I Promise.

Can you move your journal?

Chapter 9
I woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat.
"Another damn nightmare." I thought to myself. All of my nightmares consist of the same thing, Steve dying. I'm not sure why it happens, but I'm not going to question it. I turn to my left to see if Steve is in fact alive. It turns out that he is.
"God. You're so cute." I whisper. Today was quite eventful. We won our football game, and my best friend asked me out on a date. This day couldn't get any better. However, it could definitely get worse. I started to hear it. Steve was wheezing. This means an asthma attack is coming. They are the worst in his sleep. Those ones wake him up while he's still dazed and confused, so it's harder for him to process what to do. I start to sit up just in case it progresses, and it definitely is. He's starting to violently cough. I start to walk up to him and wake him up. I had his inhaler in my left hand, ready for him to take it when he needed it.
"Steve. Sit up." I said to him, while tapping him awake. He slowly obeys. I hand him his inhaler and start gently rubbing his back in circular motions. That usually helps him calm down. He gets really tense when this happens. It took about five puffs from his inhaler for it to finally calm down. He was finally able to catch his breath.
  "Thank you." He mumbled.
  "Any time." I said, getting up to go back to my bed. I then felt Steve tug me down.
  "Stay." He whispered.
  "Alright." And so I did. I slept with him. He slept wrapped in my arms. He's so small compared to me. I wrap my arms around his waist and pull him closer. This is all I've ever wanted and more. Just him. All I've ever wanted was him. I moved my arm up and I immediately feel something.
  "Stevie." I whispered into his ear.
  "Yeah?" He mumbled into the crook of my neck.
  "Can I move your journal?"
   —————————————————
         "Can I move your journal?"

