video

[wipedclean]

[He probably should have done this as text. But he started the video, and he doesn't feel like changing it now.

Bucky's hunched over, clearly sitting in the middle of his apartment floor, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled over his head, his hair hanging in his face. He's curled in on himself, and his eyes are red-rimmed.

He looks awful.]

Steve is gone. I. I looked everywhere. For days. But he's gone.

[Angrily, he pulls his sleeve across his eyes and shakes his head.]

I can't... I don't... I don't know what to do without him.

[He sinks in on himself.]

I can't stay here. But there's no way out. What am I supposed to do?

Comments

[wipedclean]

I don't know how to stop.

[He's never felt like this before.

Not that he can remember, anyway.]

[benumbing]

Try doing something else in its place. Cook. Play chess. Jog.

[wipedclean]

[He frowns. Chess... sparks a memory. He feels like he would know how to play, if presented with it.]

Do you have a chess board?

[benumbing]

I can make one. It shouldn't be too hard.

[wipedclean]

[He thinks about this.]

Do you play? Would you... play with me if we had one?

[benumbing]

It's been some time since I last played. You would be good practice.

[wipedclean]

[He snorts softly.]

I don't remember playing. I just... know I did.

[So they're both rusty.]

[benumbing]

Let's see whose past self was a better player.

[wipedclean]

[He smiles faintly.]

Alright.