“And they called me the…Winter Soldier,” he finished, rubbing his lips together and waiting for your reaction.
Your jaw was practically on the floor, your eyes as wide as saucers. You took a deep breath, “You’re an assassin…” he nodded, “from the 1940s…” he nodded again, “who worked for Hydra…” and another nod, “But not anymore,” you finished. He took a deep breath and looked away from you.
“(y/n),” he said, his hand reaching for you. You jerked away, “Just…give me moment, James,” I whispered. “(y/n),” he sighed, disappointment filling his voice. You got up, pacing the room before turning and look at him.
“Are you sorry?” you demanded, fear filling your gaze as you worried about the result of his confession. He put his elbows on his knees, and ran his hands through his hair. When he looked up, it almost looked as if he were about to cry, “All the time.”
Your eyes watered and you walked over to him, kneeling between his legs. You put your hands on his cheeks gently, with a shaky voice you said, “I believe that you aren’t that person,” you whispered, the tears pouring down your cheeks, “I believe they made you into a monster.” He locked eyes with you, his gaze resembling that of a deer in headlights, fear shrouding his usually clear gaze. “And I believe that you are not that monster anymore,” you smiled, pecking his lips gently, “And I love you so, so much.”