War Wounds You Can't Reach • Stucky

WWYCR: 0.1: chapter one

a/n: hello, i hope you enjoy this fic, i really hope you enjoy it. i'm going to throw my all into it? okay? i really hope you like it. also if you wanna see some other fandoms i'm in, check my bio and i've more than likely written at least one fic for some of them, if not, i'm going to eventually.

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third person: all the way through.

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steve woke up on the wool couch in the small hut by the river, his eyes squinting as the rising sun fell through the windows, coming into the living room. the oceans that were his eyes woke, like the flowers budding ever so quickly int he springtime when they woke up late, determined to become leaves. only steve was early. he hadn't been able to sleep well, and didn't want to go home until he knew all was well.

it wasn't, not at all.

after bucky barnes, his best friend, a person he'd loved for ninety years got taken into the soul stone, he hasn't been the same. like the earth if it were a millimeter off axis, the whole thing was messed up. an E-Flat, instead of an E during a melody. steve looked up to the painted ceilings of buck's hut. white, with a wooden roof. standing perfectly upright. modern, but not at all.

steve sat up, his back sore from sleeping the wrong way. he grunted at he action, taking off the soft blanket and folding it neatly, week three started today. he put the blanket in the hall closet, putting on his jacket, and going outside, to the barn.

the barn was rusted, red hues covering up a silver steal. the smell of goats filled his nose, something he wasn't used to. like smelling lemons in a forest. wagon wheels running over his hear constantly, waiting was something he'd never be able to get over. he learned that a long time ago. maybe even while he was asleep.

he took to the goat stalls, grabbing his friend's milking stool and some gloves, walking in and sitting down. he took the udders and started to tug them softly, filling the bucket rather quickly from his efficiency. steve went back to the barn door, taking the goat food and filling the buckets in the three goat stalls. just as bucky would've done. he loved the goats, they probably kept him company when steve was in new york.

steve took the filled bucket and found an empty milk jug, pouring it inside and taking it back to the hut, throwing his jacket on the coat hooks. atop his friend's umbrella. left untouched for god only knows how long. three weeks, at least.

steve's hands trembled at the thought of his best friend being dead in the grave in a different universe somewhere, not being able to see the body before it decayed. a tear rolled down his cheek at the terrifying thought, nuking the milk as the microwave beeped into proportion with time himself. steve took it out, and went into the cabinet. he found the cereal tony dropped off yesterday, forgetting that he'd be visiting this morning.

steve groaned to himself at the thought.

steve poured the cereal into a bowl, then poured himself a glass of fresh goat milk, which wasn't as bad as anyone would expect it to be. he sat down at the table for two by himself with a spoon, mourning over his possibly dead friend. the colors of navy flooded through him constantly. nothing he could do. the doorbell rang; something to do.

"it's open tony!" steve yelled, the door creaked open like frogs in the sunrise. he shut the door behind him, putting his jacket on the hanger.

"you should really lock the door steve, you all people would know better." he insisted, steve grunted and took a bite of cereal. tony was taking peter's absence better than steve by a long shot, but still torn to the pieces of the ashes that fell to the ground as the universe took them as it's own. it'd never be the same again.