It was supposed to be a normal a normal mission. Nobody should get hurt. Nobody should die. But then, the comms go quiet. “Bucky?!” No answer.

You find him a few minutes too late. Collapsed. Barely breathing. You drop beside him, sobbing his name. He takes your hand with the last of his strength. You’re holding him in your arms, trying to stop the bleeding with shaking hands. He’s slipping, and he knows it. His eyes lock on yours, not panicked, just full of everything he never said. “I should’ve told you sooner,” he whispers. “It was always you.”

He smiles — soft, broken, blood in his teeth. “Guess I ran out of time.” You shake your head, beg him to stay awake, but he just brushes his fingers down your cheek. “Don’t cry, doll. You gave me more than I ever deserved.”

He tries to make a joke — classic Bucky — but his voice breaks halfway through. “Would’ve made a good husband, huh?” You choke on a sob. He squeezes your hand once. “You would’ve looked so beautiful in white.”

You beg him not to close his eyes. You press your forehead to his and whisper, “I love you.” He breathes out a laugh — weak, but real. “That’s all I needed to hear.”