Bucky has gotten used to Steve almost dying every other day. Most days, Steve courts death into dark alleys and empty parking lots. Most days, Bucky almost loses his voice screaming at the stupid punk. Most days, their fights end with them in each other’s arms, every inch of them pressed against each other because at least you’re alive and I’d never leave you.
So when he glances at his faded numbers under the pale moon light, he doesn’t think much of it. He just closes his eyes and wills himself to a state of rest. They are coming back tomorrow for more volunteers. Bucky refuses to consider the reasoning behind the disappearances of the previous volunteers.
He can’t die here.
Steve needs him.
He promised Steve he’ll come back home. He’ll die keeping his promise.