TO ALL THE LOVERS, winter soldier.

( PROLOGUE )

‼️TW; mentions of drugs, mentions of suicide.

𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗗 𝗪𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗦' 𝗟𝗜𝗙𝗘 came upside own when Steve Rogers, one of his closest friends told him that his soulmate was dead. He wasn't suprised, no. He was just in a painful denial hole. He didn't want to get up and try to leave, he just wanted to die there, right there. He always knew that this day would come, because Bucky Barnes was a soldier, and the only thing Harold knew about soldiers (since he was not one himself) was that they died in the end.

"Bucky is dead," Steve said to him. Harold knew he wasn't joking. Steve was never the joking one. He knew that Bucky was dead. His Bucky was dead. And for what? A stupid war?

The following days after Steve told him that his soulmate was dead was awful. In other people's eyes anyways. Steve would waste himself on drugs. He would take anything, anything. Just to make the pain go away. Steve would try to stop him when he first saw him, but nothing changed Harold's mind. His Bucky was dead.

Then Steve left him too, in order to save "the great America". Harold never loved America anyways, so it didn't really matter to him when they won the war. All he could think of was loss, loss, loss and loss. He lost his boyfriend, soulmate, mind. What exactly could he loose more?

So in order to keep the last bit of his sanity left, he started to write. He wrote letters to his dead lover and friend. It helped him. It really did.

Then he started to take his life back from the demons inside his head, who told him that he should've just finished it all. It would be quite easy, just two cuts and you're done.

But Bucky, his Bucky wouldn't want that, would he? He wouldn't want him to be with him now that he was gone. Bucky would want Harold to have fun, forget about him.

And so Harold did that.

𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗗 𝗧𝗨𝗖𝗞𝗘𝗥 𝗪𝗔𝗦 creeped out when his brother, Edward brought him the photo. It was a photo of a man, standing next to two other men. It was probably from the 1940's. Two of them was very close, they held hands and had the sides of their heads pressed together as they smiled so brightly that made Harold's stomach twist. The other man was just standing there, a bit awkward but still smiling.

But these were not the reason why the boy was interested in the photo. It was the fact that one of the men was him. But it wasn't, he never lived in the 1940's, did he? He didn't. So Harold slowly shushed his brother who was saying shit like;

"Oh my god, Harry! You never told me that you had a boyfriend," or "Harry look, it's your very-dead-now brother!"

He folded the paper and put it into his pocket, in order to look at it again sometime.