( There's a puff of breath through his nose at going back; something hard but perhaps difficult to decipher. If it's anger, if it's hurt, if it's resignation — no tone in an exhale.

Something frustrated and complex rolls through his chest like the tide, and he doesn't immediately know who it's directed at. Maybe both of them. He's not saying he changed his mind, but I've already got back what I was missing is too close to the implication for Bucky's comfort. )

That's exactly what I didn't want to happen.

( He says finally, his tone tired and gritty-raspy like sand.

Another two or three seconds of standing there, eyes closed, connected and pretending like that momentary comfort somehow erases all the baggage he's carrying. It doesn't, and he reluctantly pulls away so he can turn and face Steve proper.

Imploringly: )

You're gonna go have a family, Steve. You get it, that... thing, that shot, that happy ending. That's not something people like us usually get. I didn't wanna talk about it because I don't wanna be what takes that away from you. I still don't. I want you to go back. I'm just...

( Slow shake of his head.

Dealing with it.

Grieving.

Turns out it's weird to grieve somebody who happens to be across the room. )