In that instant, he saw the look in Bucky's eyes clearly.
Usually, Bucky carried a lingering wariness and melancholy, exhaustion tucked into his features. Even his smiles were mostly faint and distant.
But now, Bucky had shed all his defenses and burdens.
His eyes were lowered, fixed on the game screen. Though he held a "weapon" and was still "fighting," his expression was gentle and peaceful. There were no shadows in his eyes, no struggle, only a faint yet unmistakably genuine nostalgia.
He was remembering those old days, thick with gun smoke yet full of sincerity and passion. He missed the way they had charged side by side, fearless, and those simplest of years that belonged to the Howling Commandos, to him and Steve.
The noisy crowd seemed to blur into the background, none of the bustle around him reaching his heart. Immersed in memories that were his alone, he used a game's recreation to look back tenderly on his youth.
Even though his memories were fragmented and his soul utterly exhausted, his body had remembered those most precious days earlier and held on to them more firmly.
Time had worn away his memories, and suffering had carved him full of scars.
But after all these years and all those twists and turns, his Bucky had never changed.
The round ended, and a victory notification popped up on the screen.
The children gathered in front immediately let out a little cheer, tilting their faces up at him with admiration and anticipation.
Bucky looked up, the corners of his lips curving almost imperceptibly as he handed over the cartoon plush he had just won.
Clutching the "Sergeant Barnes" plush, the child thanked him over and over before skipping back to the parents watching nearby. But the child stayed, eager to watch