a constant war between remembering and forgetting.
Steve reaches out and grabs Bucky’s arm. Stops him from running away like a coward and Steve’s never thought Bucky a coward before. The thought leaves a sick, metallic taste in his mouth. “Bucky, can we at least talk about this? I can—I can help—”
“No, Steve, you can’t,” Bucky says. He pulls away.
“Buck, wait,” Steve says desperately, but it doesn’t change a goddamn thing.