It had been probably just over a month since Bucky had gotten to Preya, then again for all he'd known it had been more. He'd been out of his own head at the beginning, because he'd not only been there when he'd died but he remembered everything that happened. He remembered the feeling of everything fading away from him, the helpless sensation in all of his limbs, he remembered feeling himself crumble away into dust, remembered seeing Steve's face when he walked towards him and crumbled before he could hit the ground.
Steve?
Since then, Bucky had gained his footing a little. The Hydra-related nightmares now held Thanos-related nightmares as well, and he'd only been sleeping sporadically, sneaking in the odd hour or two to keep himself awake during the days. It wasn't a way to live, but he was really only just hanging on.
But Steve was here. And if Steve had felt surprised and shocked at the idea of Bucky messaging him... Bucky had actually felt like hitting something. It was like a cruel joke, it had to be a cruel kind of twisted sort of sense of humour, someone's idea of being funny, of twisting the screws in just a little further, right? Because Steve... he'd know if Steve was here, wouldn't he?
Funny thing was, he had known. As soon as he'd seen Steve make that first post he'd felt his heart leap up to his throat, he had felt like he couldn't breath, he'd felt almost like he was crumbling away into nothing again, that strange breathless sensation like he was about to be carried away by the wind.
He was desperate, clinging to hope, even if it was false, even if this was a joke, even if Steve wasn't here and even if it was some sort of mass delusion brought on by the trauma of dying yet again... Bucky was fool enough to cling to it. He needed it to be true.
So he'd wandered over to the fountain, feeling like every movement he made was the hardest movement he'd ever had to make, like he was walking in invisible quicksand, like gravity had turned way up. The air seemed thicker, the people around him seemed to move slower, to be talking in muffled voices.
He hadn't realised he'd been holding his breath until he let it out shakily. Swallowing hard, Bucky continued his journey and froze when he saw the familiar form of Steve Rogers standing next to the fountain. His mind frozen, his subconscious kicked in, moving his stubborn limbs when his mind had stalled, taking a few moments to fully catch up. He was here. Steve was here.
"Steve," Bucky blinked and he was standing right in front of him, taking off his cap and looking at him, hardly able to believe he was still standing. Bucky didn't even hesitate, the stabbing pain of losing his best friend, of the prospect of not being able to see Steve again, to say things that had been unsaid too damn long... it was too much. So words were out and for now Bucky pulled Steve in for a hug, holding him tight, tight enough to hurt a regular person but Steve was Captain America, damnit, he could handle anything Bucky gave him.
"Oh my god." Bucky managed to choke out, trembling just slightly, still amazed he was on his feet. "You're here. You're actually here." It was no mistaking it was Bucky now, he wasn't even bothering to cover up his Vibranium arm, that was the beautiful thing about this place. People didn't care, they didn't stare at him and they didn't look at him like he was a mass murderer, they looked at him like he was human. Bucky continued to cling to Steve like Steve was the only thing keeping him standing, which was probably close to the truth.