at the sky for a few seconds before looking back at you.
“It’s the camera I owe you,” He explained, shrugging. “I figured it was time to repay what I owe.”
“You broke that camera five years ago,” You reminded him, the corners of your still wide open mouth curling upward. “I had completely forgotten about it.” He shook his head, taking a couple of steps forward and wrapping his arm around your waist.
“I never forgot,” He said, quickly pecking you on the lips. “It’s what brought us together.” He kissed you again before letting you go and getting back into position. “Okay, now take the stupid picture so we can go.” You glared at him, but all he did was smile. You never thought it was possible, but somehow you loved him in this moment more than you had ever before.
As you snapped his picture, in the same place that you had taken hundreds of pictures of him in, you considered that this could be the last one. Nothing was guaranteed in the world of war, and you knew that you had to make these moments count. Through the lens, you took in every detail of Bucky, taking mental pictures as well as physical ones. His enlistment uniform made him look so handsome that you could barely breathe when you looked at him. As your hands lowered the camera from your face, your eyes never left him. If he noticed the sadness that filled your expression, he didn’t allude to it as he broke his still position to approach you.
“We gotta go.” His voice was quiet as he slipped his fingers through the ones on your free hand. You felt dazed as the two of you began to walk again. As carefully as you could with one hand, you slipped your new camera in your bag.
The two of you were completely silent the whole walk to the train station. You were so lost in your anxiety, with your eyes trained on the ground, that you didn’t bother to appreciate the scenery of the walk as you went. The roar of a train whistle startled you from your thoughts, and that’s when you knew you had arrived. You found yourself slowing down your pace, fully expecting Bucky to make a comment about how you were going to make him miss his train. But he didn’t, instead just slowing down his pace with you. It was clear by the look on his face and the way his jaw was clenched that he was just as anxious as you.
In the distance, you could see a long line of men dressed similarly to Bucky climbing aboard one of the long locomotives. As the distance between you and the train engine shortened, your heartbeat increased. Bucky stopped a few yards away from where he needed to enter the train, turning towards you. While his face was calm and nonchalant, his eyes read crestfallen.
“So this is it, huh?” He asked simply, sending a shock of hurt through your chest. It sounded like a definite goodbye. You shifted your feet uncomfortably.
“Only if you don’t come back,” You said quietly. He swallowed hard, looking down at the ground for a few seconds before his gaze found you again. His eyes trailed up and down you, and you tried to ignore the fact that you knew he was memorizing you. You bit your lip as you watched him, waiting for him to speak again. Glancing around at the people surrounding you, your heart broke for the dozens of other couples who were having the same pain and emotions as you were in that exact moment. When you looked back at Bucky, he sighed.
“I’ve never loved someone as much as I love you,” He finally said, making fresh tears fill your eyes. “With your constant need to take pictures of everything, even when you don’t have a damn camera.” He smiled fondly, shaking his head. You sniffled.
“I never thought I’d be more grateful to have my camera broken,” You choked out, trying to hold back the sobs that were coming up your throat. Bucky pressed his palm to your cheek, wiping away the tears with a swipe of his thumb. Raising your hand, you gripped his arm. “Please come home to me.” The desperation in your voice was apparent, but you didn’t even care. You needed him to come home.
“I’ll do my best,” He told you, just as the whistle of the train rang out, signaling it was departing soon. Grabbing the front of your dress, he yanked you forward and slammed his mouth against yours. There was so much ferocity and desperation in the kiss on both ends that it made more tears spill from your eyes. When you pulled away, you found tears had filled his eyes as well, despite how hard he’d tried to hide it. He didn’t say anything as he turned the opposite direction, his grip on the handle of his knapsack so tight that his knuckles were whitening. You watched his feet as they carried him away.
