Saving Bucky-Rewrite

Obviously, he's rusty at conversation.

Tonight, though, it's too quiet, and I'm too bored to ignore him anymore. I tap the bar to get his attention.

"Hey," I say, loud enough to cut through the stillness.

He looks up at me from under the brim of his cap, startled. Then, to my surprise, he stands, nervous, and walks over to the bar. He places some cash on the counter.

"I'll head out soon if you're wanting to close up," he says softly, his voice deeper and smoother than I expected.

I can't help but smile. Is that what he thinks? "I'm not closing up yet, hun," I say, leaning on the bar. "It's just quiet, and I'm bored." I let the whine slip into my voice on purpose.

He looks at me, confused, like he's trying to figure out what I'm really saying. Obviously, he's rusty at conversation. "Have a seat," I tell him, motioning to the stool in front of me.

He hesitates for a moment but finally sits, his hands resting on his thighs. He looks like he doesn't know what to do with himself.

"So," I start, leaning forward slightly, "you're here all the time, and I don't know your name."

"My name?" he asks, like it's a trick question.

"Yeah," I say, flashing him a tired smile. "I know all my other regulars here, but you, sir, are a mystery. So?"

He glances at me, unsure, but after a pause, he replies, "Bucky."

"Bucky?" I ask, tilting my head. "Is that short for something?"

For a brief moment, the corner of his mouth twitches upward, like he wants to smile but doesn't quite let himself. "Yeah, um, my middle name's Buchanan, but I go by Bucky."

"Buchanan, huh? Fancy," I tease. "You have a first name, Bucky?"

He hesitates again, almost like he's debating whether to tell me. Finally, he says, "James."

"James," I repeat, testing the name on my tongue. "I like it. Suits you." I extend my hand, grinning. "I'm Olivia. Everyone here just calls me Liv."

He stares at my hand for a moment, like he's not sure what to do, but eventually, he takes it. His grip is gentle, cautious. For the first time, he smiles—a real smile, small but genuine. "It's nice to meet you, Olivia."

"So formal, James," I tease, giggling. "Now that we've met, call me Liv. Let me get you another whiskey."

"Oh, no, it's okay," he says quickly. "I closed out my tab—"

"I know you did," I cut him off, pouring the drink. "This one's on me, hun." I wink at him, and to my delight, I see the faintest blush creep up his neck. He nods silently, accepting the drink.

"So, Bucky," I ask as I slide the glass toward him, "what brought you to this place?"

He picks up the glass, swirling the liquid before answering. "Well, it's close to my house."

I laugh. "Not this bar, I mean this town."

"Oh." He shifts in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. "I, uh... needed a change, I guess."

"Are you from Oregon?" I press, curious.

"Brooklyn, actually," he replies, his voice soft but steady.

"Wow," I say, leaning forward with a grin. "So what poor choice led you here? No offense, but... this town..."

Bucky raises an eyebrow, a faint glimmer of humor flickering in his expression. "What makes you think I made poor choices to end up here? Couldn't I just like the rain?"

I laugh again, harder this time, and for a moment, I see it—the smallest flicker of light in his piercing blue eyes. Maybe there's more to Mr. Mysterious than I thought.

I couldn't help but smile at him. He's usually so soft-spoken, shy even, with this anxious energy that makes him fidget and glance around like he's always waiting for something bad to happen. But tonight, there's something different—something just a little bolder in the way he sits across from me.

I grab a glass and pour myself a beer. Taking a seat opposite him, I decide to break the silence with something easy, something that's been on my mind.

"I used to love the rain," I say, swirling the bottle in my hand.

His piercing blue eyes lift from his glass. "Used to?"

I nod. "Yeah. I'd listen to it fall on the roof at night, let it put me to sleep. It was comforting, you know?"

He tilts his head slightly, curious. "Do you not like it anymore?"

I take a long gulp of my beer, letting the cold bitterness settle before answering. "Mmm. I don't know. Sometimes things change." I shrug, brushing the thought aside. "So, what do you do?"

"Uh..." He shifts slightly in his seat. "Construction, handyman work, odd jobs."

"Really? Can you fix sinks?"

He looks at me, confused, as if I'd just asked a mechanic if they could fix a flat tire. "Um... well... sure, I can. Yeah."

I smirk, leaning forward. "Because we've got a sink upstairs that won't drain. The only plumber in town tried to fix it, but he just made it worse. Think you'd be willing to take a look at it?"

He smiles, a real, genuine smile that lights up his face in a way I don't see often. "I could try."

I glance toward Jake, who's practically passed out at the end of the bar, head resting on his arms, dead to the world.

"Now?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

His smile falters slightly, and he looks at me like I've suggested something outrageous. "Now? I mean... it's late. I could come back in the morning if that's easier."

"Nonsense," I say, waving him off. "We're both here now, and I'm not leaving anytime soon. Let me call Jake a cab, and then I'll lock up and we can head upstairs. That okay?"

He nods, still looking a little hesitant but not arguing. I grab my phone and call Jake a cab. It doesn't take long for the driver to arrive. I help Jake shuffle his way out, making sure he's safely in the car before turning back to the bar.

Locking the door behind me, I begin shutting everything down for the night: turning off the lights, wiping the counters, and counting the till. Bucky watches me quietly, standing by the door like he's unsure what to do with himself.

"All right," I say, grabbing the keys and motioning for him to follow me. "Let's go take a look at this fucking thing."

He trails behind me as I lead him up the narrow staircase to the apartment above the bar, the sound of his boots heavy on the wooden steps. Something about having him here, in my space, feels oddly comforting. I glance back at him, catching the flicker of curiosity in his eyes as we reach the top of the stairs.