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Chapter 43

One Year Since the Snap

Dear Bucky,

This feels strange.

Today marks one year since that day in Wakanda. There are memorials being held all over the world, but I can't face any. My therapist says that it's okay – sorry, my 'Court Mandated Grief Specialist' says that it's okay. Strangely enough, there's a worldwide shortage of qualified therapists at the moment. She's been assigned as part of my pardon, I have to check in at least once a month, but she's nice. She's the one who suggested I write to you. I suppose it's worth a shot, there are only so many songs to cry to, after all, I might as well try this. It's just taken a while for me to find the courage.

Sorry, you would have written to me before now.

So here I am, and I don't know what to say Bucky. I'm not here to find closure, because I think on some level, I don't want it. I don't want to close the book on you.

I miss you.

Is that a good enough start? I miss you. So badly it hurts. Those words aren't enough. I can't physically quantify how much I miss you. I miss your voice. I miss your warmth. I miss your arms around me and the way you would tell me that everything is going to be fine. I miss the way I'd believe you. I don't believe anyone else when they say it. I don't think I am fine.

I still love you, with every bone in my body. With every shred of my being, I love you, Bucky Barnes. I told you that once in a letter you never got to read, now I'm doing it again.

It took me the longest time to realise that those were the last words we said to one another. It felt like some sick cosmic joke when I realised, because that's the kind of shit that happens in movies. Maybe on some level we knew. Maybe we were just saying it because it was true. It still is true, I love you. I'm glad we said it.

So, what would I say to you if you were still here?

You've missed a shitty year, Bucky. We couldn't fix this thing, and now we've just had to keep pressing on. The world went to hell. The people who were left behind could barely handle it, processing everything we lost. There was everything you would expect, riots, looting. Everything that happens when people panic, and then it all just kind of... Stopped. Like everyone realised there was no point. Half of the world was gone. And it wasn't fair. If it was, families wouldn't have been divided the way they were. People wouldn't have been left so utterly alone. Kids wouldn't have been taken whilst people on their deathbeds were left.

If it was fair, you wouldn't be gone. You deserved all the time in the world.

Or I would be with you, wherever you are. That wouldn't have been so bad.

But Steve says I'm not allowed to think like that. The people who thought like that didn't make it through this first year.

So, I'll write about something else.