Steve's Diary

October 15, 1937

Dear Diary,

So it's that time of year again. That day that makes me ball my eyes out... every single time.

It's inevitable, but at least I've got Bucky to help me cope.

—————

I made Bucky sleep over because I didn't wanna wake up alone.

I knew I would wake up early too and that he'd probably be asleep but it made me feel better having his warmth emanate towards me as he sleeps next to me.

I look out the window from the bed (we had slept in my mom's bed because it's bigger for the both of us to sleep in) and it was barely light out. The shades let in a dark orange-yellow color with hints of purple and various shades of blue.

It was too dark to see the clock across the room, so I stayed in bed for a little while, trying to fall asleep again but to no avail.

By the time the sun rose and shined through the window Bucky began to stir awake.

He reached over to me with his eyes closed and intersected with my chest. He gently grabbed my thin white t-shirt and pulled me over to him. I flopped awkwardly onto his chest.

"Mmmmmmornin' Stevie," he whispered groggily.

"Good morning," I replied alertly.

"Been up long?" he asked.

"Uh..." I look at the clock and still can't really see the hands. Based on the light from the sun though, it has to have been at least 1-2 hours that I've been tossing and turning. "No, not that long..." I lied.

"Oh, okay."

"Did you want to get up and have breakfast?" I replied looking up at him.

"Sure, yea," he answered.

We started standing up and heading out. I looked around my moms room in admiration. It's been what seems like forever since I've seen her. God, it hurts me to say that I almost forget what her voice sounds like. I see a picture of us on her dresser... it's one of the only ones here. The only other one is her and my dad but I don't really have much of a sentimental connection to him unfortunately.

I glance at the clock and it's finally visible... it's 7:34. I walk to the bathroom as Bucky is still apparently still half asleep.

I meet him in the kitchen.

"What do you wanna have?" He asked as he walked in, positioning himself at the stove.

"Oh... you don't have to cook, Buck. I can d-"

There's a knock at the door.

I look at him in confusion.

"I'll make eggs, just get the door," he told me. I nodded in acknowledgment and made my way to the door.

I unlocked the door and it swung open towards me. "Hello," I greeted the man.

"Hi, are you..." he read the script handwriting on the front of the mail before him. "Are you Steven Grant Rogers?" He asked.