The page was yellowed and torn at the edges from age. It had been folded up and tucked at the bottom of a dusty box of old photos and memorabilia.
As he unfolded it, Bucky wondered if Steve even remembered it was in there.
The first few lines of the letter were half-finished sentences that had been crossed out. Then there was one blank line, followed by a single sentence.
Bucky, I love you.
After a few more blank lines, the writing continued, only now there were spots where the paper had warped and the ink had blurred; places where tears had landed on the page.
I'm sorry Bucky. I should have said something. I shouldn't have been such a coward. Now I suppose it doesn't matter. I was going to give you this letter when we got back from the mission, but only I got back.
They told me that they couldn't even find your body, so I have no grave to visit, no way to leave you this letter.
I'm so sorry.
I loved you.
