I Promise.

Twig arms.

Chapter 17
We spent the rest of Thanksgiving playing UNO and watching The Princess Diaries, or at least Winnie and I stayed up watching it. Bucky passed out on the sofa. The rest of the week completely blew by. It was crazy how fast it came and went. Now we were on our way back home, leaving behind some of the best memories of our life. I left Tony a post it note on the nightstand in my own room. It was just a simple thank you. Of course I would tell him in person, but I thought the note was a cute idea. The car ride home was just as similar as the car ride there. We left at 4:00 in the morning, and I held onto Bucky until he fell asleep. Except this time I didn't fall asleep, and I just waited till we got home to sleep. I went into our room, unpacked my bag, and passed out on my bed. I felt Bucky pull the sheets over me. I must've completely forgotten. The rest of the day went by in a blur, too. Tomorrow we had school again, which I really wasn't looking forward to. I didn't want to do a bunch of work, but I guess we have to if we want to graduate. I already turned in all my makeup work the previous Monday to their respective teachers before I checked out of school. This also reminded me that Bucky had a therapy appointment after school. I'd like to go, but I felt that Bucky didn't want me there so I didn't ask. I already ate lunch and I don't really care about dinner, so I asked Bucky to just let me sleep and not wake me up. I was completely worn out. So, he didn't wake me up like he promised. I woke up at 3:40 AM, walked downstairs to get some water, then went right back upstairs and went right back to sleep. I was just hoping tomorrow would be a great day.
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                      11/26/2001
Well today was an entire shitshow. For starters, I got a C minus on my Because of Winn-Dixie annotations, because they weren't detailed enough. Then, Rumlow decided to start making fun of my weight and push me into a locker. It was only us in the locker room, so I couldn't stop him. I just let him continue insulting me until someone else walked in. He wanted to keep his reputation, so he put me down. Bucky still hasn't gotten back, so I'm already expecting it to be bad.
I heard the front door unlocking, so I shoved my journal in my book bag, and pulled out my science textbook. Mrs. Winnifred always wants us on the couch if only one of us are home alone, so I obeyed the rules. I started to ask Bucky how it went, but he completely blew past the door, up the stairs, and into the room. He slammed the door. I looked back over at Mrs. Barnes. She was rubbing her temple with her fingers. She looked exhausted. In fact, she looked like she wanted to pass out. I went over to her and took her by the arm and led her to the sofa. I went into the kitchen, fixed her a glass of water, and gave it to her. She looked seriously dehydrated.
  "What's wrong?" I asked. Clearly a lot was wrong by the look on her face.
  "He broke the arm. He got angry, tossed it on the floor, and some parts broke. I just have to get it repaired. For $250. It's $250 I don't have." She started rubbing her temples harder. I walked into the medicine cabinet and walked back to the couch to hand her two Aleve. She gladly accepted it and swigged it down with her water.
  "I'll pay for it. My mom left me a good chunk of money." I told her. I was hoping this would reassure her.
  "I can't accept that. You still need to pay for college, honey. You can't keep spending your money on my problems. It isn't fair to you." She said.
  "Your problems are my problems. My money is your money. I live under your roof, not the opposite way around. Besides, with my grades I'll probably get a scholarship anyways." I smiled at her. I wanted her to know I'm here for her. "There's no fighting this, ma'am. I'm giving you the money. End of story."
"What did I do to deserve you, Steve." She asked.
"Well, my mom died and she put your name in the will to take care of me, ma'am." I answered, honestly. She snorted and ruffled my hair.
"You're a good kid. He's lucky. Your mom would be proud of you." She smiled at me.
  After sitting on the sofa for a while, I figured I should probably go upstairs and check on Bucky. He's been up there for a while, and I wanted to see what's wrong.
I immediately got a pillow chucked at my head as I entered the room. His eyes looked angry, furious even. He wasn't mad at anyone in particular. Just angry at the first person he would see, it just turns out that first person is me. This immediately brought me back to our other fights. The physical fights we'd have when we were younger. It's normal for us to fist fight and roughhouse. We're boyfriends, but we are also best friends. We've grown up doing this our whole life.
