Chapter 3
2003
Jimmy waited at their spot for two hours. It wasn't that unusual for Steph to not come, except yesterday she'd promised to let Jimmy borrow her Spiderman comic books to read up on the episode coming out tonight. It was pretty high priority, as far as things in their life went.
Jimmy knew where Steph lived, despite her attempts to mislead him. He thought it probably had something to do with how poor she was, and that she was embarrassed about him seeing her home, but he didn't care.
They'd been friends for over a month now, and they were getting closer all the time. Jimmy figured it wouldn't be completely awful if he showed up her house.
He rang the doorbell, but it didn't work. The door was open in the muggy June heat, so Jimmy rapped on the bar of the screen door. "Hello?" he called out. "Steph? Mrs Rogers?"
He heard a voice shriek out, and he burst inside to find the source of the sound. Steph and her mom- Sara- were in the kitchen, and a greasy, bald man had Sara's wrist in a grip. "You owe, me, toots," he snarled.
"Leave her alone!" Steph shouted, but her voice was weak, face red and chest heaving. She was having an asthmatic attack.
"Hey!" Jimmy shouted, using his height over the man. "What's going on in here?"
Sara's eyes darted back and forth between the man and Jimmy. "Nothing," she gritted out, but it was clear she was distressed.
"Mrs Rogers is four months behind on rent," the man growled. "And even foitha behind on my goodwill. I held off on the eviction notice, but if you don't give me at least half by next week, you're on the street."
"Please, a third is all I have. Steph had to go the ER! What else am I supposed to do?"
Jimmy looked over to Steph, who was wheezing and frantically searching her backpack for her inhaler. "You need to leave. Scaring these two isn't going to help anything," he told the man, trying to be calm.
"Whatever," the man snapped, heading back for the front door. "Next week!"
"Are you okay, Mrs Rogers?" Jimmy asked, inspecting her arm for bruising. "I'm Jimmy, Steph's friend. I don't know if she's mentioned me."
Steph took two deep breaths into her inhaler, and thankfully her breaths began to even.
Sara was frantic, but unhurt. "I'm fine. Thank you so much for stepping in."
"What the hell are you doing here?" Steph demanded, clearly having regained her voice.
"Steph!" Sara admonished.
Steph pushed on Jimmy's arm. "You can't just walk into our house!"
"You're right, I'm sorry. I heard screaming, so I came inside."
"Jimmy, was that it? That was very brave. Would you like to stay for dinner?"
Jimmy looked around at their kitchen. It was small and bare, and he didn't want to take what little food they had for himself. And Steph's eyes were stuck to the ground. It was clear that she didn't want him here.
"My ma expects me home for dinner, but thank you."
"I'll walk you," Steph muttered.
"I am sorry I went in. I was worried about you," Jimmy started, breaking the silence of their walk. The sun had just start to set, and Sara wasn't too enthusiastic on letting Steph walk out so late, but Jimmy reassured her he lived in the nice part of town. "Why did you have to go to the ER?" Jimmy asked when Steph didn't reply.
"I told you, I'm sick all the time. Doctor's don't know what's wrong with me."
"Maybe you should see my dad."
"No!" Steph shouted, and Jimmy stopped walking.
He sighed. "Steph, I wanna be your friend, but it's like you don't want me in your life at all."
She started crying, and Jimmy held her to his chest. She was so small and seemed so fragile. "I'm sorry," she sobbed. She tried to speak more but she was crying too hard for her words to come out clearly, and Jimmy was worried she might have another attack.
"Shh, it's okay, calm down," Jimmy told her, fishing some napkins out of his pocket and giving them to her to blow her nose. "It's okay. You don't want me to meet your family, you don't wanna meet mine, we can just be creek friends."
"You don't mind?" Steph asked, looking up at him with her big sad blue eyes.
"A little, but you're not ready for that yet and I'm not gonna push you. You're… you're my best friend, Steph. I trust you know what's best for you. I just worry about you."
