Drawing Lessons

Honest To God Terror

Bucky had never really been afraid. He'd never had much of a reason to. When there was a crisis or a moment of panic, Bucky was always the one who stayed calm and saved the day. He never had trouble in social situations, never failed tests or forgot to do his homework or got into fights or anything, really.

It was on a Friday, after fifth hour pre-calculus. His friends, not Steve, but a couple kids from the track team were walking with him in the hall. There was a conversation he was only half listening to because he was almost to Steve's locker and he could see the thin, arty kid's blonde hair from a mile away.

"Bucky?" One of his friends asked him, calling him back to the reality of being a fairly well-known kid in a crowded hallway.

"What- yeah?" Bucky responded, glancing away from Steve and back to those walking with him.

"Why do you keep zoning off like that?" He was asked.

"Sorry, I just see my friend over there. I'm gonna go say hi..." he trailed off and started walking away, toward Steve. By the time Steve looked up and smiled at him, Bucky was already flustered but happy. He could feel that happy, fluttery butterfly feeling all over him.

"Hey," Steve said, smiling, "Don't you have a class to go to or something?"

"Maybe, but I've got time." Bucky responded, smiling the smile of someone with a secret, "I wanted to give you something."

"Ah- What?" Steve stumbled over his words, surprised and awkward, never any good at receiving gifts. But Bucky was already crouched over his backpack, excitedly unzipping it and pulling something out, grinning wildly the whole time. His grin was contagious, and Steve was smiling, too.

When he stood up again, he held in his hand a pristine set of graphite drawing pencils encased in a smooth, undented tin. For a second, Steve didn't know what to do or how to respond.

"I know you lost yours awhile ago 'cause they got stolen from you by some unnamed tormentor, so I saved up just a little bit to get you these, because honestly whoever did that was just so mean. Later we can try them out, but, ah, I have to get to class now, so, I'll see you later." Bucky gently touched Steve's shoulder as he strode away.

"Thanks!" Steve called out after him, and Bucky could hear the dumbfounded smile in Steve's voice.

When Bucky walked back to his friends, who were waiting for him across the hall, he had a dopey grin slopped lazily across his face. Everything was going phenomenally. He couldn't wait to see Steve after school and draw with him and hang out. He was really proud of himself for that gift. Gift-giving wasn't usually a talent Bucky possessed, but whenever he did give someone something, it felt amazing.

"Bucky, who was that you were talking to?" One of his friends asked him. Something about the tone of his voice made all the hairs on Bucky's neck prickle.

"His name's Steve." Bucky replied. He saw his buddies look at each other. "What?" Bucky asked, defensive already.

"You know about him, right?" One of them asked Bucky.

"What about him?" Bucky asked, feeling sweat begin to form in his pores. He was on edge, fight-or-flight ready to kick in at any moment, though he wasn't really sure why.

"He's a fucking pansie, that's what." One of them sneered, and "sneer" is the only way to describe it. If this were a Western movie, the kid would have spit in the dust. Bucky stiffened, not knowing what was to come and, for the first time in his life, wanting to go hid in the bathroom for hours until these feelings went away. He knew where this conversation was going to go, and he wasn't ready for it. His life had been like a fairytale since Steve walked into him, and he wasn't ready for it to shatter in the middle of this school hallway.

"What?" Bucky breathed as his numb legs continued to walk blindly forward.

"You know, he's a-"

That's when it happened. That word. That word with so much pain and hatred etched into it. That word that he had avoided and tried his very best not to think about. He had decidedly ignored people who used that word in the past because there was nothing he could do about it and he didn't want to hear it. He'd never been this up-close-and-personal with such a word, and he was unprepared. It stopped him dead in his tracks.

Bucky shut down. His heart stopped. His breathing stopped. His legs kept moving but he couldn't feel them holding him up, as if the floor had fallen out beneath him. He had a million things that he wanted to say but his brain was fuzzy and his mouth was sewn shut. He had never been in a situation like this before and he didn't know what to do. They were talking about him and they didn't even know it.

And they were talking about Steve. Tiny, artful Steve, who had swept in without too much grace and with a lot of cute awkwardness and completely lit up Bucky's whole world.

There was so much more to Steve than that detestable three-letter word, and Bucky wanted to tell them this, but he couldn't. His mouth didn't work. He couldn't look them in the eye. His hands were shaking and he couldn't breathe and this had never happened to him before and he didn't know what to do. He felt like the whole world was caving in on him and he needed to get out of there immediately.

"Oh yeah. It's so obvious. With some of them you can just tell, ya know?" One of them was saying. Bucky's vision was tunneling. They were talking about him and they were talking about Steve and they had used that word and he didn't feel safe. The hallway was emptying out and he could feel his throat catch. He felt sick to his stomach.

"Yeah, but at least they have the decency to be obvious about it. Some of those motherfuckers seem just like ordinary guys. Creepy." The other one spoke. That word just bounced around Bucky's empty head, the same word that had kept him up at night and haunted his nightmares for years. They were talking about him and he knew that if they knew anything at all he would be toast and he didn't know how to act. He couldn't just keep walking, but he was. There he was and it was like watching a car crash in slow-motion.

"Yeah, it's creepy. They could be anyone and we wouldn't even know. They know it's unnatural, that's why they try and hide it." Through the haze he was suddenly swimming in, Bucky heard the words loud and clear, and it was like a knife wound to the gut. The feeling spreading through his bones was like black ink soaking through this page of his life, covering everything until it was all he knew. He didn't feel safe. Didn't know what to do. His words didn't work. His legs didn't work. He couldn't make sense of what was going on and yet he knew. He knew and he was so petrified that he was powerless against it.

"Bucky, you alright? You're white as a sheet." One of them was saying. He lost track of which one the words came from. He couldn't respond. He couldn't feel any of his limbs and he could feel himself fading. This was a panic he had never known before.

"He's probably just freaking out 'cause he didn't know that kid was a-"

And there it was again. That word, that vile word that made James Buchanon Barnes, the school's best runner and most generally well-liked person feel like he were either about to throw up or pass out. The world was already spinning around him, he could feel it. He didn't know what to do or what to say and he couldn't take it. That word sent everything shattering, snapping into broken slivers all around him. He didn't feel safe when that word was spoken.

When he heard that horrid word hit his ears again, his legs finally figured out what to do.

Bucky wasn't fully aware of what was happening as his legs propelled him forward, faster than he'd ever gone before. He wasn't sure where he was headed. He could vaguely hear the track kids' voices from behind, calling after him, but all he could think of was that word. That repulsive word which chased him down the hall, shooting him forward with electric, honest to God terror.