Words for the wip > sorry, done, trust
i'm back! thank you for the words, friend <3
“I don’t want to march back into your life and expect to pick things up where I let them fall off,” Steve says to the sign across the street for the drugstore there. “I know I’ve damaged a lot of things in my own blind path forward and I’m sorry, Buck, and I want to make it up to you but I’m just so stuck and I don’t know how and every day I wake up and see the closet door with my stupid drawings on it and I wish I could go back so much I nearly throw up from it –”
Bucky’s hand lands on his shoulder. Steve shuts up. “Steve,” Bucky says. “Come on.”
“If you two are done being weird for the time being, we’re going to give them presents out here,” Becca says from the doorway. “Arguing while cuddling. What will you boys think up next?”
Steve does not reply because he doesn’t trust himself to be civil. Peggy looks the same standing in Bucky’s living room as she did the last time he saw her standing in front o Sharon’s old flat. Her hair is immaculately pinned up, yet frames her fact artfully, as though she paid the blustery wind outside to do just the correct amount of damage. Her long overcoat looks like something out of a 40s film star magazine article.
He stands opposite her in his makeshift pajamas, wishing he’d never gotten out of bed or opened the damn door.
i'm editing, come hang out with me?