“Bucky!” You called out as he began to climb on the train. He froze, his head snapping in your direction. You sighed deeply as you looked at him. “I love you!” His smiled widely before he quickly disappeared on the train. A large part of you felt hurt and disappointed, until you heard a familiar voice yell your name from behind you. When you turned, you saw Bucky hanging out a window while motioning you to come over. In a heartbeat, you were directly under him. He leaned down, grabbing your face and pulling you up so you were on the tips of your toes before planting another kiss on your mouth. When he pulled away, he smiled at you. It was so wide and bright that you felt like you were looking at the sun.
“I love you, doll,” He repeated back to you. You felt like the world had been lifted off your shoulders. Taking a few steps back, you pulled out the new camera, bringing it to your face.
“Smile, baby!” You exclaimed. He smiled so wide it was hard to not laugh as you took the picture, clicking the button a couple of times before lowering the camera. As if it knew that you were ready, the train roared to life, and slowly began to carry Bucky away. He continued to hang from the window, waving his hand at you as he got further and further away. Part of you thought about running after him, but your feet remained planted where they were. There was no use. He needed to do this, you knew.
You waved after him, endless tears now streaming down your cheeks, until the train rounded the corner. And Bucky was gone.
Click.
Click.
Click.
“Thanks for the call, it means a lot.”
“Thanks for letting me come, considering the bad timing.”
The house was small, the bricks a cross between brown and red, and it was completely surrounded by trees. So many trees that Bucky almost missed it when driving by. Surrounding the porch were lively flowers, bursting in brilliant colors that accented the forest greens. When Bucky climbed up the stairs leading to the front door, he didn’t fail to notice the porch swing to his left, with paint chipped off from age and use. The young woman let him in, and he ignored the glances she stole as he walked inside.
“I’m sorry that my ma, Rebecca, couldn’t be here,” The woman said as she shut the door behind her. “Although, I won’t lie, I didn’t tell her you called.” She looked down at the ground. “With everything happening, with the funeral tomorrow, it would’ve just been too much-” Bucky shook his head.
“I understand.”
Bucky looked around the living room. It was cozy, with pictures hanging on the walls and hand sewn blankets draped off the couches. The walls were a sky blue, making the place look bright. The mantle of the fireplace was lined with various knick knacks and picture frames. His footsteps were slow as he walked towards them, picking one frame up to look closer. It was you, in a grainy picture with a small child. You were older in this picture than he remembered. He could tell by the way your eyes crinkled when you smiled, something he had never known you to have. His eyes dropped down to the child. Although the young girl had your nose and hair color, he couldn’t help but notice the sky blue eyes or the smile that looked all too familiar. Swallowing hard, he set the picture back down. He turned back in time to see the woman re-entering the room, although he hadn’t noticed her leave, struggling as she carried in three large boxes. He took a step forward to offer help, but she dropped them down on the coffee table just before he could. Two were labeled PHOTOGRAPHY and the other was labeled MISC. in bold, thick lettering. But he recognized the handwriting.
“They’re both pretty light, it’s a lot of papers and stuff,” She explained. “But it’s all there. Photo albums, her photography awards and magazine covers and such.” He nodded as he stared down at them. A deep part of him was afraid to even open them.
“Thank you so much,” He said, kneeling down and scooping them into his arms as if they were nothing. The woman shrugged.
“No problem,” She told him. “She would’ve wanted you to have them anyway.” She tilted her head as Bucky looked up at her. “Towards the end it was hard, she didn’t recognize any of us, and she asked about you all the time. We didn’t know what to tell her.” Tears filled the woman’s eyes, and Bucky cursed the fact that his started doing the same. When it began getting hard for him to breathe, he knew he needed a way out.
“I should probably go…” He said all too quickly. “Thanks for everything, Miss…”
“Winifred,” She told him. “But everyone’s called me Winnie since i was little. Winifred is an awful name for a child.” She scrunched up her nose for a few seconds before relaxing again. Her eyes narrowed at him slightly. “I was named after my great grandmother.” She eyed him knowingly, but didn’t say anything more. He nodded at her, ignoring the growing emotions in his chest as he turned and left the house faster than he meant to.
