Steve took the plate with a soft smile, turning to retrieve the few pieces of toast that had popped up. "D'you want any coffee? I can make some," He said, smiling as he placed a piece of toast on Bucky's plate, moving around him to serve them some bacon and scrambled eggs.
Bucky shrugged a little. "Yeah, sure. That sounds good." he repled, giving Steve a faint, slightly uncertain smile.
Steve hummed, smiling a little as he readied the coffee maker. "Never had breakfast like this, back when we were younger," He said, placing a few pieces of bacon on his plate as he thought of the sleepy mornings of cold toast and bland porridge, "Younger-Steve would be a little awestruck."
He chuckled faintly, nodding a little as he grabbed himself some food. "Yeah. I…don't remember much, but…" he shrugged a little.
Steve nodded faintly, glancing over at Bucky with a quick smile. "That's okay," He said, serving himself some scrambled eggs, "Even if it's only a little, you can share the things you remember. It might be good thing."
Bucky nodded faintly, moving to sit down at the breakfast bar. "Yeah." he replied softly.
Steve shrugged, sitting down to his breakfast. He was quiet for a moment, stealing a glance over at Bucky. "You sure you don't wanna talk about it?" Steve cautiously asked, thinking back to his trembling frame at his door, "Because…we can. You don't have to keep it all to yourself."
"I…" He picked up his fork in his right hand, chewing on his lip a little. "I don't know." He finally replied, taking a bite of food so that he had an excuse not to respond.
Steve let out a quiet sigh, nodding in thought as he glanced down at his plate. "It's just…" He started, pausing to think of the right words, "I feel like…there's so much that you're keeping inside. And I'm not doing enough."
Bucky looked up at him, biting his lip. "No– Steve, I…" he trailed off, thinking. "It's…it's not your fault, I swear. I'm just…I don't know."
"You're just…" Steve started, shrugging a little as he met his gaze, "You're just keeping it all inside." He thought of all his attempts at suggesting therapy, and all the times Bucky refused. "I can see it in your eyes; all the time, and the way you were last night," He bit his lip for a moment, finding it hard to put into words how much he wished things could be different, "Bucky…I want you to get better."
Bucky looked down at his hands for a moment. "I'm just, uhm…I…" He shook his head a little bit. "I can't."
Steve softly frowned, looking over at bucky and his downcast glance. "What do you mean 'you can't?" He quietly asked, letting out a breath, "You're still in pain, and you're not doing anything about it. But you can try."
"I…can't talk about it, Steve. I…" He shook his head a little, taking a bite of food even though he couldn't hardly taste it right now.
"But you can," Steve softly urged, poking at his eggs with his fork and silently wondering how much there was for him to keep hidden, "It'll hurt; and it'll be hard, but you gotta at least try. I'm here, remember? And we've always worked through stuff together."
He closed his eyes. "Steve, I…" he shook his head again, swallowing for a moment. He didn't want to tell Steve. He didn't want to see the way the other man's face would change as he spoke.
Steve bit his lip, casting a worried glance over at Bucky. "What is it?" He asked, turning to face him and quietly noting that it was hard to tell what he was thinking; nothing like how it used to be, "You can tell me, remember? We tell— told each other everything."
Bucky shook his head again, taking a sip of his coffee. He didn't want to have to say it. Didn't want to tell Steve all the things that had happened, because if he started talking, what if he couldn't stop? What if all the horrors he had seen and done and experienced just came pouring out?
"Bucky?" Steve softly asked, wearing the faintest of frowns as he gazed at him. The man before him was almost foreign now; cold and so hard to read. Even when Bucky was trembling with fear he seemed more like himself, rather than the near emotionless facade that he wore now. "Talk to me, Buck. Please."
"I can't, Steve." he said. "I…I don't want to." he closed his eyes for a moment, letting a few strands of hair fall into his eyes.
"Why not?" Steve said, even quieter than the last time he spoke. He was so silently worried, carrying a pleading look of sincerity as he gazed at him, "It hurts to see you hurting, Buck. Why won't you try? For me?"
He shook his head a little. "Steve…" he trailed off, rubbing his face with his flesh hand, not looking at the blond arcoss from him.
"Bucky…" Steve replied, looking at him with a knowing look. It was in times like these where he really wished things were different, that they might be in another world, or another time; happier and together at the breakfast bar, smiling at each other instead of arguing about getting help.
He shook his head a little bit. "No. I can't. I don't…please don't make me." He said softly, pushing his plate away, appetite gone.
"Bucky, I want you to get better," Steve said in quiet desperation. There were so many vacant stares, so many simple replies and idle conversations that had pained him to see from Bucky, and all he felt he could do now was to beg, beg for him to find a way out of the numbness that surrounded him. "Please, I care about you," He said, his hand inching towards Bucky's, "Talk to me."