"Everybody worries about me," Steph rolled her eyes.
"Please just be careful. If that asshole threatens your mom, you call me, okay?" Jimmy had given her his parent's home number a while ago, but she'd never used it. "I'll be there in a flash."
"I think she made some kind of deal with him," Steph admitted, her face burning red. "He's come around before, and she sends me out of the house. We were doing okay on rent until I got sick, and I think she was sleeping with him until she got tired of it, and now he wants all the money she owed him."
Jimmy furrowed his brows. "That's illegal."
"Doesn't matter. She's a broke single mom and he knows there's no one to protect her. She's not gonna call the cops on him. He has her backed into a corner, and I don't think we can afford to move again. She can't refuse him whatever he asks."
Steph wouldn't talk about it anymore, and soon they were home.
The next time they met up at the creek, Steph confirmed her fears. "Mom sat me down today and told me everything was gonna be okay now because they're dating," she said. "Mr. Schmidt forgave her debt, and he wants us to move in with him."
Jimmy shook his head. "I don't care what he says. Nothing good can come out of a man that violent. It'll only get worse the more she's around him."
"I know, but mom won't be honest with me. She doesn't want me to be scared and she doesn't think I'll understand. She's trying to protect me and she's gonna marry the devil in the process."
"What do you want me to do?" Jimmy asked.
"Please, please stay out of it," Steph begged. "I know you want to help, but there's nothing you can do. You'll just make it worse. You're the only good thing I have in my life right now. Please let's just pretend everything is normal when we hang out."
Jimmy didn't like it, but he agreed. "Okay. But if he hurts her again, you call me straight away. Promise?" He held out his pinky and bit his thumb, raising one eyebrow at Steph expectantly. She reluctantly agreed, biting her thumb too.
It was a few weeks before she called, but she did eventually.
Jimmy was playing video games in his room when his mom came in with the phone. "Jimmy, it's for you." She held the corded receiver out to him.
Immediately he threw aside his controller, not caring if he died. "Hello?" he barked out into the phone, immediately panicking.
"Jimmy," Steph sobbed. "It's mom. She's unconscious."
Jimmy took his dad's other car without even asking. He had his learner's permit, and technically an adult would be in the car in a moment.
Steph was holding Sara by the kitchen sink when he went in. He noticed sourly that most of their belongings were packed up in boxes, which Steph hadn't mentioned.
"I just came inside and she was on the floor like this! I don't know what to do."
"Schmidt didn't hit her?" Jimmy exclaimed, checking to make sure Sara was breathing, which she was. Her forearms were soapy up to the elbows and it looked like she'd just passed out.
He laid her down on the floor and bent her knees to allow blood to flow from the brain, like he'd learned from his dad. "Get me some Gatorade. Why didn't you call 911?"
"Mom made me promise not to if she passed out. Can't afford it."
So they at least knew there was a chance this would happen. Jimmy began to wonder how many of Steph's ailments were hereditary.
She retrieved a red Gatorade for him, and Sara began to come to.
"What happened?" She asked groggily.
"Mrs Rogers, when was the last time you ate?" Jimmy asked. Her face told him all he needed to know. He gave her the Gatorade and told her to drink it all. "You're okay. You're probably just dehydrated. It's really hot in here, and doing the dishes probably didn’t help. You should probably still go to a hospital, just to be checked out," he told her, but he knew she wouldn't listen. Stubborn Rogers women.
He had to take the car back before his dad came home from work. Steph walked him to the street.
"So you're really gonna move in with Schmidt?" Jimmy asked, playing with the car keys. He didn't expect a straight answer.
"Nothing's going to change," Steph promised. "I'll still meet you every day at 6. Doesn't matter which house I come from."
But things did change. Steph didn't call again, and as far as Jimmy knew, they were at least eating more regularly. Steph didn't show any outward signs of abuse, but Jimmy knew Schmidt was smarter than that. She was as cagey and skeptical as ever, but where before she would fill their time with constant chatter about her latest scientific obsession or comic book, now she stayed quiet and mostly let Jimmy talk. He begged her to tell him if anything was wrong, if Schmidt was hurting either of them or if they were in danger, but Steph kept her lips sealed.
