This
exhaustive analysis is by
cake-writes and will be reproduced in 4 parts because it is
so long and
so definitive. What a work of outstanding Stucky scholarship, if I may use that term, LOL!
Bucky’s Apartment: a completely unnecessary psycho(over)analysis.
Stairwell
Third apartment on the 20th floor. He’s also really close to the roof access point, which is yet another way to escape if he needs to.
There is a PLANT outside of his next-door neighbour’s door.
It’s not his; it’s situated a little too far back to be, but just imagine him seeing it every day when he gets home. Bucky might not trust himself to keep a plant alive, at least not yet, but he’d get to see that one grow. Noticing the changes day-to-day would make him smile, I think.
Oh, and the neighbour right below him has a wreath on their door. That’s something he’d see every day, too.
Other observations:
- His apartment has TONS of lights. Like, way too many lights for such a small studio. At least he could pick and choose which one(s) to light for the desired effects outside, I guess? Lots of privacy, or he could cast shadows as a diversion, or something. This may or may not have been strategic like the rest.
- Most of his belongings appear to be secondhand. He would have scrounged for them somewhere, flea markets, etc. instead of paying full price. His kitchen utensils, mugs, dishes, pots and pans are mismatched, and so is all of his furniture. Everything is imperfect, just like him.
- Let’s briefly talk about the specific location he’s chosen to live. If you watch the chase scene closely (too many screenshots to attach unfortunately): one side of his apartment building is in the middle of the city with a 30 km/h speed limit (18-19 mph); the opposite side of the building is where he jumps on top of looks like a bus port; on the other side of that is a freeway with access to a train line. Tons of ways to disappear.
About Bucky’s clutter / messiness:
At first glance, you’d think he doesn’t really seem to care about it. And hey, maybe he doesn’t and the rest of this is just psychobabble, but:
- There are at least 2-3 days’ worth of dishes piling up (or just one if you go by another one of my headcanons, up to you), and a ton of newspapers scattered everywhere.
- This could be him trying to adjust to a (kind of) normal life. He’s not used to it, sure, but he clearly doesn’t tidy up. Why is that? Does he not feel the need to? We know he needs to be able to leave in a pinch, so I guess he doesn’t care about the state of things.
- Nope! He does, as indicated by that floral towel hanging so pristinely on the oven handle. He wouldn’t decorate if he didn’t care, which means he does care but he doesn’t have the desire to clean up.
- Which leads me to think that he has some form of depression. Of course he does. He’s been through so much. His 10-20 journals scattered about the place also reflect this.
- There are parallells betwen his apartment and the state of his mind. It’s messy; parts of it are broken. But, like the sofa cushion, it can be repaired.
- So let’s talk about the sofa for a second. And the chairs. Chairs, plural. As in, more than one, for more than one person. He might have wanted some company – might have been lonely – and maybe he even had the opportunity to socialize, but I think he would have had to stop himself from getting too close. To me, the chairs signify a desire to bond with the world again, bond with people again, and with that he’d learn to trust again. He has a desire to reconnect, but he just can’t find it in himself to clean up his mind, clean up his guilt, clean up his apartment because he’d never want someone to see or have to experience that side of him.
- Or maybe he’s too scared to even try – and because he’s scared, he doesn’t try to clean up his apartment and the vicious cycle of depression continues.
- Or, is he reverting back to the days when someone took care of him? As I pointed out earlier, his mother and his sisters would have done the housework in the 40s. I think that would have made him feel safe and loved, uncorrupted, because it was an experience he had before the War, before Hydra.
- Another thought about the newspapers. I wonder if he purposely keeps them because he’s afraid that he’ll forget the things he read. It also serves as a way to ground him, seeing all of the papers – all of the days – he’s managed to stay himself.
- He’d buy a newspaper every day to have a record of the date, too. He’d likely have routines as all people do, but he might try to shake them up every day – not just so people can’t track him, but so he can remember for sure what he did yesterday. On Mondays, he might go to the park. On Tuesdays, he might go to a coffee shop (and mix it up with different ones). So if Wednesday comes around and he can’t remember going to the coffee shop yesterday after buying his paper – and he would check the date on the paper as a safeguard – then something is wrong.
Or, you know, it’s just an apartment. 🤷
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