Steve thought that the time before Bucky remembered everything would be the worst. The confused glances, the heavy words, the tired eyes, the longing for the suffering to end. But it wasn’t. It was after, when Bucky’s clouded eyes grew bluer and his mouth trembled at the corners, when he finally ripped his eyes off the ground and stared at Steve, not speaking, not breathing. It wasn’t better after that like Steve thought it would be. Bucky was even more confused, even more self-hating, so completely wrapped up in the person he thought he was that he was slowly forgetting the person he really was. There were times that Steve thought it might be getting better, times when he would take a reluctant Bucky to somewhere familiar to remind him how far they’d come, a taste of nostalgia on their tongues as they rolled the taste of sadness off their lips. They’d go to an alley a younger Bucky had saved a younger Steve in or the place where they’d attended one of Tony Stark’s expo’s, standing there breathless with the knowledge of how much everything had changed, but more than that, of how much they’d changed, too. Those times, Steve thought they were making progress. When Bucky would dart his eyes around the place with mild interest, taking in the memories that were too important to forget, a smaller Steve holding the lid of a trash can while staring at him with wide eyes, a memory of Steve’s voice echoing “you’ve taken all the stupid with you” and then Bucky’s own memory of what followed, his light laugh hiding the feeling of dread as he walked away. Steve would watch with alertness, clinging to every expression or slight noise Bucky made. His hope in Bucky might as well have been in his metal arm, so well protected but so easy to be destroyed. Sometimes, Bucky would know that he held Steve’s hope. Sometimes, he would force a smile and try to say something Steve would laugh at, try to temporarily make him forget that it wasn’t like how it was before. Those times, Bucky could see the kid from Brooklyn with his careless grin, looking to the ground and laughing like he used to when Bucky made a joke. But then there were times when Bucky forgot that Steve was dependent on him for hope, and he’d become closed off, not allowing the memories to overwhelm him. Those times, Steve had wondered if it was all worth it. He wondered silently if they weren’t meant for the world they were in, if their time had passed like it would have under different circumstances. Steve wondered what he would have done if Bucky had really died when he fell off that train, wondered if Bucky would have patiently waited for him to die, knowing that they’d see each again other soon. Bucky would wonder, too, if they should both have died when it was their time too, if they weren’t brought back by some sort of miracle, if they would have found for each other on the other side, not tainted like they were now. He wondered what would happen if Steve hadn’t come back, if he was still the Winter Soldier, if he would have ever found a way out. How different their life together would be, if nothing bad had happened.
But those thoughts were dangerous because they would fill their heads with what could have been and made them forget what can be.
Now, Steve was preparing for something he hoped would hit Bucky a little more than the rest. One of his fondest memories was one night, before the war changed it all, when Bucky had come tapping at his window, his eyes alight. Steve had opened his window to Bucky’s delight.
‘What are we doing, Buck?’ Steve had rubbed his tired eyes as he pulled off his pyjama pants and tugged on his jeans. He eyed Bucky’s leather jacket and grabbed one of his better ones from his floor.
‘You’ll see.’ Bucky’s eyes were sparkling as Steve darted out of his room and, hearing the front door unlock, Bucky had jumped down from his awkward position at Steve’s window and ran to the front.
‘C’mon.’ He barley let Steve get a word in before tearing off into the night, Steve following behind, trying to hide his panting. A few minutes of swiping at low tree branches in the dark and Bucky had stopped, standing triumphantly and watching the sky.
‘You don’t get a better view than here.’
Steve had caught up, squinting at the black sky. ‘View for what?’
Bucky had turned to him, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he laughed. ‘Fireworks.’
And Steve recalled, with a sinking feelings in his gut, when the colours exploded in the sky and all he remembered thinking about was how that was nothing compared to how he felt when he looked at Bucky.
Now, Steve was stuffing a blanket into a bag and pulling Bucky off the couch. ‘C’mon, Buck. I got something real special to show you.’
Bucky didn’t say anything, but his eyes said enough. Steve knew it was one of the worse days.
Despite himself, Bucky remembered he was Steve’s anchor. ‘What is it?’ He hated how flat his voice was.
‘You’ll see.’ Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand and led him out of their apartment, down through the lobby and outside. He took a left, aware of the cold biting into his skin and making him shiver. Aware of how Bucky’s hand was making him warm. After a few minutes, they were there. It was a small clearing in the middle of nowhere really, a few people here and there but no-one close.
‘What are we doing, Steve?’
Despite the exasperation in his tone, Steve caught the hint of curiosity. He didn’t answer, just sat down and took out the blanket. Bucky reluctantly sat next to him, his shoulder leaning against Steve’s as he pulled the blanket over to cover him too and looked up to the sky with wide eyes. There was a few minutes of comfortable silence where Steve nudged Bucky slightly and Bucky’s posture loosened and he allowed himself to lean back on his metal arm and tilt his head lightly on Steve’s shoulder.
There was a loud bang and then the dark sky was alight with blue and red, and Steve’s heart pounded against his ribs as he felt Bucky’s jolt. Steve heard a tiny gasp of “oh” slip from Bucky’s mouth and he bit back a smile.
Steve looked down through his lashes to Bucky, whose face was glowing with colours. His eyes were closed and his eyebrows knitted together in concentration.
For a second, Steve thought that he was going back, reliving something he didn’t want to. ‘Buck?’ The note of panic in his voice clashed with the next explosion of red and Steve felt a wave of anxiety roll over him before Bucky spoke, his eyes still closed and head leaning against Steve.
‘It’s okay, Stevie. I’m just trying to remember this moment.’
And then Steve was laughing and there were tears in his eyes and he was confused because he didn’t remember feeling sad. But then Bucky opened his eyes and Steve thought that he might cry too, and he knew that that feeling he had the first time around hadn’t gone anywhere. It had gotten weaker, dulled by everything he had gone through, but then, like vibrant colour bursting through a dark sky, the spark had become bright again. They watched the fireworks in silence until the last one popped, yellow lighting the park up for a second.
Bucky was especially silent on the way home. As they climbed into bed, Steve couldn’t help but remembering that night all that time ago, when the fireworks were over and he was back in his room, laying down but not tired, trying desperately to relive that night. Steve frowned at the haunting thought that maybe that memory wasn’t that special, and maybe Bucky would never remember it.
Later on, when Steve’s eyelids were too heavy to hold open anymore, Bucky spoke in a soft, thoughtful voice.
‘Those kind of moments stay with you forever, right?’
And Steve could only nod and let out a relieved laugh, finally able to breathe again, because Bucky remembered that night, after all.