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Bucky knew he needed to tell Sam. They were dating, officially, for two weeks and Bucky knew he should have told Sam before now. Should have told him a long time ago, but the longer he waited the harder it became and then Bucky thought that… just maybe he wouldn't have to tell Sam.
The nightmares were bad, about that one particular mission, whenever he slept. They'd only gotten worse now that Sam was sleeping next to him.
Sam was on his list.
That's good. Start with one.
Bucky had done that, starting with Yori. It'd gone… not horrible, Yori hadn't yelled. Just… politely asked Bucky to leave and hadn't talked to him since. Didn't want that to happen to Sam, too. Didn't want to lose him. He'd lost too many people. Even though he knew telling Sam meant everything they'd built was going to crumble with the confession… Bucky also knew he couldn't keep living with the guilt. With the secret. With the nightmares.
Plus, Sam couldn't completely cut him out, right?
They still had to work together, whether they wanted to or not, right?
Just like they had with the flagsmashers.
They'd work through it.
They had to.
Sam would be upset, reasonably so, but they'd work through it.
Yeah.
Yeah, they'd work through it. They'd be okay in the end. Because Bucky had to believe that. Had to believe in that, because he couldn't lose Sam too. Not after everything, after everything he'd already lost.
He needed Sam.
They were laying together, on the floor in Bucky's apartment. Sam never pushed Bucky to move to a bed, never pushed him to do anything he wasn't ready to do. Sam wouldn't make Bucky tell him this, but he needed to. That's why he couldn't let Sam have a say in when Bucky told him, because then Bucky wouldn't ever tell him.
He'd never be ready.
But he had to do it.
Because he couldn't live with himself knowing he kept something this big from Sam. Could barely live with himself that he's kept it from Sam this long.
He rolled over to face Sam, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard, worrying his bottom lip. Wasn't sure how to start this conversation. Wasn't sure how to tell Sam. Sam had only just started opening up to Bucky about Riley recently and now Bucky had to tell him that…
Couldn't think too hard about it.
Had to just act.
"You're staring, Buck." Sam muttered, cracking open an eye to look at him and offered a small calming smile.
Another hard swallow.
"Sorry. You sleepin'?" It was a stupid question, obviously Sam wasn't. Otherwise he wouldn't be talking to Bucky, but asking was easier than the conversation they needed to have. Needed to find some gateway to it, and this was just one desperate attempt at finding a way to.
"Does it sound like I am, Buck?"
"No." A long silence fell over them and Bucky started worrying his lip once again, forcing his eyes closed so he wasn't staring at Sam the entire time. "Can we talk?" His voice was quiet, obviously scared and he knew Sam was going to pick up on that.
And he did, propping himself up on his elbow to look at Bucky properly. "What's up?"
Bucky hated how compassionate Sam was, how damn willing he was to listen and understand people. So damn considerate and caring. Didn't make this any easier. Didn't know how to tell Sam, but his mind was blanking on excuses of things he'd want to talk about in place of it. Anything. Talk about anything else. "It's Riley." He swallowed hard again, eyes opening to look up and meet Sam's.
He looked confused, eyebrows furrowed together and mouth making small movements— trying to find words to respond to that. "What? Bucky, if this is because I told you we had been engaged before– before…" Sam was choking up, couldn't finish that sentence, not with the words engaged and died in the same sentence about Riley.
And maybe Bucky should just nod, pretend that's what he was going on about, and cuddle Sam to sleep. He could deal with the nightmares.
But Sam deserved to know.
"No, no, not that." And Bucky's heart was aching, clenching in his chest because it hurt to have to tell Sam. To know he was going to cause pain to the man he had loved for so many years and only just recently got to hold onto. But he needed to do it. "About what happened to him. About me."
His voice came out oddly steady, calm, for how Bucky was feeling. Heart thundering in his chest, panicking.
Sam was fully sitting up now, blanket pooling around his waist and his arms fidgeting, trying to find a place to put them but he couldn't find a good one. "What the hell are you talking about, Buck?" And it sounded like Sam was about to fucking cry and that hurt Bucky even more. Knowing he was the one causing Sam this pain. But he needed to know.
Deserved to know.
"When I was the Winter Soldier—"
"No…" Sam was moving away, already on his feet, voice faltering and catching in his throat. He shook his head, like doing that would keep Bucky from telling him. Keep it from being true.
Without realizing Bucky was up too, moving towards Sam, flesh hand reaching out, trying to comfort him but it was quickly shrugged off and Bucky backed away.
"It wasn't me, Sam. I wouldn't do that to you." He tried to reason. "I didn't want to—"
"Don't." And the voice came rough and demanding and completely unlike Sam's usual voice. It was usually soft and sweet and caring and gentle.
"Didn't want to kill him— Sam, I didn't have a choice. That's what you've always said to me, please, I need you to believe it more than you ever have right now." Bucky was basically begging him, fighting back his own tears and holding back reaching out for Sam again, reaching out for comfort. "Please say it wasn't my fault."
Sam always said it wasn't Bucky's fault, what he did as the Winter Soldier, but this time Sam stayed quiet and was just shaking his head as he pushed himself against the wall. Bucky couldn't help but notice that Sam was trying to stay as far away from Bucky as he could get, trying to slowly move towards the door like if he went slow enough Bucky wouldn't realize. Like if Bucky did realize, he'd trap Sam in the apartment.
"Sam, please." He shouldn't have said anything. Should have kept it to himself. Because anything was better than what was happening right now.
"You killed him." The voice came out weak and Bucky could see the tears streaming down Sam's cheeks in the night lights. It was so quiet, barely above a whisper, and wavering as he continued to inch his way towards the exit.
"I didn't— it wasn't me, Sam." Bucky took a step forward, his own eyes swelling with tears because it was happening again— he was going to be alone again — but Sam flinched and held out an arm in warning and Bucky froze in place.
"You killed the love of my life." He repeated, gasping for breath in between words, his chest heaving. Sam was scared, scared of Bucky and that's what hurt the most in this entire situation. The one person who, after Bucky was out of the programming, had never regarded him with fear for what he had been— and that included Steve. But now he was. And it hurt, made Bucky's stomach twist in a whole new way.
"Sam, I—" Another step forward and Sam was glancing around desperately for something, probably some weapon so he could stop Bucky— but Bucky would never hurt him.
He had though.
Hurt Sam more than anything ever could while he was the Winter Soldier, that damned day when he shot Riley out of the sky and made sure Sam's fiancé was dead.
"Stay away from me, James." Sam snarled , actually snarled, at Bucky. And Bucky backed off, taking a few steps back, trying to show Sam that he was different now, that he wasn't going to hurt people anymore, that he didn't want to hurt Sam. But Sam just moved towards the door, not taking his eyes off Bucky the entire time just in case Bucky tried something. "Don't… don't talk to me. We're… we're done. Completely. For good. Stay the hell away from me."
With that, Sam was gone out of the apartment. Gone from Bucky's life. And once again, Bucky was alone.
He collapsed onto the ground.