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Bucky knew that frail wasn’t a word that came to mind for people when they looked at him. He wasn’t short, thin, or outwardly sickly. Still, he felt it, frailty. He felt it often since leaving Hydra captivity.
His mind took the brunt of it, his thoughts a tangled mess or a blank slate triggered by the smallest thing or seemingly nothing at all.
Today was a good day so far.
Bucky was sitting on the floor of his studio apartment. He was leaning against his bed staring at three cardboard boxes lined up neatly in front of him.
They had no labels or writing and were sealed with plain clear shipping tape.
Bucky took out his pocket knife then slide the left-most box closer to him. He couldn’t smell the contents and there weren’t any sounds emanating from it so he slowly cut the tape, opened the box and looked inside.
As he took in the neatly ordered items, a comb, some books, a pair of shoes, a deep blue jacket, Bucky felt something akin to nostalgia. He was reminded of a different time, a time when he was a different man with hopes and dreams and troubles that had felt so big but ended up being relatively simple compared to the path his life took. There was sadness and longing but they felt second hand, he mourned for the man who had owned the things in that box but he didn’t really know him anymore.
It was nice to see them though. He wasn’t angry, just resigned. Perhaps another day he’d feel anger, loss, or some other intense emotion but that was a potential problem for another day.
He moved onto the second box and felt himself smile.
There were more books. These were clearly thrift store finds, dogeared and cracked spines. Mostly pulpy science fiction though there were some thrillers in there too. The box also contained candy bars snickers and junior mints. There were a couple of puzzles too, brand new and unopened, one depicted the familiar New York City skyline and the other showed the Grand Canyon.
The last box was full of soft things. There were unopened packs of socks and boxers which Bucky was grateful for. Under the packages were sweatpants and track pants then three sweatshirts, two crewnecks, and a hoodie. They all had a scent, a familiar, comforting scent. Bucky scooped up the hoodie and breathed it in.
He had known before opening the boxes who they were from. There were only so many people who knew where he was and cared enough to do something this kind. Tears welled but didn’t fall. Bucky pulled the hoodie on over his tee and snagged a book and Snickers from the second box then climbed onto his bed spreading out ontop the covers.
Before he started in on his snack he took out his latest notebook from beneath his pillow. It took several minutes to record everything, the way the first box made him feel. The excitement of receiving unexpected yet completely perfect gifs. The growing warmth he gets whenever he thinks of who gave them to him. When he thinks of Steve.
He makes a note. A promise to himself to thank Steve for his continued kindness and to tell him how he feels.
Somedays Bucky feels frail enough to be snapped in half by a stiff breeze.
Other days he is reminded that healing is a journey.
and he’s well on his way.