A/N: Ok so this was hard to write, I have a lot of things to do with school and everything. I did some research for writing (to make sure I wasn't writing any bullshit about Trauma and Mental Health). Also, it's my first time writing for Bucky so please be kind with me. If there's any constructive criticism you would like to make, my inbox is open!

This was written for the writing challenge of the wonderful @sunandmoonbucky!

This was written from the song in the media

Warning : Ptsd , anxiety and death

Bucky does his best, trying to pretend What he doesn't talk about won't matter in the end

He stood in the kitchen, silently sipping on his cup of coffee and trying to act like nothing happened, like he didn't wake up in sweat beside you, like he didn't just have the same horrible nightmare as every night. Because if he kept pretending, you wouldn't be worried, your pretty smile wouldn't morph into a frown and maybe just maybe, the pretending will start to be real ... Because if he ignores it, it probably never happened ... Right?

Bucky made it home but thinks it wasn't fair
How he made it out but left his buddy there

You didn't know much about his past, you only knew the few things Bucky told you. But , what you knew was that the cemetery you were visiting was the one the one that held his teammate's tomb, the one were the Howling Commando's laid in for eternal rest.

He was in front of you, silent and stoic but his face betrayed what he really felt, it betrayed the sadness and the loss of what could've been if only Hydra hadn't got him that day when he felt from the train. Without saying a word, you gently circle him, laying your head against his back. There's no need for words right now and if you wanted to, you wouldn't know what to say. The unfairness of the situation was too strong for both him and you.

Bucky doesn't sleep because the nightmares come

Even out of Hydra's hold on him, even with you at his side, Bucky was never free from the nightmares. They'll start as soon as he slipped into Morpheus arms. Tonight wasn't any different from usual. He would wake up sweating, panting, shaking and crying. You would wake up to , only to find him in this state, the same as almost every night. So you did like you always did when something like that happened: You gently sat in front of him , cupping his face between your hands and started speaking slowly, doing breathing exercise with him before speaking words of reassurance and love. And like every time, he would try to go back to sleep, holding you tightly against him, as if you were the only thing that could keep him from sinking too far.

I stand here helpless, my arms extended
Knowing full well, darling, your war's not ended

You wanted to help him, you really did. But you were clueless, how could you know anything he had been trough? You never knew nor war nor trauma as deep as him. Sure, you had your own problem, everyone has their own problem but they would never reach what he was going trough. So you did what you could to help him reconstruct, you went to therapy with him , you studied and talked to people on how to be there for him. At the end, even if it came with a lot of work and sometime trouble, you would still stand there for him to come back every time he felt the need to. You would always welcome him home.

"Welcome home my love"