Bucky
"And you might want it back." He said, your cell phone in hand. How did you not realize you dropped that?!
"You are a saint." You muttered, taking the phone from your fellow student and shoving it in your back pocket. "Most kids would've just taken it and ran away from the scene."
He shrugged. "I already have a phone, so why would I need yours? I'm James, by the way. You can call me Bucky, if you want."
"Well thank you, Bucky. I really appreciate that."
His half smile melted you into a puddle of nothing. "It's no problem, really. See you around?" He was already half turned around, his left hand raised slightly to half-wave goodbye as he headed for class.
"Guess so." You turned the other way and headed to your dreaded art class, sighing deeply as the teacher was standing at the Smart Board, the PowerPoint presentation loaded up already. You groaned rather loudly, though she couldn't hear you, thankfully.
You sat at your desk, the art supplies in the back hardly touched at all, which was just sad. The lights were soon flipped off and she started droning on and on about the Renaissance or something. Your phone was slid out of your pocket, and while you hadn't been expecting any notifications, you certainly didn't mind the indication on your lock screen that said otherwise. Sneakily you opened up the text, which was from an unknown number.
Hey, it's Bucky. I put your number in my phone before I gave it back. Hope you don't mind.
Not really, I suppose. Why are you texting me now though?
Same could be said to you, you know.
You got me.
So what's up?
I'm in art right now, trying not to blow my brains out. You?
Just hanging out in attendance with my pal. I've got first lunch.
Lucky. I have fifth and it's super tedious when you're starving.
I've never had last lunch, so I can only imagine. So are you super into art or was this just some elective you hadn't done yet?
I'm not super passionate about it, no. It's more like a spare time kind of thing.
Shame. My buddy Steve runs the art club. But it's whatever. You play any sports?
I was on the softball team, yeah. But softball season is over so not anymore. You?
I run track. Should come check out a meet sometime, they're pretty cool. Or don't. It's fine either way.
I might sometime.
The bell rang, signaling first lunch had ended. You sighed and waited five minutes, but no new text messages came in. Guess Bucky wasn't the type to text in class...
Lunch time eventually crawled around, you being the first to escape the ironically drab classroom. The lunchroom was a disaster every day, filled with nothing but disgusting food and relentless noise, so the library was your hangout spot during lunch every day. It was quiet, you could do your homework, and there was no one that would come bother you. There was a class in there, probably doing research papers, as it was just that time in the semester when the English teachers decided to force their students to work the most tedious papers they could.
You sat down at one of the tables and pulled out a book. It was an interesting one, and a personal favorite of yours. Originally it'd been exposed to you when you were a freshman, but your copy of the novel showed you clearly loved it, as some edges were worn and certain pages had creases from being bent and used to bookmark your spot. You were currently on the part where Marlena had just been beaten by August and hopping across the train cars when your phone buzzed in your pocket...
Turn around.
The hell...?
Behind you sat Bucky, who was sitting with a laptop, Microsoft Word open and few words typed. He grinned at you and you waved. "Hey."
"Hi." You smiled back at him. "Writing a paper?"
"Unfortunately. What're you doin' up here?"
"I don't like going to the cafeteria."
"Barnes! Stop bothering this young woman and do your paper."
Bucky rolled his eyes and turned back around. "Alright, Ms. Aran."
You looked back at your novel, only for your phone to go off once again.
Sorry about that. Anyway, I don't like goin' there either.
You rubbed your lips together and slipped your hands under the desk to respond to him.
You should probably be doing your paper, Bucky.
And you shouldn't be texting during school.
Aren't you doing the same?
You got me.
xXx
11:58 p.m.
You up?
You cracked an eye open and picked up your phone, flinching at the light. It was generally a rule for you to go to bed at around eleven, as none of your friends would be up this late to talk anyway. So what the hell was Bucky doing up so damn late? And asking if you were awake! What the hell?
I am now.
My bad. Anyway, ever seen Breaking Bad?
No. My drama/AP teacher keeps recommending it to me. I told her I'd get to it eventually. Why?
Because it's awesome and you need to watch it.
