[ Sam gives a soft hum of agreement. It's an important distinction. Makes his throat go dry, because... yeah. This, right here - it's real. And it comforts Sam as much as it pulls the floor right out from under his feet, because... yeah, this is real. And the reality is that he missed three months of that, just like he missed five years before. And in those five years that went by like the blink of an eye from his perspective, in between crumbling to dust and being reassambled by the atom in a Wakandan thicket, he'd lost so much. Lost former team mates and friends, lost his way, lost his understanding of the world and lost what little of his own life had remained in the wake of two years on the run.
Sam's eyes are fixed on a point just over Bucky's shoulder. He feels like his head's slowly lifting upwards, leaving behind the weight of a body that for all he knows is crumbling to dust and washing down the drain. The sound of running water is the sound of distant, rolling thunder. ]
... Buck.
[ His fingers are numb like they're crumbling away, and there's a strange pull inside of him, the same not-quite-right tugging he felt just before losing time yet again. His mouth is full of cotton.
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cw: panic, dissociation
Sam's eyes are fixed on a point just over Bucky's shoulder. He feels like his head's slowly lifting upwards, leaving behind the weight of a body that for all he knows is crumbling to dust and washing down the drain. The sound of running water is the sound of distant, rolling thunder. ]
... Buck.
[ His fingers are numb like they're crumbling away, and there's a strange pull inside of him, the same not-quite-right tugging he felt just before losing time yet again. His mouth is full of cotton.
This is real. So why doesn't it feel that way? ]