AMAYA

The silent exchange forced Natasha to place her drink down. She shared a curious glance with Tony who only shrugged. 

Bucky constantly longed for the tiny flickers of you his mind would grant him, a haven he turned to when he felt his programming slowly creep in, oozing through his thoughts, removing all colour and turning everything black, tar waiting to be set alight. 

Fragments of your laughter echoed in his mind—soft, bright, piercing through the darkness like shards of light. The ghost of your lips against his skin burned hotter than any memory Hydra could plant, a relentless reminder that beneath the layers of control and pain, he was still there. And so were you, fighting to lift him above the wreckage.

Pulling free a leather folio, Bucky let out a small breath. The cover, worn, fraying at the edges just like his own memories. Steve’s sigh tore through the silence, a warning to the rest of the group to tread carefully - to let his friend grieve. 

Within the aged leather bounds of his wallet was a small picture of you, that he let his thumb roll over, eyes closed, imagining every dip and curve of your fingerprints that once were imprinted on top, sliding the photograph in, a fond smile across your lips. 

“This way you’ll never forget me.”

Bucky sputtered, chuckling just like he did when you’d turned around and clasped his fingers around his wallet. The light melded with the tears that lined his eyes, everything suddenly bright and sparkling, not so different to how he used to feel in your presence except this time there was a dull ache that shadowed every thought and feeling.  

He couldn’t possibly ever forget you. His feisty neighbour, one that searched for reasons to challenge him, pushed him to be the best version of himself, the one that would unintentionally provide countless reasons to remind him that it was you, and only you. There could be no other. 

“It’ll take a lot more than a lost photograph for me to forget you, because you’re engraved,” 

He spoke softly, tapping at the center of his chest “Right here.”

Your brows furrowed together with a quizzical look but the confusion was very quickly diluted by something tender. Bucky reached for your hand. Hoping to show you how your mere presence changed the beating of his heart, but you batted it away, consciously glancing over your shoulder. 

“Someone might see us!” 

“Then Steve’ll let us know.” He pointed to the distant boy-like figure, Steve, shielding his eyes as he watched you two, returning Bucky’s wave. 

Bucky’s warm hands tugged yours ever so slightly, grabbing your attention again as he smirked, a playful glint in his eye as his lips pressed against each finger flirtatiously. He watched your cheeks flush and your body stiffen before you let yourself indulge in his touch, promising yourself this wouldn’t be your last meeting, but your stomach still churned at the thought of him leaving. 

Bucky noticed the slight tremble of your lip before you replaced it with a wider smile, attempting to pull away. “Hey - hey!” He caught your wrist, gently reeling you back in before you got too far. “I’ll be back before you know it.” 

In a split second you wrapped your arms round his neck. Breathing him in. The smell of cotton and starch, clinging to his scent, almost sterilising it as though trying to scrub away every bit of his rawness. You pulled him closer, finally finding the citrusy, crisp scent that softened into something floral, finally finding him. Lingering in his arms you finally pulled away, letting your hands caress his cheeks.

“Don’t you dare die.” your voice broke at the end, even though you intended for it to sound playful, striking Bucky’s chest as he tightened his grip around you and let his lips make contact with any part of you that he could reach.

“Promise me James Buchanan Barnes -” 

Oh, the things he’d give up just to feel your lips against his. To hear your voice dripping with your sweet smile. To let his fingers ease out the tiny creases in your forehead.

He handed the wallet to Natasha, his hands trembled slightly and she immediately covered his hands with her own, gripping the wallet as though stopping glass from shattering at any time, caught in between a second where it was still and where it struck the ground. 

Bucky’s chest felt like it was caving in, every buried emotion threatening to rip free. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—let it. Losing you had been too much already, and giving in to this flood would mean losing the only piece of you he had left: the memories he clung to like a lifeline. So, he shoved it all back down, locking it away behind a thick, protective wall of control that barely held.

With a rough, steadying breath, he pointed at the picture, keeping his gaze fixed anywhere but the curious eyes now boring into him. The sound that left him was low, almost guttural, a desperate attempt to hold on to whatever pieces still felt like yours. “That’s Y/N,” he said, voice cracking at the edges, but still managing to hold firm. Because he had to.

Steve sat still, meeting Bucky’s eyes with a solemn smile. 

Natasha barely let herself touch it so as not to ruin the only trace of you that was left. Tony peered at it, attempting to seem unfazed but masked his own discomfort with gulps of his drink. 

“She’s beautiful.” Her voice seemed distant to herself, lost in the thoughts of you two together, how the smile on Bucky’s face would be ten times more different than it is now. She wondered if she had overstepped with the question. Steve’s discreet glances seemed to hint as though she had. 

