ORIGINAL VERSION

Brooklyn, 1945.

The world was trying to heal. Streets once filled with parades of soldiers coming home now buzzed with the sound of life returning to normal. But for Bucky, nothing had felt normal since the day he left Brooklyn with your name written across his heart.

He had promised. He had whispered it against your hair the night before deployment, holding you so close he thought you would break apart in his arms. ”When I come home, I’ll marry you. No matter what, you’ll be mine.” He had held onto that promise through blood, mud, and nights where he thought he would never see another sunrise.

But when the war ended, you were gone. Your apartment was empty. No letters. No trace. Every step he took in Brooklyn felt like chasing the ghost of the girl he loved. He asked everyone, even Steve, if they had seen you. It was like you had vanished.

Three years later, he finally found you.

1948.

Bucky stood on the front steps of a quiet house far from the city, his heart pounding in his chest like it had when he faced enemy fire. His hair was shorter now, his face sharper, older. He carried himself differently, but inside, he still felt like the boy from Brooklyn who had loved you with everything he had.

The door opened.

You stood there.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. You looked different, older too. There was a calmness in your eyes that had not been there before, but when they met his, something unspoken cracked through both of you.

“Bucky,” you breathed, barely more than a whisper.

His jaw tightened as he tried to find his voice. “I found you,” he said, almost like he could not believe it himself. “I looked everywhere for you. For years.”

You hesitated, your hand still on the door, and he noticed the simple ring on your finger. It felt like a punch to the gut, like someone had knocked the breath out of him.

“You… you’re getting married…?” he said quietly, his voice breaking.