Work Text:
A part of him is missing.
He collects everything he can, fragments of memories. They’re jagged; shards of glass that don’t click together like puzzle pieces would. He thinks he’s gathered the most important parts yet whatever shape they used to hold is still impossible to discern.
Something’s missing.
He can almost sense it if he doesn’t think too hard, the vacancy aching like a phantom limb.
At night it has a voice, a smell, a touch. But in the light of day that wholeness is just a distant dream, washed out, scattered recollections clambering to obscure the bigger picture.
It’s not until Steve finds him, falls to his knees, arms outstretched, it’s not until Bucky folds into them, strong arms holding him with unspeakable tenderness that it clicks into place.
He’d been going about it all wrong.
He was rebuilding a shadow without light, a day without night. The void he was trying to fill was never meant for him alone.
He fit here, in the negative space between Steve’s arms and by his side.
He’d been trying to fill an emptiness meant for two. The hollow parts that haunted him had just been a holding place for Steve.