You didn't like leaving Bucky at home on his own. It had been your job to help him adapt to the changes in the world. Steve insisted he would be fine doing it, but after he broke the DVD player, you decided it was for the best to not trust him. Once you had helped him adapt enough that he seemed like he was functioning well enough, well during the day anyway, he had been given the option to move out of the tower and live with Steve. He didn't. He asked to live with you.

At first you didn't know why. However he made it clear that he trusted you, and knew that Steve needed some time to himself without having to take care of him.

When Bucky moved in with you, you had to start working, but realised sometimes that wasn't for the best. He had terrible nightmares, and during the days he would have panic attacks. The nights were by far the worse, but you didn't have an option really but to leave him, even after you started a relationship, you needed to work most days.

Today was one of the worst. You arrived home, announcing your arrival from the front door. He didn't respond like he would usually. You walked towards his bedroom, seen as that was the most likely place he could be. Pushing open the door, you were welcomed by a mess.

"Buck?" You whispered.

The mirror that was hung on the wall was shattered over the ground, and Bucky was sat amongst the shards of glass, tears falling down his cheeks.

You made your way over to him, kneeling in front of him, doing your best to not injure yourself on the mirror shards. From the sharp pain in your left knee you assumed you hadn't done a good job of avoiding the pieces.

"What happened? Are you okay?" You questioned, attempting to hold a warm smile on your face.

"I... I'm a monster," he whispered, still continuing to cry.

You reached a hand out to hold his flesh hand, but noticed the cuts, scrapes and imbedded glass across his knuckles, so instead you held his wrist rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand.

"No you aren't. Why would you say that?" You said softly.

"Don't be blind to the fact Y/N. I killed people. I killed so many people. They were innocent, and I killed them. And now I have this arm and it just shows how much of a monster I am. I can't live like this," he said with his voice breaking into sobs.

Your other hand moved to his cheek, forcing him to look you in the eyes. Whenever he was like this, it made you feel terrible. You could see where he was coming from with his ideas that he is a monster, but all you could see was the man you loved and it broke you that he couldn't see how amazing he was.

"I love you Bucky. You are perfect. Yes you did so many bad things, but you didn't really do them. You had no control and no one blames you. I don't see a monster, I never have. All I can see is the boy that Steve told me so much about, the soldier that fought for his country, the survivor who is still here today as he never gave up fighting, and the man I am desperately in love with," you smiled softly. "I also see the idiot that when deciding to punch a mirror uses his breakable hand rather than the metal one. Would you like me to clean up your hand, before we clean up the floor?"

He hesitated for a second, moving his metal hand up to cup your hand that covered his cheek.

"Why are you so nice to me?" He asked, teary eyed.

"Because you're a good man. You spent so long without having someone there for you, and now you have Steve and the others and you have me. I love you. I love everything about you. I wouldn't change your past, but if I could I'd change the pain you feel, I'd change your perception of yourself as all I want is for you to be happy, and for you to see what you truly mean to me," you smiled warmly.

You stood up, hissing out slightly at the pain in your leg, but helped pull Bucky to his feet.

"Come on let's get you cleaned up. Then we can worry about the mess," you said softly entwining your fingers with his metal hand, leading him to the bathroom so you could do your best to get the glass from his hand. 

~*~

Written by Charlotte.