winter rose

"You should be in charge of opening the cans, isn't it good to have a division of labor and cooperation?"

Before she finished speaking, she bent over and ate the plum on the spoon.

He followed her movements and saw that he was holding a spoon and a can of fruit in his arms.

"I already oiled you up, what happened after you ate a spoonful of plums..."

The tone was quite aggrieved. "It's almost rusty, and your brain is also fast."

rust

He looked up at her, and the subtle feeling that had appeared many times resurfaced again.

is ржавчина

She was wearing a black Hydra battle suit, as was she.He wanted to stand up awkwardly, but she grabbed his shoulder.

The strength is not great, but the attitude cannot be refused.

"The lip balm is strawberry, and now I'm plum."

His breath hit his face, carrying an unbearable, damp sultry heat.

His eyes moved.

But she didn't make the next move.

Silence becomes a kind of inverse speechlessness.And for the first time, he felt that waiting was really difficult.

She curled the corner of her mouth.

"What are you waiting for?"

Yes, what are you waiting for.

In the meaningless wandering, what is the purpose?

Or maybe the word meaning itself has no meaning.

"Are you going to give me chocolate?" She reminded aloud.

Following her gaze, the can in her hand turned into a box of exquisitely packaged chocolates at some point.

The words on the box seem familiar...

please

"you……"

"Are you going to send me off, Bucky?" She said in a very serious tone. "If you give it to me this time, I will definitely accept it in person. There is no need for one more Pushkin's poem, oh no, no, one more is fine. I will accept it, I will accept it all!"

She spoke faster and faster.

"Are you going to see me off, Bucky?"

There was confusion in his eyes.

"No...you're not." She smiled wryly. "You don't have thoughts, so you don't have emotions. Soldier, where is your desire... Or—"

She paused.

"—Desiring this kind of thing is meaningless to you at all?"

"What is the meaning of meaning itself?"

A voice inside the body asked.

But he still couldn't help thinking about the word she said.

Whether he can have his own desire as a person.

No, this question is still too difficult for me now.

longing, желание

Too difficult and too far away.

"So..." When she looked up at him again, the corners of her eyes were slightly red.

"talk later."

A slight sigh at the end of the sentence.

The scene is pulled away, and the world is flipped and transformed.

In the square in the early morning, pigeons are flying.

Pure white feathers, red beak.

Everything is a cool color, the world is wrapped in a deserted gray-blue,

Only one point is red.

The shopping bag in his hand tapped his calf with the swing of his body, and he walked step by step towards the old woman selling flowers by the bench.

Wearing a black sweater hood, she was squatting in front of a flower bucket, staring at the bouquet of flowers obsessively.

"I want roses, red ones."

By accident, he bought the bouquet of flowers.

The old flower seller quoted the price in Romanian and said, "Your girlfriend is very pretty."

And she took the flowers and turned to wait for him to translate.

The curvature of the corner of her mouth seemed to indicate that she could understand the meaning of that sentence, but a certain fragment in her memory was ignorant.

"Thank you for the birthday present."

She smiled sweetly.

"Is this your... birthday?"

"I said yes, but who cares about the specific day?" She curled her lips indifferently.

"Happy birthday to me, soldier. That's an order."

"Happy birthday, doctor."

The instructions conveyed from the deepest part of his fragmented mind made him subconsciously obey.

But the woman who heard what she wanted didn't seem happy.

The arc of her smile seemed to stiffen on her face.

"It doesn't work, does it?"

"what?"

"It's nothing." She casually threw the flowers she bought on the bench and sat down on it herself.

Then suddenly a smile of enlightenment came out.

"I see."

She excitedly waved her hand to signal him to sit over, and just as she touched the chair, she couldn't wait to hug his arm.

As far as he could see, the black glove was still on his left hand.

He didn't dare to take it off and take a look, as if the answer was obvious.

There was a sense of loss in my heart for no reason.

"This is... your fourth... Yes, this is yours, not mine." She seemed to be talking to herself.

"So it's the most... ah, I see!"

The kisses fell like raindrops, and the very purposeful move made him slightly staggered away.

"One question, one answer," she said. "Guess?"

"What are you going to do and why-"

"That's not it."

"—why am I here. Where is this?"

"Not this one either." She looked a little pissed, like that answer was the most important thing.

