Re: Steve and Bucky
No wonder Steve's reaction had been a lot more intense than others he'd encountered throughout the week, if they'd been friends that long. It was hard to imagine time stretching back that far, even having a childhood, his own memory so spotty and limited. "I don't remember," James confirmed, having to look away guiltily.
"I don't remember anything, please don't take it personally," he worried at his bottom lip, trying to remember what Wan had told him just that morning. About people not being upset at him but the circumstances. "I don't know what I lost, ya know? So it's hard to... miss it," he tried to explain, folding his arm across his chest a bit protectively. He wished he had more to offer than that, felt like the worst friend to have.
Sneaking a glance up at the other boy through dark lashes, he wondered what it was like to be friends with somebody like Steve, who seemed so great. It was easy to imagine that somebody like Steve was popular, had many friends to choose from. He didn't need anybody broken like him, he'd find replacements easily. James forced himself to look away again, finding it difficult to swallow past the lump in his throat.
This was what he feared. Having to face somebody who knew him, only to completely disappoint them with how different he was. For them to discover that he was nothing like what they used to like anymore, and grow to hate and resent him instead. "Look, I'm. I'm messed up, okay? Whoever your friend Bucky was, I'm not him."