When Bucky came home the apartment was quiet, too quiet. Not a peaceful quiet he liked to come home to after long hard missions. It felt heavy, wrong. Bucky stood outside the apartment door longer than usual, keys in hand. Normally there would be some type of noise on the other side of the door. Maybe music, the TV, your laugh. But tonight there was nothing. And the second he walked into the apartment, he could feel the tension. The lights were on, your shoes were kicked off near the couch, there was a basket of unfolded laundry abandoned on the floor, a cabinet halfway open, sink full of dishes, grocery bags on the table still full. It was a mess, like you started—but then gave up. Bucky closed the door behind him. "Sweetheart?" he called out softly. No answer. Then he heard uneven breathing coming from the bedroom. Immediately his stomach twisted with concern. He moved quickly, but carefully through the apartment, finding you curled up on the bed in sweatpants and one of his shirts. Your eyes were red, not watery. Just red, swollen, tired. Like you had been crying for hours. "Hey," he said instantly, his voice dropping gentle. "Hey, sweetheart." The moment you saw him, your eyes filled with tears again. That was all it took. Bucky crossed the room immediately, dropping to sit beside you on the bed. "What happened?" You tried to shake your head. "Nothing." The word came out broken. He knew better than you believe you. He took his hand and brushed your hair away from your face, while his other hand was placed on your knee. "Talk to me." And suddenly, everything came out at once. You had the worst day. Your alarm didn’t go off and you overslept, spilled coffee on yourself before work and had to change your outfit twice. Was late to work. Got yelled at by your boss for something that wasn’t even your fault. You went to the grocery store, as you walked to the car one of the bags tore and everything fell out. And of course, the washing machine just had to be the cherry on top. Every thing just stacked on top of each other, until you eventually gave up. And the whole time, the only thing you could think of was that Bucky was going to be home soon. The apartment was a mess, and didn't hadn't even been started. "I couldn't do anything right today." It broke Bucky's heart listening to you. Bucky's eyes wandered around the room, then back to you. "You haven't eaten," he said quietly. That made you cry even more. "Was supposed to make dinner.. couldn't even do that. I'm sorry." He stopped. "Hey." He gently moved your hands away from your face. "Don't apologize." "But—" "Don't apologize," he repeated firmly.