The man with the gloves [bucky barnes ff]

18

'Please don't spill, please don't spill, please don't spill' I beg as I run to the subway with a hot cup of coffee in my hand. I usually don't mind waiting for the next one but I have to rush home to accept a package. I would have been here earlier if my professor didn't ask me to stay after lecture.

I really thought he'd criticise my assignment since I did it last-minute and didn't put much effort into it but quite the opposite happened. He complimented my work and told me to keep up with it. Then he asked me how I am adjusting so far to New York and college. At first I was kind of surprised of why he'd be so emerged in my private life but turns out he is close friends with my high school teacher Mr. Florentine. Apparently he had mentioned me when they talked on the phone a couple of days ago, praising me to the skies. Admittedly, it was kind of embarrassing but I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't also proud.

Hearing your ex high school teacher talk so highly of you and then getting praised by your professor? I know it's stupid but I like getting validation from authority figures. It helps motivating me.

Once I catch the subway, I am more than happy to find an empty seat. This barely happens, especially at this time of the day. After catching my breath I take a sip from my coffee and take my phone out.

I will be here for around twenty minutes, might as well take care of a couple of important things. After my talk with James last night, I felt really guilty for not calling my family more often, particularly when my mother even sent me a care package (the one I am rushing home for). Mom is probably at work so I decide to give my dad a call. I am pretty sure he's at work, too, but his boss isn't as strict as my mom's when it comes to this kind of stuff.

I dial his number and impatiently wait for him to pick up. After only a few seconds a raspy voice speaks into my hair.

"Hello?"

God, I missed his voice so much. I didn't realise it until I heard it now. "Hey, dad."

"Wait, who's? It couldn't possibly be my nineteen year old daughter who hasn't called in forever, could it?" He teases me, making me laugh.

"You're so mean." I state. "I literally texted you two days ago."

"Texting someone doesn't compare to hearing their voice."

"Sorry, I feel bad already. I was busy with adjusting to college and living on my own and all that, so I haven't been able to check up on you guys. I'm really sorry." I mean it. Guilt consumed me even more after James told me that his parents were dead. It made me realise that I might be one blow of fate away to end up just like him.

"Don't worry, honey, I am just messing with you. You know me. However, how is New York treating you?" He asks me. I take a look around. Couples making out, a guy in a bear costume (what the hell?) and another lady yelling into her phone, not caring that she's surrounded by a bunch of people.

"Great. The city is... you know, different from Asheville, obviously. But in a good way." I immediately clarify. "Living alone is what stressed me out more. It's a lot harder than I thought. Taking care of the household, cooking, cleaning my laundry. I barely have time anymore." Don't get me wrong. I did help out a lot at home but helping your mother here and then with the laundry or cleaning the windows and living all by yourself are two different pairs of shoes.

"You're one of the smartest people I know. You'll figure it out. It's perfectly normal to feel a bit overwhelmed at first but just remember that this is your dream. You're living in your dream city and go to your dream college. Enjoy it a bit." He advises. I know he's right but I can't help but to stress over it anyway. I have this exhausting need to do everything perfectly, not allowing myself to slack or make mistakes.