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

Chapter 3

This day used to be happy. It used to be filled with warm laughter, Mrs. Barnes cooking, cake, gifts, and smiles. That was then, Steve learned. Now, Now was some much different. Now, he was alone instead of with his best friend. Now, there was no cake, no gifts, and no smiles to be given, because the person who is supposed to have them isn't there. There was nothing but the empty hole in his heart that seemed to get bigger when he woke up and realized that Bucky was dead.

Bucky was dead and even though it was seventy years later it was only two months ago for Steve. Bucky was dead and forever twenty-seven. He didn't even make it to his twenty-eighth birthday a few months later. Steve remembered that Bucky loved birthdays. He said it was the celebration of life and getting together with the people you'd want to spend your life with. He always seemed to have a big deep meaning for the simple things that Steve overlooked. Now, he gets it. There is no life to celebrate if the birthday boy himself is dead.

Steve remembered having a big plan too. The Commandos were almost done with the war and Steve was gonna take Bucky to the Grand Canyon once they got back. Bucky always wanted to see it and Steve wanted to do something nice for him for once instead of the other way around. Giving and receiving one of Steve's drawings about a happy memory that they made that year had to be getting old. In the war it was good but he was ready to change things up. If only he didn't fall...

Steve closed his eyes and rolled over on the bed. It would just be a normal day. A normal, Bucky-less day. He didn't think he was up to hanging out with the Avengers and he didn't think Bucky would mind. Bucky let him grieve on his parent's birthday. He didn't let Steve forget his Ma even though Bucky didn't like her. Bucky would probably be touched that Steve remembered his birthday and was taking this day to grieve him. Somehow, in the confusion of everything happening so fast the voice in his head, Bucky's voice, because only Bucky could tell Steve what to do and he would listen, was a normal part of his life now.

His voice drowned out Steve's nightmares, his voice that calmed him down. His voice that gave him direction when he was confused and his voice was a friend when he needed something familiar. It wasn't the same as actually having Bucky here (it would never be the same); the voice was made up to comfort Steve in his times of need and was obviously fake but he'll take what he can get. No sense in complaining when he was grateful that he could remember Bucky's voice perfectly well.

He sighed. That voice was strangely quiet and Steve needed direction at that moment. He didn't know how to go about a day like March 10th without being with Bucky in some sort of way. He actually didn't know how to go through any day without Bucky. The Avengers helped. He was calm enough to talk about Bucky around them when they asked or let them into his suite without his permission. Other days he would stare at an interesting spot on the wall for hours on end. The Avengers knew not to bother him then.

He felt as though he was a failure of a friend. He couldn't even be happy on Bucky's birthday. He didn't even know that there were tears in his eyes before he was sobbing uncontrollably into his sheets until he felt a hand touch his back. "Hey Cap, you alright?" Clint had come into his room for some reason. He'll have to ask later. For now, he'll try to calm down and remember the life of the past. "Cap, come on buddy, get up. What's got you crying this mornin'? You only just woke up. It wasn't a nightmare was it?" His voice was calm and the hand on his back was supposed to be grounding but he didn't think that it would work for this situation. "Cap come on, Talk to me here." He mumbled something probably inaudible in the pillow a few minutes later. He still sniffled and tears were still coming out of his eyes but not as much as before. "What? You're gonna have to speak up, can't hear you."

Steve rolled over and sat up on the bed. He pulled his legs up to his chest and looked over at the mirror. His eyes were puffy and red and he had tear tracks on his slightly flushed cheeks. His hair was messy and from sleep and his shirt was wet from crying on that and his pillow. He was an absolute mess.