He's my life, my love, my soul, my home

Chapter 2

It's been about three weeks since all the Avengers moved into the tower. They became friends pretty quickly, which was great for Steve because all of their voices blocked out some of the noise. Plus it's nice having friends, being cared about and having someone to talk to instead of stewing in his room. Plus, Bucky would be proud. Bucky would be happy he made friends and was starting to get a life back and move on. Bucky would be patting him on his back, ruffling his hair saying 'I knew you had it in you, pal, you got this and-'

But Bucky wasn't here to pat him on the back. Bucky wasn't here to ruffle his hair. Bucky wasn't here to hold him, or comfort him, or kiss him, and whisper I love you, I love you, I love-

Bucky wasn't here to do anything. Bucky wasn't here anymore. Bucky was gone. Bucky was, he was- he's-

And nope, Steve's not going to continue that thought. Bucky wouldn't want him to. The last time he did he got stuck in the noise, the loud and un-removable noise that was filled with frantic guilt-filled voices (that sounded remarkably like his own), bloodcurdling screams (and Steve can only hear Bucky's), gunshots, explosions, betrayed yells of Bucky, more Bucky, and Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, Bucky-

In his dreams, it's better. Not peaceful by any means, but better than he would have expected. And of course, his dreams are of Bucky. It's always something good, a memory or an imagined time of a life they could've had. At least it starts that way. Then it's of Bucky somehow dying, (saving Steve cause that's all he seems to be able to do), and him watching helplessly because what was he supposed to do? There was nothing to do but listen to Bucky's comforting words as he took his last breath, (which wasn't that odd, a dying man comforting his lover in his own time of need) and cried as the man disappeared from his sights. At least in his dreams, he didn't imagine Bucky hating him, accusing him of killing him, at least in his dreams he was loved.

He sighed, this was not how he wanted to spend his Saturday. He wanted to talk to his friends, maybe spar with Natasha or Thor. He could talk to Thor, (who quickly became one of his three closest friends) or maybe he could go to Clint's floor and watch and an episode of Supernatural with him and play with Lucky. He and Natasha could talk about the changes in the future. Tony (and okay he's no longer Stark, which is great) is a good friend to talk to and challenge, even if he's sometimes reminded of the past. Bruce is comforting and calm, there when Steve needs to calm down or just focus on something else besides the noise and static in his head.

He turned on the tv instead. Leaving his apartment seems like too much today. He watches whatever is on the and as it turns out, it's a World War II documentary. Steve cursed softly but watched it anyway might as well see what the general public thought of the war. Who knows, might even be fun. Steve learned it wasn't actually that bad, but the narrator had switched from showing battle footage of the regular soldiers to the soldiers of the 107th infantry; specifically the Howling Commandos. He instantly went tense and started shaking as he watched footage of their battles. His mind replayed those memories vividly and he lost track of time. The tv had become nothing more than a small voice until it disappeared completely. The noise and static were back and this time no background noise brought him out of it.

Suddenly his living room transformed from the really expensive looking furniture from the twenty-first century to the trenches of a European forest. The gunshots were loud, bombs overhead and hitting the ground sounding extremely loud in ears. Screams were heard and he could only guess that it was of the dying soldiers from the group that Colonel Phillips assigned them to work with. He turned to look at his team and counted all of them besides one, the most important one, Bucky. He shot out the trench at lightning speed, barely dodging bullets and screaming Bucky's name, frantically searching all over. "Bucky! Bucky! BUCKY! BUCKY," his voice was louder than the gunshots and he barely noticed when a bullet hit his shoulder. "BUCK-," the rest of his sentence was suddenly cut off by a hand over his mouth and someone pulling him back. The smoke clouded his vision but he didn't need to see to be able to fight the guy off, he was a super soldier after all. But this guy seemed to have a good grip on him and was able to hold him down.