If Bucky were being really honest, he’s jealous of how at ease with himself that his mirror is. He moves and speaks as if there’s nothing holding him back, no weight on his shoulders, and Bucky wants that for himself. Though, he’d only want it if he didn’t lose what little bit of him that was good. He doesn’t want the people who already like him to meet his mirror and like them more.

“He could hurt you.”

Which is something he has in common with his mirror, but he’d never do it on purpose or by choice.

“I don’t know how you could.”

Bucky doesn’t spend a lot of time looking in mirrors, especially not now that he knows what’s on the other side, but he’s seen the dark circles, the scars. He glances down at the hand on his shoulder, and then he leans forward, gripping Mettaton’s elbows and helping him to stand up.

“But thank you.”