(pppfffff haaaaha #soakedsupersoldiers)
"Yeah– the public library is huge," Steve smiled, remembering how overwhelmed he'd felt walking onto the marble floors with a towering ceiling above, "There are just– so many books, enough for a hundred lifetimes."
(yuuussss perfect haha!)
Bucky nodded a little. "You always did like to read." he remembered aloud, glancing over at Steve for a moment.
Steve's smile twitched at Bucky's comment, his shy gaze landing on the path in front of them. "Yeah," He said with a growing smile, "I liked– like to read, sometimes."
Bucky nodded slightly. "Yeah. I remember that now." he remembered seeing Steve curled up on chairs with books in his lap.
"You– liked it when I'd read to you. Sometimes we'd read together, though you read faster than I do–" Steve said with a smiling hesitancy, remembering the one day they'd read the second half of a book together, and how Bucky had shed a few tears at the end, even though he'd had to tell him who all the characters were when they'd started. "…And you always interrupted to yell at the characters, but, still."
Bucky's mouth twisted up into a faint smile. "Oh. I…don't remember that." he said slowly, wishing he could.
"…That's okay." Steve said with a quiet nod, smiling at the odd stripes and faded dots of sunshine on the ground, spots of warm white on slabs of gray. "It wasn't that important, anyway. You'll remember other things as time goes on."
Bucky nodded slightly. "Yeah." he agreed softly, running his flesh hand through his hair.
"Yeah," Steve echoed quietly, tilting his head to the side in thought. "And…who knows? Maybe talking about some memories in therapy might help too."
"I'm not going to therapy." Bucky replied immediately. "Well, I am, but not for me." For you. To listen.
"No, I know, I know." Steve said with the slightest sarcasm, "But uh, you never know. You'll never know if you don't try."
He shrugged. "I don't want therapy." He replied slowly. "I really don't."
"Neither do I," Steve said, trying not to think about the days and nights where too many thoughts ran through his mind, "But I know that it might help, even if there's no guarantee."
"Yeah. Maybe. But I'm still not going." he replied, shaking his head stubbornly and looking around the park. I don't know…I don't want a therapist telling me what's wrong. I know what's wrong. I know that my head's fucked up and I'm fucked up. I don't need a stranger telling me that too.
Steve sighed in quiet defeat, burying his hands in his pockets. How can I get him to reconsider? Will being there with me change his mind? "Well, at least you'll see what it's like," Steve said with the tiniest hope.
"Yeah. I guess I will." he replied with a faint little smile. He shook his head slightly, and took a deep breath.
"Mhm," Steve nodded, trying not to show too much of his hope towards him taking the next step in helping himself, "I think– I just think once you're there, you'll see that it's not that bad."
(when should they fall in?)
Bucky smiled a little bit. "Maybe. We'll see." he replied, shaking his head again and putting his hands in his pockets. He didn't think he would change his mind.
(idk, any time is fine. ?what if one of em point out like 'hey your shoes' untied' and 'just leave it' and they try to dodge a biker zooming by or sumthn ~)
"Yeah, I guess we will," Steve agreed, quietly realizing that they'd branched further off and into the park.
(hmm that might work yeah)
Bucky kept walking quietly, looking around. Long brown hair drifted into his face, and he tucked it back behind his ear absently.
(?sure, unless you've got any other ideas~)
Steve took a long breath, softly smiling at a little pile of leaves drifting against the curb, a little swirl borne from a gentle wind. The quiet hum of traffic could still be heard, even in the presence of the secluded path they walked through, pairing with the subtle scrape of their shoes against the cement.
(I don't lol)
Bucky glanced over at Steve for a moment, then away again. He didn't know what to say. He wanted to say something, but he didn't know what. He really had no idea.
Steve squinted at the blurry sight of something in the far distance; blurry movement further down the path, which would soon taper off into something like a street corner or another open square. He glanced at a leaf drifting from the garss onto the path, following it as it fell close to their feet.
“Buck, your shoelaces are coming undone,” He pointed out.
Bucky blinked. "Huh? Oh." He crouched, working on fixing his shoelaces. His brown hair fell into his face, and he took a moment to push it back.
Steve waited for Bucky to finish tying up his laces, studying the towering trees that bordered the path, their leaves gently rustling above them in a swaying dance.