Chapter Text
Why Bucky's Doing Better
He slept on the couch this afternoon.
He went outside and came back. He came back.
He called me a punk today
I called him a jerk, and he didn't attack me. He laughed.BuckHe hummed to the radio while I made dinner.
He actually ate today. I didn't have to remind him.
He asked about Anne. I told him she got married. — Check that!
He didn't have nightmares tonight. I stayed up to be sure.
When Sam came by, he came out of his room to perimeter check. He didn't think Sam was a threat.Finally
Books have been disappearing from my shelf, and Nat hates my stuff. I think he's reading again.
Remember: Mocha (?) latte with extra...whip? No soy — definitely no soy. It'll make him sick.
He gave me his knife. Jesus, he gave me his knife.
I asked him if he wanted a haircut. He said no. He said he likes it the way it is.
He wants things. He wants a lot of things.
...
— — — — — — —nothing happe...goddammit, those fucking bastards —
He asked to be put down. I told him I couldn't.
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He wants me to call him Bucky.— —
He wants me to call him Bucky.