Hm. I'll get to it.
So what's up?
My eyelids.
You go to bed this early?
You go to bed this late?
Night owl.
School night.
Doesn't really matter to me. Anyway, you should stay home tomorrow and binge watch Breaking Bad.
Why?
Because it's good.
Good enough to skip school?
There's no better reason to.
I'll think about it. Goodnight, Bucky.
Later, (Name).
xXx
You awoke the next morning to the realization that you did not want to head to school that day. So, with a quick 'I don't wanna go to school.' text to your mother, Netflix was on and breakfast in your lap. You crunched on the colorful, sugary pebbles, debating between Supernatural or Animaniacs. Watch a show with sexy men defeating the things that went bump in the night, or your beloved cartoon that was definitely a morning type of show?
Going to school?
No.
So you listened to me?!
No. I just didn't wanna go to school.
So watch Breaking Bad.
Must I?
I returned your phone, didn't I?
Bastard.
Just start watching! I'll even start from the beginning so we can watch it together.
You're really dedicated to this, huh?
You'll see why.
xXx
"(Name)?" There were three soft raps against the closed white door, "You in there?"
"Yeah!" You paused the show Bucky had successfully submerged you into just as your mother stepped inside. "Hi mom! How was work?"
"Same shit, different day." She responded, sitting at the edge of your bed. "What'd you do today?"
"Watched this show my friend recommended to me."
"What's it about?"
You snorted. "Meth."
She raised an eyebrow and chuckled, shaking her head. The hell were kids into these days? Meth... Psh, back in her day, weed was all you needed to feel nice.
"I'll just let you get to it. Dinner's on its way; I ordered pizza before I left work."
"Sweet!" You lunged forward, hugging the life out of your mom. "You're the best."
"I know." She kissed her temple and left, closing the door behind her, you noted. Such a good mom...
The hell's the holdup?!
Was talking to my mom, grumpy gills.
Hey! That's Mr. Grumpy Gills to you.
Whatever. I'm playing the show now.
Took you long enough.
xXx
You wanna hang out sometime?
Like where?
I don't know. We can go to the mall or something.
I'm game. When?
Now?
Can you pick me up?
Yep.
You texted him your address and clambered around, looking for something to wear. It'd been a week since that initial meeting and you'd yet to see him after that. Turns out all of his classes were nowhere near yours, so there was never any time to actually see one another. So communicating via text was the way to go, unfortunately. And with a quick goodbye and a promise to return before ten to your parent, you were out the door and on the way to the mall with Bucky.
"So what's up?" He asked, as if he hadn't been texting you all day.
"Nothing." You replied with an eye roll. "Nothing new, anyhow, in the ten minutes it's been since we last spoke."
"Ah, shaddup. Lot can happen in that time span, punk."
"Like?"
"I dunno~ World could end or something. Then that'd be something to chat about." The corner of his lip perked up at your sudden giggles. He was already funny, but now that you could hear his voice it was even better. Tech was great, but flesh was perfect.
"Not if we're dead." You stated.
He conceded, nodding. "Not if we're dead."
Bucky bought a churro as soon as he stepped foot into the place, splitting it with you evenly. It was silent as the two of you walked around. You glanced up at Bucky just as he looked at you, each of you looking away instantly. He tossed the paper from the food away and shoved his hands in his dark jeans, eyes darting just about everywhere but your direction.
This was incredibly awkward. Was this how it was after meeting internet friends? You hoped not; you had a shit ton of them to meet up with someday.
This is awkward.
You read the narration.
What?
Moving on. Why are you texting me? I'm literally right next to you.
This is easier.
Fair enough. Wanna go check out the puppies in the pet store?
He didn't even respond, as he was halfway to the store already. "I'm gonna name all the golden retrievers Steve!"
xXx
Hey (Name)?
Yeah?
Go on a date with me?
Yeah.
xXx
Hey (Name)?
Yeah?
Move in with me?
Yeah.
xXx
Hey (Name)?
Yeah?
Marry me?
You looked behind you, the twenty-four year old man on the floor and a ring in hand.
Yeah.