(Warning for period typical homophobia.)

"Hello darling, sorry about that. Sorry about the bony elbows, sorry we lived here, sorry about the scene at the bottom of the stairwell and how I ruined everything by saying it out loud. Especially that, but I should have known." -Richard Siken.

The apartment was empty, graffiti covering the walls- the same ones that used to have peeling wall paper and marks from stray baseballs and scuffing of shoes.

It no longer held the old, torn up gray couch or the rickety dinner table. The heater's paint was all peeled away now and the window in the bedroom was broken.

It was basically the same now as it had been in 1941, with only a few minor changes.

Including the fact that everywhere Steve turned held a ghost, an imprint of the life he had once lived.

The corner their bed had been shoved against had trash in it now, broken pieces of beer bottles and cigarette butts.

("Jeez Steve," Bucky laughed as he shifted to pull Steve close. "Be careful with those elbows. I swear, they're lethal weapons."

Steve smiled sheepishly as Bucky pulled the blankets tightly around them, "Sorry Bucky.")

He wandered around aimlessly, fingers brushing the walls as he tried to remember why he had thought it would be a good idea to come here.

The kitchen had a new (but still old) oven and the faucet no longer allowed water to drip out of it.

("You sure you're ok Steve? I can stay home today."

"I'm fine Bucky. Go to work, get your paycheck. I'll make supper.")

He pushed open the window that led to the fire escape and looked down. It still looked like it would fall apart at any moment.

("Why are you sitting alone out there, Bucky?"

"I'm just thinking, Steve," he replied, letting out a breath of smoke. "Go back inside, you'll catch your death out here.")

The staircase was mostly the same, only now with paint and graffiti on the old steps.

("When the hell were you going to tell me? Were you even going to tell me?"

"Jesus, Steve. I-"

" No! I'm done with your excuses! Go stay with Connie for the night. I don't want to deal with this right now."

"You're the closest thing I have to a brother, Steve. But I can't do nothing while a war's going on around us!")

Steve sighed as he swept his fingers against the crack in the wall, one that had been made many, many years ago.

("Damnit, Steve! What the hell were you thinking?!"

"I was thinking that I wasn't going to let you die alone, Bucky!"

"I fucking told you, Steve. This isn't some back alley. This is war. You didn't even know if the fucking serum would work!")

He choked down a sob and leaned his head against the wall.

"I'm sorry, Bucky," he whispered, sitting down on the steps. "I'm so sorry."

("Come on, Bucky. Just ignore it."

"Ignore it? How the hell am I suppose to 'ignore it'? You've heard what they're saying about us."

"Look, it doesn't matter-"

"If it goes beyond whispers around the base and Phillips hears about it... do you have any idea what will happened?"

"Buck-"

"You need to leave. Now."

"C'mon, Buck, you know they're not serious."

"Steve. Drop it and get out."

"Bucky..."

"I mean it, Steve. Drop. It.")

Steve sat quietly in the stairwell of their apartment, his head in his hands, and tried to ignore the stinging pain of his guilt.

He had always imagined what would have happened if he finally told him the truth, when he finally worked up the courage to kiss him.

The truth of it was so, so much worse than anything he had imagined.

("Bucky, I- I didn't mean it. Please. I'm sorry."

"Whatever Steve. Let's just forget that this ever happened, ok?"

"Bucky-"

"I mean it Steve. I'm gonna forget about this and you need to do the same.")

"I'm sorry I even thought about saying it, Bucky. I shouldn't have. Shouldn't have done any of it."

("I didn't mean it, Bucky. I'm sorry."

"No, you're not. Look, go find Carter and leave me alone."

"Bucky. Please-"

"No, don't. Look, you made your feelings or whatever perfectly clear. Get out of here."

"Please Bucky-"

"Go away, Steve. I don't want to talk about this.")

"But I guess I should have known better."

("Please Bucky. Can we talk about this?"

"No Steve."

"Bucky-"

"I don't love you, not like that. And you don't love me like that either. It's sick and wrong and you need to leave me alone."

"I-"

"Look, Carter likes you and you like her. Go fall in love or whatever and get over this... thing you have for me."

"I should have listened to you from the start. I'm sorry I ruined everything. I'm so sorry, Bucky."

("Grab my hand!"

"Steve! No!"

"No! No, Bucky! No!")

"I'm sorry I couldn't save you."

"For the record," a voice murmured from behind him. "I never blamed you."

Steve jerked around and looked up with wide eyes. "Bucky?"

I wrote this at 4 am, sorry for any incoherency.