[If they'd come back from the war, whole and intact, Steve Rogers would still have been twice the man Bucky was, with a frame that finally fit. They'd find a girl each and get apartments on the same block. Take the kids to church together on Sundays, where Steve's boys could teach Bucky's what good manners look like.
Maybe they'd move out of the city, somewhere with a tree dropping leaves in identical back years, and be buried together in the same churchyard, with flowers overlapping each other's graves.
Maybe life would never be so straightforward. These days there's little room for fairytales, but he closes his eyes and listens to Steve speak as though it's a lesson he should remember.]
Who was I?
[He leans a little emphasis on the was. Who he is is too fragmented to begin with.]
no subject
Maybe they'd move out of the city, somewhere with a tree dropping leaves in identical back years, and be buried together in the same churchyard, with flowers overlapping each other's graves.
Maybe life would never be so straightforward. These days there's little room for fairytales, but he closes his eyes and listens to Steve speak as though it's a lesson he should remember.]
Who was I?
[He leans a little emphasis on the was. Who he is is too fragmented to begin with.]