  "Piss off." He growled. I tossed the pillow right back at him. He caught it with his hand.
  "Why?" I asked.
  "Because I said so."
  "Now give me a good reason."
  "That reason was good enough." He tossed the pillow back at my face. This time I couldn't catch it in time, and it hit me square in the nose. I mean, it's a pillow so it didn't hurt, but it was still annoying.
  "Why did you break the arm?" I asked him.
  "Why do you fucking care? It's none of your goddamn business." He glared at me. To anyone else his stare would be intimidating, but quite frankly I didn't give a fuck.
  "It is my goddamn business! Why did you do it?" I asked again. I wanted an answer. I wanted to help him. I'm trying to keep my cool as best as I can.
  "Fuck off, Steven. I don't need your pity." He continued to glare at me.
  "Good, I'm not offering you my pity. I don't have any pity to give you, considering I'm wallowing in my own." I joked. He probably wouldn't find it funny, but I just wanted it to seem like it wasn't bothering me.
  "Don't you ever know when to leave me the fuck alone. Get out of my ass." Boom another pillow. This time it hit a picture frame. It was a picture of Bucky and his dad in front of his grandparent's boat. Bucky realized what picture it collided with. "You've got to be fucking kidding me. You couldn't fucking catch the pillow?" He raised his voice. Somehow he was blaming me for it.
  "Seriously? You threw the pillow at me!" I raised my voice to accommodate to his.
  "It's not my fucking fault your twig arms are too weak to catch it!" I froze. He knows how much I've always hated that name. Twig arms. That's what Brock Rumlow would call me before he'd beat me up. Those words are an immediate trigger of mine.
  "Oh yeah, twig arms? At least I have two fucking arms!" Bucky immediately stood up at this comment. He came up right in front of me to size me up.
  "What the fuck did you just say?" I wasn't backing down. If he wanted to use me as his personal punching bag, I didn't care. We've done this thirty times before. Have we ever done this since we started dating? No. But this is a lot different than other relationships. We've physically fought each other thousands of times. It's what we've always done.
  "You heard what the fuck I said. You want me to repeat myself?" I growled. Now he's pissed me off.
  "Yeah, repeat yourself twig arms. I'll fucking beat you to pieces with only one arm." Sometimes I think we forget that we are dating. This very much isn't right, but like I said before. It's what we know.
  "At least. I have. Two. Fucking. Arms." I said, annunciating each word as clearly as I could. There it came, the first swing. It knocked me into the wall. I grabbed him by his left shoulder, pulled him down, and slapped him in the face. He pulled me around by my hair, and punched me in the gut. I evened it out again by now grabbing him by his hair, and kicking him straight where it hurt. He doubled over in pain. This gave me my chance to talk.
  "Beat me with one fucking arm, Bucky. See if I care. If you want to use me as your own personal punching bag then so be it, but don't expect me to keep fucking paying for that metal arm of yours. It could go to hell. It's not like it's mine anyways. In fact, you could go to hell." He stood up and pushed me up against the wall. He held me above to his height, which is 5'9.
  "Fuck you, asshole." He dropped me, and I fell to the ground, wheezing. I was holding back the coughs. I took my inhaler out of my pocket and puffed it a couple times. Bucky was on his bed cooling off. It reminded me of old times. Times when he'd have both of his arms. I didn't dare stand up right now, I didn't want to stumble and fall over. I leaned my back against the wall, put my head back, and closed my eyes, taking deep breaths. That's all you could hear in the room. My wheezing and the breathing.
  "You alright?" Bucky asked, his hand covering the majority of his face. I wasn't sure how to answer that. "Yeah I'm great. We both just beat each other up! Just like old times! Super great!"
  "Considering I'm struggling to breathe and my boyfriend just made fun of my weight, no. But how considerate of you to ask after beating my ass." I snapped. I felt cold and bitter. I felt disgusted. Not towards Bucky, just his behavior. This is the first time he's lashed out this bad. Last time it was me, but I barely even hit him. This is different, he's way larger than me. He made fun of me. He brought up the one thing that made me uncomfortable.
  "I'm really sorry." He said. I'm not letting him off so easily.
