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Summary
Bucky’s dreams are the best part of his day. Worth the fatigue, the distraction, the monotony of day to day.
They’re terrifying, and they’re beautiful, but they’re real, real to Bucky, and he feels real inside of them —he feels terror and joy, sorrow, arousal, all the things he doesn’t, can’t feel during the day. When he wakes, they slip away slowly, leaving vague impressions, and he’s woken up more than once with a hollow feeling under his chest, a feeling of something missing. Those feelings — those are the ones that linger, the feeling that there’s something just out of sight, that someone should be right beside him.
A story where lost things become found.