'Till the End of Time - Bucky Barnes x OC - Eng.

Eleven

A/N: Song recommendation: Benno Goodman - Memories of you

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Bucky had stayed with his sister for a few more hours. She had told him about everything that had happened in her life and showed pictures of their family.

He had a niece and a nephew and they had children too - he has a family that is alive.

As he made his way home it was already dark outside, frost settling everywhere and glistening in the glow of the lanterns.

Once home, he turned up some 1940s music, grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the kitchen, and sat down on the fire escape with the box Becca had given him.

Before he opened the box again he let his eyes glide over the Brooklyn skyline he saw from the ladder.

He didn't know if he was ready for all the memories to come flooding back.

He never thought he would see all the things that were in that box again, he thought they were rotting in a landfill somewhere.

With his fingertips he stroked over the name Rose written in sharpie. He took another big gulp from his glass filled with the smoky, woody whiskey before removing the lid.

He worked his way through letter after letter, taking in every sentence he read that was written by Rose. For that moment, it briefly felt like she was still here. Her letters were written with an attention to detail.

Her curved, delicate handwriting often did not match the statements she had written down. Each letter was covered with hearts drawn by her and on many you could find a lipstick imprint of her lips.

Even though decades had passed, the letters still smelled of her - of the perfume Bucky had given her for Christmas - Chanel N°5.

Chanel N°5.
At that time probably one of the most sought-after fragrances on the market. It smelled floral-powdery but the base note of sandalwood gave the otherwise almost girly fragrance that extra something.

No matter how many of the letters he read, each ended with the same words.

"I love you Buckster, until the end of time. Your Rose."

The memories of this time played like a movie in front of his inner eye, there was not a day when he did not miss her.

Often he even found himself wishing that she would have gone to the ice, too, just so he could have her here with him. Every time he had this train of thought, a guilty conscience would immediately arise in him.
As nice as the thought was in the first moment, he himself was not so selfish that he would accept that Rose had to suffer the same trauma as he did, just so he wouldn't have to feel alone now.

In the box were also many sketches and finished drawings that he himself had drawn at that time.

He flipped through each of them, except for this one.

It showed a young woman lying in bed. You could hardly see her face because her hair was lying across it. You could only see her full lips and a few freckles spread across her face. From her pose and overall appearance, one could conclude that the woman in the picture was sleeping.

Bucky could still remember exactly that day.

It was July 05, 1939, the night before they had celebrated Rose and Steve's 21st birthday.
The private party they had went on until the wee hours of the morning, until Rose could no longer stand on her own two feet and Bucky put her to bed. The following morning he was awake before her and he watched her sleep until he decided to draw her.