Steve's Diary

January 2, 1936

Dear Diary,

I'm worried. Bucky never acts like this.... usually I'm the center of his attention, and I'm not saying that I have to be, but at the New Years gathering he threw this year it was very different.

He was talking to some... dame. I was almost thrown aside as he spoke with her for nearly the whole night.

Now, it's like this again. Lemme show you.

----------

He's been at the couch the whole while. Sarah's out at work again, but he was supposed to be hanging out with me, not the radio.

So, I walked into the living room and shut it off.

"Steve, what the hell?" He asked, furiously.

"You're here to be with me. Maybe, you should follow through with what you said you were gonna do, Buck," I replied. His face, that expressionless sort of shocked look sent daggers through my skin. Shit, I've really done it this time. He's gone.

"You're right, Steve." He stood and walked right past me. No.

"Where you off to?" I asked, innocently in the hopes he'd feel bad.

"I'm off to hang out with you, Steve. Let's go."

"Where?"

"You don't wanna go out?" He sounded disapointed.

"Well, not really... I thought we could just hang here..." I said meekly.

"But we do that every day, Steve. Can't we do something different for once?" I just looked at him, unsure of what to say next. "Alright, alright. We can stay here... Do you wanna listen to the radio then?"

"Uh... yea, sure," I whispered back as he walked back into the room and passed me again. He sat on our couch and patted the spot on his left. I looked at him and let a small smirk fall onto my face. I walked over and sat next to him.

Normally his hand would have landed on my shoulder and pulled me into his chest, but today, he didn't do that.

----------

Something is... off with him. I can't exactly pinpoint it, but it's there. I wish I could figure out what he was thinking, because that would finally be the end of all my worrying.

~ S. Grant Rogers