[I want to make a pt. 2 but I don't know? Just read this and tell me if I should go for it?]

Bucky remembers being a solider. He remembers being captured with (Y/n). He remembers Steve saving them. He remembers the train. (Y/n) falling. The plan crash. And then waking up.

The memory of (Y/n) falling is still clear in his mind as he drivers his fist into the punching bag, watching it split open and sand pouring over.

"That's the third one this month, Buck," Steve says.

"I know. I'm sorry. I just can't.." Bucky unhook's the bag, tosses it into the black garbage can, and sweeps up the sand.

"It's (Y/n), isn't is."

Bucky doesn't answer as he empties out the dust pan.

Steve sighs and rubs his eyes. "I know how much she meant to you. She was my best friend too."

"We were more then best friends," Bucky throws his gym bag over his shoulder. "Let's go."

"I didn't know," Steve mumbles as the walk back to the apartment. "I always knew you had a thing for her, but never thought.."

"It was on the train," Bucky looks up, squints at the sky. "I said I loved her and she said she loved me," he tugs hard on his jacket. "And then she died. Slipped right through my fingers."

"It's not your fault."

Bucky laughs, hollow and forced. "Yeah, it is. But let's not talk about this. I'm tired."

Steve frowns as Bucky enters the apartment complex, following in after him but stops at the doorway. He turns, eyes searching the buildings behind him.

A figure in the shadows stills, backs away, until it's gone.

Steve doesn't miss the glint of metal winking at him from their left arm.