Bucky was always pushed away from social events. No one wanted a murder around them. He had trouble fitting in, even with Steve lately. Steve seemed to have move on. Bucky wasn't the same, and his best friend figured that out by now. They weren't the same dudes who went to science conventions together, without a worry in the world. He was full of regret. Confusion. Yet Steve couldn't help. Steve Rogers, a hero to America had nothing to be sorry for. He was a savior. A hero. That was the most honorable thing to be. Even among other heros, Steve seemed to be a focal point. Bucky was the white crayon in the crayon box. Only used occasionally, usually for darker papers. Steve, and the others were the vibrant blues, and greens that dazzled chilren, and could make anything more beautiful. A burst of color in the chaotic mess that was the world. He wasn't mad at Steve. Bucky was beyond proud of what Steve has became. It was what he became that he resented. He was dark, constantly feeling emoty, or to full. There was no stop. No way to redeem himself, and fill that void with hope. There couldn't be hope in something you didn't beileve in. He couldn't rely on Steve forever. One day, he could just disappear. Maybe he would be used as a weapond, like Bucky. Maybe he would die. Maybe Steve Rogers could learn to hate his best friend since forever. Bucky couldn't handle any of those options. He couldn't handle the darkness. Though he may have done some horrible things, he relys on Steve's light to keep him alive. Steve had changed as well though. He wasn't in need of saving. He wasn't in need of support from Bucky on crazy dangerous missions, that Bucky would yell at him for later. Bucky had truely became useless, and he hated it. The headache started. The pain, anxiety and regret had rose. This time, he decided, he wasn't going to make someone catch him. He allowed himself, to finally fall into the darkness