"Well, I'll tell you, then." Steve said, moving to sit on the far edge of the couch, "I'm not going to get mad at you, or tell the others, or stop talking to you or…anything like that." He took a slow breath, "I'm here. You're here. I'll willing to listen, cause I know it'll help. Even if it's hard."
Bucky closed his eyes for a moment, and shook his head again. "I can't." He whispered, the words carried out in a faint breath.
"And I'm saying you can, even if it's not today or with me." Steve said in a softened tone, his voice quiet and empathetic, with his concern etched into his expression, "Even the smallest thing, Bucky. It's okay…you can tell me."
He took a deep breath, left hand clenching again, unclenching. Unable to feel anything with that limb. "I can't." He repeated.
"I know it's hard, it's going to be that way for a while." He told him, knowing that he could stay here, telling him soft reassurances all day if it would help. "I'm right here, Buck. You can say anything to me, you know that."
Bucky shrugged his shoulders a little bit. "…fine." he finally replied, accepting Steve's words. But he still…he couldn't talk about HYDRA and what had happened. He couldn't.
"Okay," Steve said with a slow nod. Baby steps. Like the books said. After the arctic recovery and finally getting settled into the process of his new life, he'd come across a series of bookstores displaying different works under the genre of 'self-help,' which he didn't hesitate in buying.
Bucky took a deep breath, running his flesh hand through his hair and trying to process all of this.
"So," Steve started, trying to bring in the knowledge he'd acquired from the books, "If you're comfortable picturing it, what's the least painful thing you remember? It could be the smallest thing."
He shrugged his shoulders slightly. "I don't know." He replied softly, taking a deep breath.
Steve nodded thoughtfully, hoping he might find a way do decrypt his simple words. "Mhm…So…what seems like the safest thing to talk about right now? Concerning all the stuff you don't want to talk about?"
Bucky shrugged his shoulders. "I…I don't know. Most of the stuff I remember you already know about." he said softly.
"But…most of it?" Steve piped, feeling like he should take note of any important bits. "But there's a part– another part that you're hesitant to share."
"Yeah." he replied quietly. "And I'm not saying anything about…about those ones." he swallowed, tucking hair back.
Steve sighed, "Well, if they're that bad, and you're not comfortable with telling me, maybe you should consider eventually talking to someone else," He shrugged, feeling a little helpless. "Like–"
"I'm not going to a therapist!" He exclaimed before Steve could finish. "I'm not doing that." He clenched his jaw.
"How else are you going to get through this?" Steve pleaded, resting his elbows on his knees as he spoke, gesturing with his hands for emphasis. "You're hurting. This thing that you won't tell me– it's hurting you. This…thing is crippling you, Bucky."
Bucky shook his head. "I can deal with it on my own, Steve. I don't need some shrink tellin' me everything that's wrong with my head."
"Nothing's wro– Is that what you think therapists do?" Steve shook his head, looking at him with pleading eyes, begging him to understand, "That's not– that's not what they do. Therapy is just a safe place to talk to someone who understands how these things affect people. That's it."
Bucky snorted softly. "I don't need a therapist." I don't need to talk about it. He clenched his jaw for a moment.
"Oh my g–" Steve softly groaned, rubbing his face tiredly. "Just– how about this," He started, "What if it was me? Hm? What if all the things that happened to you, all the stuff you won't talk about happened to me. Do you still think I wouldn't need to see a therapist or even just talk about it?"
He closed his eyes, clenching his jaw with frustration. "It wouldn't have happened to you because you've never been in a position where you couldn't say no, Steve!" He snapped.
Steve took a breath, clenching and unclenching his hands that desperately ached to reach out for him. "It– it was a rhetorical." He said slowly. Couldn't say no? "But…what do you mean by that?"
He shook his head quickly. "No. It… nothing." He said, taking a deep breath. "Nothing."
"…'Doesn't sound like nothing," Steve said, trying to piece together these meagre clues within the silence of their replies. "Would you…tell me if it wasn't 'nothing?'"
He hesitated a moment, then shook his head. "No." he replied softly. "I-I don't think I would."
Steve sighed, trying to piece together his mental notes so far. He's hesitant, 'couldn't say no', doesn't wanna see a therapist, won't tell me if it isn't just 'nothing.' A little idea was forming. Blurry, incoherent, and vague…but it was there. Something had indeed happened. Something bad– so bad that he can't bear thinking about. "So…it's not nothing." Steve said slowly, quietly ruling it out, "I know that now, so…"
(I'm sorry that this is so dark, but… knowing human nature and adding in the fact that Bucky's programming literally wouldn't have let him disobey a CO…it's a plausible thing to have happened if you've caught on to what I've been…insinuating)
Bucky was silent, letting Steve talk. He wrapped his flesh arm around himself, tapping his fingers against the cold metal of his left arm.
(? do you mean he litterally can't tell him? 0_0)
"It's a little complicated," Steve admitted, his eyebrows drawing together in thought. "I– I don't know if what I'm thinking is right."
(uh…uh…no not that it's… something else. But he "can't" tell him bc a lot of the time victims have a really hard time telling other ppl what happened, so)
Bucky shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know what you're thinking, so." He replied softly, his flesh arm still wrapped around himself.