  "Sorry doesn't cut it this time, buddy. Thanks for pulling a Brock Rumlow. Really helps my confidence." I said bitterly.
  "You think what you said helps me? Thanks for reminding me about the fact that I only have one arm." He snapped.
  "Oh are you seriously trying to go again? You brought up my fucking twig arms before everything else. You know, the twig arms I've been self conscious about since I was five years old. The body I've wanted to grow out of since I was 12. I'd rather have one of your arms than two of mine. They're disgusting. They disgust me every time I get undressed in the mirror, so thanks for reminding me." I really was going hard with the whole bitter thing. The air felt cold. I was beyond pissed.
  "You know I didn't mean what I said. It was the first insult I could think of." Bucky explained. That was a lame excuse.
  "I'm glad you got inspiration from Brock. Speaking of him, let's talk about what he did to me in the locker room today! He took me by the chest and called me twig arms. He dropped me to the ground once everyone else walked in. I wonder who that fucking reminds me of. Oh wait. I'm in the same fucking room as him." I was staring daggers at him. "Do you only use me to get horny or something? You want me as a pitiful excuse to fucking get off at night? Is that fucking it. Because you can use me as that, but you aren't going to sit here and insult me all the time." This was one of the first times I sounded so serious. I meant what I said.
  "I don't use you as a way to get horny, Steve. I love you, I really do. Everything is just rough and I keep taking it out on the first person I see." He stared at the ceiling. His voice was shaking.
  "Then stop doing this. It hurts. I just want to help you." Now it was my turn for my voice to crack.
  "I know, I'm sorry. I really am. I'm just sick of feeling like a burden."
  "You aren't a burden. I'm not sure how many times I'll have to say it." I said.
  "I'm sorry."
  "Just shut up, and let's not talk about this anymore. I'm not in the mood." I finally stood up and walked out the door.
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Bucky and I fell asleep in our own beds. It was strange not sleeping with him next to me. I knew he wasn't asleep, so I asked him the question of the evening.
  "Buck?" I called out.
  "Yeah?" He answered.
   "Do you actually hate my arms?" I asked. I slept with my sweater on. It completely damaged my self esteem.
   "Does it seem like I hate your arms. You've seen what you do to me. I don't hate anything about you." His voice echoed into the dark. He has a point. "Go to sleep, Steve. We have school in the morning." I shut my eyes. That's when the dream started. Bucky. Just me and Bucky. I've never had these types of dreams. It was the two of us together doing god knows what, but having a great time while doing so. Dear god, this dream is so great I wish it would never end. That's when I woke up. This may be one of the most uncomfortable and disturbing parts of my whole life. The sheets were wet, fucking wet. I was dripping in cold sweat. There was no way Bucky was asleep through this. He was probably doing the best to keep me calm, but I was full on panicking.
  "Fuck, fuck, fuck! Shit! Damn it!" They were spilling out, word after word. I was freaking out now. I was quite literally disgusted. Bucky got up out of his bed, and walked to my dresser. He grabbed me a pair of underwear and threw it at me.
  "Get changed. I'll deal with this." He looked so tired. It made me wonder how often he sleeps, and how often he lies awake with his eyes open.
  "I- I can deal with it. It's fine, really. You don't have to help." I mumbled. I felt awful, especially after tonight's events.
  "Just get the fuck up, Rogers." I stood up and Bucky turned and faced the wall. It was nice that he didn't turn around. It took me about three minutes to wash myself up and change. I came out of the room and found that my bed was stripped. I reached into my last drawer and found the closest thing I had to a pair of extra sheets. It was really just an extra comforter. It had to make due for now. I seriously hate being a teenage boy. I hate when this shit happens, especially since I don't have my own room. Bucky walked back into the room.
  "It's in the washer." He said. He immediately went to the bathroom to wash his hands, and then came back out.
  "Thanks. You didn't have to do that." I responded.
  "I know I didn't have to. I wanted to." He gave me a small half smile. I just wanted to crawl into a hole and die. This was one of the most embarrassing things to happen. I flopped over on the now bare mattress. It wasn't very comfortable without the sheets, but it's good for now. I quickly dozed back off into sleep.