& * withoutwar​

               A SIMPLE GRASP ! delicate yet not frail   ;   petals still blooming, curled inwards as if scared to blossom. his fingers            HIS ! a symbol of freedom, war, and peace, tangle loosely, granting an option to DISENGAGE            //   when had he ever been such a choice before? it’s left unsaid, the undeniable yet foreign notion that he   (   my name is bucky !    )   can decide for himself. steve always makes sure his say is his own.

                                                 //   ‘   YOU CAN ALWAYS SAY NO, BUCK.   ‘

tired, worn, wary. his hand            flesh and blood and nothing akin to the inhuman monstrosity, the atrocious weapon reminiscent of nails through palms          grasps back tenderly   ;   a willow bending heed to the will of growth. (   RISE YOU TATTERED ROSE ! IGNORE THE THORNS DRAWING CRIMSON ACROSS YOUR LIPS !   )   

he fits palm to palm, touch warm and jarring to a man so used to cold, cold, cold, cold                      !!

                               they sit, quiet. his lips don’t move.  //   ‘    THANKS, STEVIE.   ‘   //   they don’t have to.