Steve's Diary

November 28, 1935

Dearest Diary,

It's been forever. Really, it has.

Why? Who knows.

Okay, I might know. It's Bucky. Actually, it's more so what happened with Bucky rather than he, himself.

It's just odd to me... odd because I've never felt so torn in my whole life.

My brain, being so rational (and annoying as hell sometimes) tells me no. No, don't do it. You can't think of him like that. It's not right. That simply cannot happen again.

How I want to listen to it.

Then there's my heart... or, rather, my dick. It tells me go. Don't stop. You've found him, now go get him and never, ever let go. It tells me, quite plainly, fuck it. Do whatever the hell you want... or, let him do whatever the hell he wants to you.

How I want to listen to it.

It's like I'm contradicting myself here. I feel like a hypocrite. It's a whirlwind of confusion, really, it is.

I ask myself what to do because if I don't I'll lose him. Now, the real question is: do I want him as a friend or do I want him as something more than that?

Let me ask you this. Have you ever craved someone so much that you... didn't exist anymore?

No? Well, I have.

And it's eating me up inside. It's killing me.

I want him to do what he did to me over and over again. I want him in so many ways but I just- I really feel like I shouldn't.

I know it's wrong, to want another man.

I know I shouldn't want him like that. I know I shouldn't want him to feel the same way about me as I do about him. I know I shouldn't think about him all the time. I know I shouldn't daydream about our fleeting kisses, the lust always looming around us or about the things we have yet to do (and how eager I am to try them).

But I do.

All of this is flying through my head all the time and I can't seem to shake it.

I'm wondering if I should give up, or if I should just give in.

—————

"Happy Thanksgiving, Steve," he said, walking through my front door and giving me a hug.

This year, though, the hug was different. Different than the usual 'hey it's great to see you' holiday hug. It was more of a 'hey, nice to see you again... catch you later *wink*' kind of hug.

No one noticed, but that hug was incredibly difficult to last through. My limbs felt like they were being torn apart from the want to grab him and kiss him and touch him and... well. Whereas the other half of me said please please please stop getting hard. It's just a hug.

But I couldn't.

Luckily, I wore black pants because it was going to be a long night.

• • •

It was nice, all of us sitting around the little wooden table together. My mom's turkey was great this year but Mr. Barnes' mashed potatoes had to be my favorite, even though I didn't eat very much anyway.

He sat next to me at the table. Across from us were my mom and next to her, his dad. An empty seat where my dad would have sat was filled by Bucky's younger sister Rebecca and the other where his mom would have sat was left empty.

The air filled with cranberry sauce and turkey and mashed potatoes, not to mention the pecan and apple pies for desert.

Half way through the dinner, however, I felt something odd. In looking down I saw Bucky's hand on my knee. Oh shit. What do I do?

Nothing. So I continued eating as normal, however, it started moving closer and closer and closer until... well, until he was there.

I reached my hand down quickly and placed it on top of his as a way of saying stop. Stop this, now. But I ended up only encouraging him to stay there. I was getting hard... I couldn't stop myself.

I looked up at him, begging for mercy in my own round about way. His eyes met mine. "Don't look at me like that," he whispered. Everyone else was so busy talking that they didn't even hear what we were saying to one another, never mind actually see what was happening.

My mouth opened like I was going to say something, but nothing came out.

Shit. I bit my tongue. I nearly flat out moaned at the dinner table.

At least Bucky found it amusing...

His hand started moving and applying pressure down and... I closed my eyes. Think, Steve. Think.

Got it. "May I be excused? I have to use the restroom?" I asked politely. Everyone looked up at me and away from their conversations. Everyone stopped talking.

My mom waited a second, staring at me blankly. Bucky looked at me too and slowly moved his hand away. "Sure, honey. Go on then," she finally said.

"Thanks," I added. I looked down to see I was quite obviously showing through my pants. Great. I stood and held my napkin up, so as to hide myself. Then I quickly put it down and spun around, heading up the stairs to the bathroom.

I shut the door behind me and leaned up against it. In closing my eyes, I slid down to the floor and let my head fall into my hands.

My mind wandered back to him. His hands on me. His lips on mine. His little whispers in my ear and hot breath on my cheek. God, this wasn't helping. Think about something - anything - else.

Eventually, after God knows how long, I stood and walked out of the bathroom boner-less. Thank the lord.

They all watched me walk down the stairs, especially Bucky. His eyes wandered up and down my body and I couldn't bear to imagine what he was thinking, so I looked away.

I sat down and they were back at their normal chit chat. I didn't get involved in anything other than eating my food because it was just to unbearable to think right now.

—————

Bucky didn't touch me for the rest of the dinner. Didn't look at or talk to me, either.

I know he wasn't mad or upset but, I just felt like this may be for the best.

This is too much for me. Not only are these emotions new and almost alarming, but they're illegal.

And I don't know how long it'll be before I break.

~ S. Grant Rogers

P.S.

On the upside, Mom finally forgave Bucky for sneaking me out of the house... so that's, uh, good...