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Epilogue

Two years passed.

Two years of living in Wakanda. Two years of living with the fact that Bucky was truly gone.

It was practically impossible at first. Y/n was an inconsolable wreck for a long time, completely shut out to the rest of the world. However, T'Challa always told him that it was better for him to mourn than to completely shut down, and, as painful as it was, he was right.

It was better to be drowned by the grief than to completely ignore it. The grief was never going to go away. It was something that would linger in his heart until the day he died. But there was a difference between healing and avoiding.

T'Challa, Shuri, and the Dora Milaje were there with y/n through everything. Whether it be talking to each other through a door, going out to get breakfast to make sure that he ate, training, or even designing new tech with Shuri. They were there every step of the way.

The transition back to normality was a tough one, especially because Wakanda had been like a second home to y/n and Bucky. Everywhere he looked, there was a memory of him. But, with T'Challa's help, he learnt to embrace those memories instead of avoiding them. It was like a lingering smile from Bucky, and that smile soon started to appear on y/n.

Between training with T'Challa and the Dora Milaje, y/n worked at one of the many market stalls. He'd taken the time to properly learn how to cook, and he was getting good at it. Yes, it was a lot of hard work, but y/n loved how busy every day was. There'd never be a day where he wouldn't fall asleep with a smile on his face.

Of course, his tradition of telling stories to the village children carried on. They were all so excited to greet him once y/n was ready to start returning to 'normal' life. Telling stories was really hard at first, especially because his favourite part was always the fact that Bucky used to watch with as much interest as the children did. But, he pushed through it. He'd tell his stories no matter what, even if there were tears in his eyes.

Y/n was grateful for everybody. Without the children, village elders, T'Challa, Shuri, and the Dora Milaje, y/n was sure that he'd still be in a deep pit of sorrow. They were the light that kept him together, and he was stronger because of it.

*****

Today was the second anniversary of both Bucky and Natasha's deaths.

It was a raw, rough day. It was last year, and it felt the exact same this year. But, y/n had decided to make it tradition to travel to America and visit their graves.

T'Challa accompanied him for obvious reasons, but he made sure to keep his distance. This was y/n's time to reflect and mourn, and there was no way he was going to impose on that. He still visited his own father's grave, so he knew how important it was.

The first grave that y/n visited was Bucky's. It was a slow, painful walk across the grass to his grave, but there was no way in hell he was going to turn around. He wanted to talk to him, to tell him how well he was doing and what he'd missed. And, except for T'Challa in the distance, y/n had the graveyard to himself. It was nice. He didn't have to worry about anyone recognising him and bugging him on an already rough day.

That was something he hadn't missed about living in America. Everybody recognising him as an 'Avenger' and a 'hero'. They never had any care about what he was doing, they just wanted a photo or an autograph. Hell, y/n used to love taking photos with people. But that was before his life fell apart and he realised that the hero business wasn't really for him anymore.