Her attitude made him a little displeased, and he raised his hand to pinch her shoulder.

"What the hell are you going to do?"

"Let go." Her face turned cold as fast as she could see. "I said let go."

"Give me an answer first—"

"I said let go!" She wanted to break his hand, but his left hand held her wrists directly.

It made her bones creak.

Her facial features were distorted in pain, but she didn't make a cry.

"If this is my memory, then you must be destroying it."

Disgust, palpable disgust.

She froze for a moment.

"[-], the year of your birth."

один one

девять nine

семнадцать seventeen

He looked up sharply at her.

"They've broken the words down really well."

Bright yellow light slipped away from her waist little by little.She wiped away tears and smiled.

He took back the hand holding her shoulder a little bit.

"I don't even know Russian, it's too complicated."

"Feel sorry……"

"I don't know why, although it's disgust, I feel panic...I'm actually afraid that you hate me...Bucky."

She lowered her eyes and seemed to have returned to a state of talking to herself.

"One question, one answer."

When he looked up again, there was a kind of determination in his eyes.

She stood up staggeringly, and the red rose on the bench was swept to the ground by her indifferently.

"Without the slightest delay, I will set you free."

"Sorry, I'm not—"

"I will do what I say, sir."

The world began to twist again, and she fell backward with her arms outstretched.

It was an endless abyss.

[One question, one answer. 】

Sirens with enchanting voices pluck the strings amidst the sound of the tide.

"I can see ghosts."

She jumped off the window sill and walked in front of her.The eyes are indifferent, and the smile on the corner of the mouth reveals a hypocrisy.

"I can see all ghosts that will appear before me."

This is a not-so-big apartment. There are baking trays, vegetables and fruits on the kitchen counter, exuding a comfortable daily atmosphere.

But her expression was out of tune.

"Do you know how much I've seen?" she asked herself, interrupting his apology.

"There was their wailing at every moment in the Tower of London. Every night at the front I saw the bloody dead soldiers. They surrounded me, complaining to me, saying they didn't want to die, I just want to be alive. I'm pretending nothing happened, but I'm actually terrified of dying... Do you know how many years it's been since I've seen a ghost?"

She gestured.

"70 years, a full 70 years."

She hooked her lips into a smile and added the second half of the sentence.

"Until I meet you again."

"The people I want to meet who have died and left me have never appeared again, even in the form of ghosts. I know that they don't want to disturb my normal life, so even if they are... I really want to see me."

She gave a sob and laughed and cried.

"Since I met you again, I've been surrounded by the people you killed again. But even so, I want to be with you even though I'm scared to death. But I didn't expect that you have such, hate I."

"Do you remember Howard Stark?"

A name involves many memories.

"I've seen everyone you've killed! You remember all of them, too! But I haven't seen Howard!"

"I'd rather Howard came to me and blamed me! But he didn't!"

"Bucky Barnes."

The faint light on her body continued to dim.

"It never occurred to me that among all the people I love, the one who loves me the least is you."

A kind of blackness gradually condensed in the green eyes, and the tears soaked in it could not dilute half of it.

"A question, sir, the meaning of existence in what capacity."

Her legs went limp, and she fell to her knees directly.

He reached out to help her, but was pushed away.

"One answer, about you, not about me."

"Guess, that's all the hints I can give you."

The world began to spin, and the scene in front of me was like a dream bubble.

It shattered at the slightest touch.

He has an apology, which has been said countless times.

Sorry is invalid.

She knew it, and now he knew it too.

The north wind swept through the snow particles and cut through the exposed skin of the person.

Siberia is terribly cold in winter.

In the distance, there is the sound of a train dragging its horn and slowly approaching.

The snow fell on her black hair, and when she turned around, the woman with green eyes and red lips showed desolation in her eyes.

It's the kind of desolation that can only happen after countless hours.

Many days, those lonely years waiting to suffer are not a big dream.

They are real experiences.

"Soldier."

The train stops in front of you.

"With this train, you can go home."

It's you, not us.

The author has something to say:

Really what kind of song you listen to as bgm and what kind of text you write

[A dream in the world is in a trance, shadowy and indistinct, the world of mortals is three thousand feet away]

[Dream with the king in the dream, the fallen flowers have become hailstorm]

The Chinese bgm writes comprehensive English and American, which is amazing for myself