"Did I just hear that right?" I thought to myself. Everyone else thinks it's just a sketchbook. How does he know? I immediately moved my head up to stare at him, our faces only inches apart.
  "How did you know that was a journal?" I asked.
  "I hear you writing in it in the middle of the night. I haven't read it, I swear on your mother's grave." I've never seen so much fear in his eyes. I must look like a crazy person right now.
  "I'm sorry. It's just really personal and I'm just really tired. I didn't mean to get heated." I apologized.
  "It's alright, Stevie. Just go to sleep. We have a big day ahead of us." Bucky said while smiling.
  "Goodnight."
  "Goodnight."
                      11/10/2001
The date went amazing. It was like a kid in a candy store. Bucky has always talked about trying to get more interested in art. He's always wanted to bond with me over it. He said "it was the perfect date." It even earned me a kiss on the cheek from him. His lips are so insanely soft. We've also decided to make it official. We talked about it, and decided why not say we are boyfriends. We updated the Mr. and Mrs. Barnes on the situation and they fully supported us. Of course, we filled the others in too. We both took our turns to call them. He was holding my hand through the entire museum. It was absolutely amazing. We only got a couple of stares, but we didn't care. We had each other and that's all that mattered. I wish he were here, though. He went to run errands with his dad. He's actually been gone for quite some time. They probably got side tracked with something. I just can't wait till he gets back. He promised me a dance. He said that he wanted to teach me. I reluctantly agreed. I guess the experience would be kind of nice.
My door swung open. I nearly pissed myself.
  "Steven. Steven get in the car now." Mrs. Barnes begged. She barely gave me enough time to slip on a shirt and shoes.
  "What's wrong? What's going on?" I asked her in the passenger's seat. I've never been ushered out of a home so quickly.
  "Honey, there's been an accident." She said, tears rolling down her cheeks. Immediately I know what she meant. Bucky and George. They've been gone for too long. Now thinking about it, they were running only two errands. It's been an hour and a half. I felt the tears welling up, threatening to run down my face.
  "What do you mean? Can you say anything about it?" I asked, panicking.
  "George is dead. James is in serious, yet stable, condition." She said, her voice breaking. She never calls Bucky by his first name, unless it's serious. She explained that George died on the scene. Bucky was still somewhat conscious when they found him, screaming his father's name. We aren't sure what else has happened to Bucky, and she's driving her fastest to find out. I'm surprised we haven't gotten pulled over yet. We rushed as fast as we could to the ICU. They immediately sent Bucky to the ICU after seeing his condition, apparently. We went to the front desk, asked where Barnes was, and we got his room number. It was room 13. They only allow two people in a room at once, so both Winnifred and I were able to go in. He looked awful. He was rendered unconscious, so he can't hear us walk in. We were informed that he's going to have to have a mandatory amputation of his left arm. His arm was beyond saving. They told us that an 18-wheeler struck the left side of the car, and Bucky was sitting right behind the drivers side. He's always had a thing about sitting in the passenger's seat, so he's always chosen to sit in the back, preferably behind the driver. They were only waiting for Mrs. Barnes for the go ahead for the removal of the arm. We were told that he was going to have an above the elbow amputation. It would be right before it would reach his shoulder. I can't help but worry for him when he wakes up. I don't know what will happen.
  After about ten minutes, the nurses and doctors asked us if we could leave the room. They wanted to take him and operate on him as soon as possible, and that soon was right now. We both spent the night at the hospital. I fell asleep for a little bit on Mrs. Barnes' shoulder, but she was on the phone calling relatives. I felt her tears hit the top of my head, but I didn't want her to know I was awake. If I had to look at her, I knew I'd start crying too. After a couple hours, they brought Bucky back to his room, without the left arm. We couldn't go in just yet, since he was fresh out of surgery.
  "I think it's safe to say we aren't going to school today." I thought to myself. Humor is my largest coping mechanism, and I really needed something to cheer me up.
  It's now 6:00 AM. They won't let us in the room yet. The want Bucky to be conscious and realize what's happening before he sees us. They want us to process this. Winnifred finally fell asleep. This time it was her turn to fall asleep on my shoulders. Everything finally started to sink in. George is gone. He's just. Gone. The last words I told him was "see you in a little bit!" The "little bit" never came. It never will come. I felt myself starting to cry. He's raised me like his own child. Hell, he just offered me his endless support today when he found out I was in a homosexual relationship with his son. I've lost two of my fathers. It hurts, and I can't imagine the pain Bucky will feel once he wakes up. I can't imagine the pain Winnifred is in.
  "Mrs. Barnes?" The nurse says. I tapped Mrs. Barnes on the shoulder to wake her up. When she woke up, she looked dazed.
  "Y-Yes ma'am?" She mustered out. She didn't look so good, but neither would I after finding out that my husband just died.
  "He's awake. He's asking for you two. In fact, he won't stop yelling about a boy named 'Steve'. I'm guessing that's you." She managed to give me a half smile. Most people think I'm his younger brother, not his best friend, or I guess boyfriend. We both got up to walk into the room. As we opened the door, we were greeted with Bucky sitting straight up in his bed. Both of us rushed to both of his sides. I went for his left side, and Mrs. Barnes went for his right.
  "Steve." He mumbled. He looked awful. He looked like he'd been to hell and back. "Mommy." He smiles at her. I've never heard him call her that in his life, and I've known him for years. He turns his body to face her, and he brushes her hair out of her face with his thumb. She starts to cry even harder.
  "Is Dad okay?" Silence filled the room. Complete deafening silence. At that, Mrs. Barnes fell apart. She couldn't respond to his question, but her tears were enough.
  "Buck, he-he passed. On the scene." I choked and stumbled on my own words. I then found myself crying. The face he gave me. The sheer terror. That face will be burned into my mind forever. The tears on his face were starting to form, and once they formed they wouldn't stop. I went to grab for his left hand, quickly realizing I couldn't. He hasn't even brought that up yet. At the mention of his father, he didn't even care about his arm. We were all just three people crying together. His mom held his right hand in hers, so I held onto his left thigh, rubbing soothing circles on the top of it. I wanted to do anything to make his sobs stop. They were heart wrenching. It sounded like he was being strangled.
  We've been in there for an hour now. I felt myself starting to get tired. This hour has basically just been filling Bucky in, and the doctors explaining his intense physical therapy. He also learned he'd be out of football for an insanely long amount of time, basically meaning forever. He looked like he'd just been shot, or in this case, his arm was amputated. Mrs. Barnes stepped out of the room for a second to get some air, so I stole her spot at the right edge of the bed. His legs were on the left side, so I've just been kneeling down for about two hours.
  "It still feels like it's there." Bucky blurted out loud. I was confused for a second. I didn't understand what he meant, until he pointed his eyes down at where his left arm would be.
  "It's almost like a ghost. I feel like I can move it, but I'm not moving anything." He said. He sounded tired.
  "I'm so sorry, Buck." I said. I wasn't sure what else to say.
  "I'm alright." He said with a smirk on his face.
  "You don't look alright."
  "No. Stevie, I'm all right." He said chuckling. It felt wrong to laugh at his pain, but I figured that's what he wanted.
  "You mean everything to me." I blurted out.
  "I know. The feeling is mutual." He grabbed my hand. I've never craved his touch more than this one moment.
  "Don't leave me." I said. I felt my voice breaking again.
  "I never will."