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Steve,
I can’t won’t be seen with you anymore. People have been talking, and I don’t want to deal with it. Don’t talk to me again, I’ve made up my mind.
- Bucky
The scrap of paper that Steve had found in his locker swam in and out of his vision, tears blurring the words that were breaking his heart. Rubbing his eyes roughly, Steve stuffed the paper into his pocket, slamming his locker shut and walking away quickly when people turned to look at the sound.
‘You knew this was going to happen,’ Steve thought angrily, swiping at his cheeks as those traitorous tears continued flowing out of his eyes. ‘Bucky was always going to get tired of you, it was just a matter of time.’
Steve choked back a sob, quickly making his way to the far bathroom, beyond relieved to see that it was empty. Pushing open the wheelchair accessible stall, he dropped his backpack and slid down against the wall. The tears flowed freely, hiccuped sobs escaping his lips with no chance of stopping now.
He and Bucky had been friends since the beginning, their mothers becoming close friends first, resulting in their introduction to each other when they were still in diapers. Even before he really knew how to describe it, Steve loved Bucky. He had always been there for him, and vice-versa, and...Steve had thought that they were moving towards something more recently. But that note had more than squashed that hope. Hiding his face in his knees, Steve cried and cried, his heart breaking into a million pieces.
He didn’t know how much time had passed before he heard some loud boys outside the bathroom, their voices getting louder as they entered the room. Recognizing the voices, Steve froze, terrified and angry as he started listening to what they were saying.
“Come on out Rogers, you’ve had your alone time. Stop sniveling and give us our pound of flesh,” came Brock Rumlow’s voice, the senior quarterback aka the bane of Steve’s existence.
Heavy knocking on Steve’s stall door startled him, and he braced himself a moment before Rumlow and some other football players broke down the door. With a surge of adrenaline, Steve managed to punch one of the bigger boys directly in the nose and another in the cheek. The smug feeling of having caught them off guard was quickly swept away, along with his breath as Rumlow shoved a huge fist into his stomach.
Groaning, Steve would have fallen to the ground if it weren’t for Rumlow grabbing the back of his shirt. He hung in the larger boy’s grip, panting for breath, groaning again when Rumlow decided to yank his head back by his hair. He glared up at the other boy as Rumlow leaned over him. “Now that your damn boyfriend is taken care of, your ass is mine.”
Not even past experience of being beat up by Rumlow and his goons could have stopped the words from passing Steve’s lips. “Didn’t know you thought of me that way, Brock,” Steve grinned, seeing the fist coming at his face a mile away but unable to move away.
Stars bloomed behind Steve’s eyes, and he came back to himself sprawled across the floor. ‘Yuck,’ Steve groaned, shakily pushing himself up to his hands and knees. As his hearing tuned back in, Steve realized there were a lot of voices echoing around the bathroom. Looking up, he could only stare in confusion at Bucky beating the hell out of Rumlow and the other three football players.
Fists flying, feet swinging forward to literally kick the other boys out of the bathroom, Bucky was a sight to see. His long hair was put up in a ponytail, grey eyes blazing with anger as he managed to shove Rumlow out of the bathroom, one final punch to his cheek sending him running. The silence left behind was deafening, only Bucky’s panting breaths breaking the air between them. ‘What the hell is going on?’ Steve thought desperately, unable to correlate what was happening now with what he had read earlier.
“I thought you hated me,” Steve said quietly, biting his lip in the next second because he didn’t mean to say that, fuck!
Bucky turned quickly towards Steve, striding over and kneeling next to him to take a closer look at his face. Only Steve inching backwards at the movement stopped Bucky from reaching forward and cupping Steve’s face. Clearing his throat, Bucky asked, “What do you mean? How could I hate you punk?”
Steve’s eyes grew hot again, and he whispered, “But that letter…?” cutting off when Bucky cursed under his breath, glancing away before turning back and making solid eye contact with him.
Steve’s breath was stolen away from that serious gaze, and he stared back as Bucky said, “That wasn’t me, I promise you, I would never do that to you. Rumlow has always had a grudge against you since the first time you stepped in between him and his latest prey, and he thought the rest of the football team was enough to keep me away from you.” A little smug grin crossed Bucky’s face, but it quickly disappeared as he said, “But I overheard those assholes talking about a note and how ‘that Rogers was going to get it today’ and no one could have stopped me then.”
Reaching forward slowly, Bucky smiled softly when Steve allowed him to stroke his cheek. “Can I hug you?” he whispered, quickly pulling Steve into his embrace at Steve’s shaky nod.
“Love you Buck,” Steve sniffled, fingers clenched tightly in Bucky’s jacket.
Steve’s heart warmed and a watery smile crept onto his face as he heard Bucky whisper back, “I love you too Steve.”