The sight of the living room should be familiar to him. The photographs of you and him on the wall, on top of his office table, and everywhere in the apartment should be familiar to him. If he was Bucky, he could spend hours just looking at the pictures–thanking whoever was up there for giving him a second chance in life. His thoughts were interrupted by the front door being opened.

"Bucky? I'm home!" You said, entering the apartment with grocery bags, immediately spotting him sitting down on the couch–facing the television. "God, the snow outside is wild." You continued, putting down the groceries on the table. Bucky was still on the couch, unresponsive to your comments.

It was a quiet night, too quiet for your liking. Usually, he'd greet you every time you got back from work, smothering you with kisses. But there he was, sitting still on the couch. You walked closer to him, being concerned with the quietness of your lover. Then it hit you.

The stark difference between your Bucky and the Winter Soldier was obvious, due to you being with him for quite some time. This was not your Bucky sitting down on the couch, it was the Winter Soldier. Something had triggered him to go back to his old state and you could hear your heart breaking over the situation.

But you loved him, you loved every single part about him.

The Winter Soldier looked up at you, knowing that you already knew that it wasn't your bubbly and snarky Bucky in front of you. He waited for you to react as the snow continues to pour outside.