The drive was a long one, as Bucky kept looking at the boxes in his passenger seat. He felt like he was being haunted. Every time he looked at the pile, he could hear your voice echoing through the air. It had been a long time since that had happened. When he came to a stop on the small street in Brooklyn, he climbed out of the car and instantly felt the air leave his lungs.
The spot where the two of you met seemed to remain unchanged in the ever changing world Bucky no longer knew. With the boxes in hand, he carried them to a little bench that had been added, taking a seat and setting the boxes on the ground in front of him. His hands were shaking hard as he opened up the first one, miscellaneous. Inside, he found, were a punch of envelopes that were addressed to you, all in his handwriting. He flipped through all of them, and sure enough, you had saved every single letter he had sent you while away at war. The ones from before and after he had been captured. On each envelope, you had scribbled the date of which you had received it. He saw the large gaps in time, until they stopped altogether. He wondered what it must have been like for you, to have him taken so suddenly and presumed dead, and then returned, to only be ripped away once more. And this time seemingly for good.
Pushing that box aside, he grabbed the other one and carefully opened it. Piled to the rim were endless photographs and photo albums. He noticed as he flipped through that most of them appeared to be of family members, but every few dozen or so, his heart would sting when he would catch a glimpse of your face. Smiling in a family photo, or a blurry candid of you laughing or doing a normal, everyday thing. He hated that he noticed that you never seemed to be pictured with any other man. Towards the bottom, he found multiple magazine publications where your pictures were featured on the cover, or there were massive articles written about you and your work. National Geographic. Time Magazine. Rolling Stone. There were dozens of them. His heart soared with pride as he looked at each and every one. He always knew that something would come of your love for photography. You were just too great at it, and way too passionate for it to go unnoticed.
Finally, he went to the last box, taking a look around to make sure no one was around. He was in no mood to have people ogling at the big scary man crying over these boxes. When the box covers flipped open, his heart skipped a full beat.
Inside was a mountain of pictures of him. Every single one that you had taken throughout the five years you and him were together. Candids of him at his apartment, or at yours. Photos you made him smile for, as well as the ones he refused to smile for. Photos of him sleeping that he didn’t know you had taken until that moment. Every single damn photo of him in front of the bridge. They were all there. Tears were now falling down his face as he flipped through the piles. There was none of you, only him.
At the bottom, he found multiple folders. Flipping one open, he was greeted by the picture of him in front of the bridge in his enlistment uniform. The final one. It was blown up bigger than the others, but the picture itself was better quality. It was then he remembered the camera he had given you that day, the one he had saved up for months in preparation for. He flipped the page to find a certificate. The Pulitzer Prize for Photography, made out to you. He choked on his breath as he flipped to the next one. National Geographic Photo Contest award. The Sony World Photography Awards. The list went on as he flipped through each piece of paper. Bucky was fully crying now, letting out quiet sobs. On one hand, he was proud of you beyond words for everything you had accomplished, but his heart ached for the fact that he wasn’t there to see any of it.
As he reached for another folder at the bottom, his hand scraped against something hard that was shoved in the corner, buried and unseen underneath all the pictures. Eyebrows knitting together, he pulled it out.
The Leica IIIc.
Your face the minute you received it flashed in his mind. It was so fresh that it was like it had just happened. The O shape your mouth made. The light that filled your eyes. The way you cradled it with such delicacy, as if it was handcrafted just for you.
It was probably worth a fortune to the right person, and yet you kept it. After all this time. He wiped a hand across his face, leaving a trail of wet tears behind it over his cheeks. He rotated the camera in his hands, staring at it. He didn’t understand before, but now he felt everything for this camera that you had all those years ago. Even if for different reasons.
“I’m sorry I’m late, doll,” He whispered in a hoarse voice. The sun beamed off the chrome of the camera, reminding him of the way it looked when it reflected off your eyes. More tears fell from his eyes. “But I’m home.”
Click.
Click.
Click.