Bucky isn't particularly shy either, with contact, but these days Steve seems to reach for him more than the reverse. Somehow it feels different, when Steve does it, like things will actually be okay, and he won't have to struggle forever, trapped by all the burdens that still weigh on him. It's the only real comfort has, a reminder that he isn't really as alone as he feels, even if maybe that's what he deserves.

Stiff at first, gradually he sinks into Steve's hold, sighing in attempt to rid himself of the discomfort that's built up in his chest.

The words Steve offers to fill the blank don't sound any better, coming from him. It's not accusation that there's anything inherently wrong, being someone important to Steve. But it still sounds like it, even if it's more about how there's no one else, and he has nothing else to really rely on, no one who's patient enough or conscious enough to be patient enough.

To the suggestion of moving out, Bucky flinches, draws back from the hug sharply as his gaze flicks to Steve's face, response immediately, "No—" How can he even suggest that? What was the point of fighting to keep him if the end result was just to abandon him again?

"You. That's not." He huffs, the hurt and frustration gripping his throat, and Bucky sinks in his seat. "You'd want that?"