“You’re telling me.” Bucky chuckled lightly, tipping his own glass back, hoping he could pry his voice free from the sudden pressure it had been placed under. He closed his eyes momentarily intruded by the sight of your grave. He could still feel the way the soil around him clung to every bit of his skin as he clawed out the leaves cleaning the space where you lay. 

He forced his eyes open, eyeing his hands again, remnants of this morning still stuck under his fingernails and he grimaced. 

“Does she - did she know you were alive?” Sam cleared his throat, awkwardly shifting in his seat, glancing at Natasha for a moment before turning back to Bucky. 

Steve barely shook his head and Bucky simply mimicked him, feeling another constriction in his chest. As the seconds passed he felt like his entire body was being twisted in half. Ever since he’d come back he was being forced to face the harsh and frustratingly painful reality that so much of his life was stolen from him and he couldn’t do anything about it. 

Bucky felt the seat beside him dip and a hand clap his shoulder lightly, Steve catching his eye for a moment, his smile saying it all, that he hadn’t been the only one and while he knew it was supposed to bring him comfort he only felt emptier.

Even though Steve was first to break away from their silent conversation Bucky couldn’t help but observe him for a second longer. Noticing the way he’d been looking at him with hopeful, relieved eyes since the day they met, the slight release of air from his lips when Bucky would smile back at him as though convincing himself that the darker, missing years of their lives were worth something. 

There was nothing else really worth living. 

****

Bucky searched for any form of an emotion within him. Yet another set of years taken away without his consent. He should’ve been angry, yet his core felt bare, empty, a sulleness taking over him. He wondered if this is what being at peace truly felt like. Simple detachment. 

He watched as Steve clicked the suitcase close, a sense of purpose and pride in his step as he smile softly at Bruce, his eyes flickering towards Bucky but never truly staying on him. What could possibly have been going through his head? 

As he approached him he halted facing Sam with a smile, a smile Bucky had only seen when they were children - a smile that had a slight kink on the side almost as though it was weighted down by the secret plot Steve had planned. Bucky’s neck protruded slightly as he listened into their conversation. 

“You’re a good man, Sam. This one’s on me, though.” 

Bucky often imagined the cusp at which his life changed trajectory. The moments he spent suspended in the air. The cold shards of air melting into a blanket around him as he tore through it. He would try so hard to shut his mind, hear the sounds he would’ve been heard. The slow yet amplified beating of his heart ringing through his ear, the distant shrill sound of the train screeching, Steve’s cry somewhere hidden beneath it. He often timed it… wondering if it was chasing the seconds that passed or if time itself had been chasing him. 

He wondered what he would’ve felt, knowing there wouldn’t have been anyone to catch him, to lie beside him, to go to had he survived this god forsaken fall. Was that what true loneliness felt like? Or was it this? 

There were people around him, plenty of them. All watching him, speaking to him, helping him but he could feel every particle of air that left him clump itself up a build a wall he never found the energy to break through, because who knew when he’d lose them again but Steve… there was no need to say it, he was obviously different. 

While the plan and life chosen were them led them down different paths, they were one in the same, icing the same wounds just in different body, in different places. Just because the start and the middle had been similar, doesn’t mean the ending had to be too. 

“Don’t do anything stupid till I get back.” 

The words came to him wrapped in nostalgia, the sight of a smaller Steve standing tall before him flashing through his head. Bucky couldn’t help but smile. Counting the seconds with each beat in his chest. 

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” 

It was a pre-rehearsed ritual, words exchanged knowing what came next, the brothers pulling each other into a hug, the air around them suddenly heavy. Bucky searched for more words but nothing came to mind, he was well aware Steve would know them well before he’d say them. At least there was some comfort in that, but it felt taken for granted. 

He stepped back, taking a second, a breath, a pause before Steve words from another lifetime danced on his tongue. 

“Gonna miss you, buddy.” 

“It’s going to be okay, Buck.” 

Bucky could feel the pluck and pull of the threads wrapped around his heart, the feeling of them snapping witch each step Steve took away from him, the faint grooves from it etched within his chest, lingering reminder of a relationship that once existed in a life not quite his own anymore. A ghost of a touch that refused to fade, one that he prayed never did despite the dull ache that now resided there.

Steve paused for a moment before he stepped on the platform, a smile on his lips but his eyes coloured with a sincerity only Bucky would understand. 

“I’ll tell her you kept your word.” 

***

TBH I don't have much to say... this was a WIP for such a long time and I suddenly had inspo to finish it. Hope you like it.