[The Red Coast. Bucky's never heard of a place like it, but Shiro's mental image of scarlet waves reminds him a little of an afternoon, once upon a time, in Brooklyn. The memory flickers, details lost at the edges, but a familiar face sits beside him, just like this. They kick their legs on a brick wall, the river beneath them burned red with the sunset.
The contact on his shoulder is telegraphed long out, but Bucky still flinches. It's okay. It's alright. Shiro is a friend.
He forces himself to relax.]
(Where'd the desert go?) [Because the last thing he remembers is being told to return to camp.]
no subject
The contact on his shoulder is telegraphed long out, but Bucky still flinches. It's okay. It's alright. Shiro is a friend.
He forces himself to relax.]
( Where'd the desert go? ) [Because the last thing he remembers is being told to return to camp.]