The weight of Steve's hand comes as a surprise, but Bucky makes no attempt to move. Since Natasha disappeared back into the world, he can't think of the last time anyone's touched him in any capacity outside of a handshake. It's jarring, now, for its familiarity, something Steve's done countless of times before during the War, his memories of those experiences fresher than they have been in years.

He scrubs his face with the back of his flesh and blood hand when he realizes his cheeks are wet, sniffing once to reign back in the worst of the emotion. Crying about it's a waste of time, and while his body might demand for the release, he doesn't want to give in, doesn't want another loss of control, however minor in comparison.

"I'm sorry," he says eventually, because he has to say it. Steve has to know. "For... everything."