Without meaning to or perhaps because it was necessary, they were sharing the deep-seeded pain that had become their live with each other. What they had suffered through was horrible and crippling, yet both of them had survived it and thrived as best as they could under its weight, and it didn't seem any lighter now that both sides of it was spread across them both. It was the same amount of pain, yet it was also different between the pair of them, and he recognized that his suffering was no less than Steve's. That was interesting to consider as he settled into the other man's arms more.

The pain was no less, but the idea that someone understood the scope of his agony and how it affected him took an edge off of him that he hadn't known existed. There was safety and a level of trust in knowing that someone else was weighted with the same kind of pain. The idea that their bond was built both on that and their resilience not to be crushed by their agony was a bitter one.

He skirted his hands around the side of Steve's back and then up so that he could gently grip the blond's shoulders and lean his head in to rest it under Steve's chin. "We... understand what it is to be alone," he said softly. "And what it's like to lose Bucky Barnes. He's... never coming back, Steve. Not the man from the train. You have to... tolerate whatever it left of him for now. I think... I'm sorry that you bonded to what's left of him."