Bucky's night hadn't gone as differently from Miguel's as most would probably have expected. He'd left the shop before dinnertime but spent a while walking around. He took his time to drop off some extra food to the medbay and his mothers' and sister's apartments, to go to the library and exchange a book he'd finished, stop at one of the shops to get some food he needed for his own apartment.
When all was said and done though, and after he'd made and eaten his dinner it was still early so he thought he'd try to read. To put off the inevitable. The book he'd picked up wasn't anything of substance, some easy-read fantasy thing, but it didn't matter; he couldn't make his eyes focus on the pages. His body wanted sleep as much as he wanted to avoid it. He had half a thought to leave and find one of the gyms so he could hit something around for a while, but it wouldn't work any better.
Eventually, he'd have to give in either way. He started in the bed but ended up on the floor near his couch instead after tossing and turning for as long as he could stand.
His dreams had a tendency to meld his pains and horrors. Drowning, just below the surface of ice and water while he watched the things he'd done as the Soldier. Being filled with the Man's rage while trapped in a cryo chamber, unable to even scream over it. War and battle staining the island of his childhood, Steve, always still small and sickly, or their daughter trapped in the crossfire.
He woke with a start. Sitting up tangled in his blankets and on high alert. When the slight rush of waking had worn off, Bucky buried his hands in his hair and just screamed. Loud and hard and until his throat hurt. But even that wouldn't last, whatever bastardized serum Hydra had given him didn't work as well as Steve's but it did enough.
He got up and went through his morning on auto-pilot and went to the cafe. It was earlier than he usually went, but what was the point of just wasting more time alone in his apartment when at least there he could feel productive. When Miguel got there, the cafe would smell of the coffee he'd brewed for himself and sourdough bread close to being ready to come out of the oven and Bucky would be rolling bagels into shape against a metal countertop.