Bucky’s heart is pounding out of his chest as he walks up to Yori’s apartment entrance. He hesitates, inhaling deeply. Lifting his hand to the door, he knocks.
Yori opens it, face lighting up at the sight of Bucky on his doorstep.
“What are you doing here?”
Bucky can’t look at him.
“It’s late, come in before someone calls the cops.” Yori beckons him inside.
Bucky nods, stepping in as Yori closes the door behind him. His heart squeezes violently when he sees the small shrine Yori has put up in memory of his son.
“What are you doing here? It’s not Wednesday.” Yori says, puttering around as Bucky stands, unsure.
“I have to tell you something. About your son.”
Yori’s face tightens. “Come sit.”
Bucky takes a seat across from him, slowly removing the glove concealing his metal hand.
“He was murdered.”
Yori stiffens. “What?”
Bucky avoids his eyes, twisting the glove in his hands. “By the winter soldier.” He blinks quickly, swallowing back the tears. He shouldn’t be crying, it wasn’t his son that was brutally murdered without reason. “And that was me.”
There is a silence, and Bucky can’t lift his head up from where it hangs in shame. He can see it in his mind's eye: Yori’s devastated face, his shaky hands, his quiet voice saying ‘Get. Out.’
Bucky jumps back at the hand that places itself on his shoulder.
Yori’s face is streaked with tears, but the malice that Bucky expected in his eyes was nowhere to be found.
“Thank you for telling me.” Yori smiles shakily. “I am at peace now.”
Bucky’s brows furrow. “But- I don’t understand. I killed your son.” His voice drops down to a whisper. “You should hate me.”
Something flickers over Yori’s face. Anger? Distress? Bucky isn’t sure, but the look is gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a soft, sad expression.
“I’m so sorry that you have had to live with the belief that this is your fault.” Yori begins.
Bucky’s gaze drops back down to his lap.
“Whether or not I was in control, it was my hands that did it.”
Yori shakes his head. “Do you think I don’t know what you went through? It’s all on the internet.” Yori smiles.
Despite himself, Bucky chuckles. “Everything’s on the internet now. Thanks Nat.” He looks up and makes a little gesture of thanks towards the ceiling. His face sobers quickly, however.
“I understand if you don’t want to see me again. It’s probably a shock, learning who I am.”
Yori gives him a look. “Do you think I am stupid? I knew who you were the second I met you. What, you think a glove is going to hide your face?”
Bucky’s eyes widen. “What?”
“Like I said, I knew what happened to you. You are not a killer. The Soldier was, and the Soldier is gone.”
Bucky’s resolve wobbles. A teardrop falls down onto the glove that he had so reluctantly removed.
“Oh my friend.” Yori squeezes his shoulder before letting go. “The world has a lot to atone for, but you? You have nothing.”
Bucky sits there for the rest of the evening, quiet sobs wracking his body. He finally feels free, freer than he had ever felt before.
Later, him and Yori go together to Izzys, and if Bucky manages a smile or two at the cute waitress, nobody has to know.