"It's my birthday," She told him on the fourth of July.
"Happy 15th birthday," he told her. He wished he'd known. He would have brought her something.
Maybe there was something he could still give her. They were only a year apart in age now.
He leaned down for a kiss, but Steph remained looking at the ground and didn't tilt her head up to meet his lips.
"I want you to be my girlfriend," he told her.
"And I want you to fuck off," she snapped, punching his shoulder and running away.
Jimmy sighed, kicking a log in frustration. He'd pushed too hard and lost his best friend. His only real friend.
2023
They'd agreed on 6 pm, which was more like mid-morning to both of them. Bucky woke up at 3, took a shower, shaved, and started picking out an outfit. He'd bought some new clothes recently- because his old clothes were outdated, he told himself, and not because they were one decent meal away from not fitting. He tried on a few new nice button down shirts and checked himself in the mirror when he got a text.
Steve: Hey, Bucky, I'm really sorry but I'm going to have to cancel tonight.
No reason. No plans to reschedule. Just blowing him off again like he had last time, and Bucky was starting to get tired of being the only one who seemed to be trying.
Plans for the night ruined, he opened up DoorDash and ordered enough food to eat his feelings.
A few hours later, when he was laying beached on the couch, testing the stretchiness of his new jeans, he got another text.
Steve: I'm sorry. Please don't be mad. I want to see you, I just couldn't today.
Bucky was about to ignore it when he texted again.
Steve: I have a lot of health issues. I'm having a flare up today. I was really hoping that I could push through, but I'm in so much pain I can't get out of bed and my joints are so swollen it hurts to text. Please don't hate me.
Bucky's heart let out a sympathetic pang. Sure, there was the possibility Steve was lying, but he'd picked a good excuse. Bucky had a good friend back in childhood who was always sick, and he couldn't imagine how hard it was to live like that every day. He tapped on the notification and opened the chat to respond.
Bucky: So if we reschedule plans for another night, what's to say you won't cancel then?
He didn't have to wait long for a response.
Steve: Nothing. I'm sorry. I didn't want to have this conversation until much later, but this is how it's going to be with me. I can't judge how I'm going to feel in the future and I can't really be relied on for anything concrete. I wish this wasn't how it is but my illness is a part of me and I can't separate that.
Bucky: I understand. Is there anything you need?
Steve: You're sweet, but I'm okay for now. I'm going to stop texting bc my fingers hurt but I promise I'll text you tomorrow.
Bucky: Kk. Try to get some rest :)
Bucky was still a little mad, but he figured Steve must be frustrated, too. The least he could do was try to be understanding. And now that everything was in the open, he wouldn't expect Steve to be punctual, which took a lot of pressure off.
He'd already worked through most of his order of boneless wings, but he grunted with effort and sat up to pull the rest of the containers to him and put on his comfort movie.
He was getting hard, something that was happening with more frequency recently. He'd eat himself into a food coma, jerk off, and then pretend none of it had ever happened. He palmed himself through his boxers with his hand not covered in barbeque sauce, slipping deeper into the feelings of fullness and horny, and a little tipsy too from half of a six pack of craft beers. It was just pleasure, he told himself. Just food and alcohol and sex. All people secretly wanted a life where they could allow themselves all of their most primal desires. What wasn't erotic about that?
He stroked himself to completion, and surveyed the damage around him as the clarity set in.
You're pathetic, a nasty voice in his head whispered. Of course he doesn't want to see you. Why would he, when there's younger, thinner men?
The next day, Steve didn't text. Bucky didn't take it personal. He wasn't going to force things. If something was going to happen, it would happen. There were other people Bucky could be with.
He Snapchatted his old booty call, half out of loneliness, half out of spite. He sent a selfie of half of his face peering into the screen with the ceiling above him.
Bucky: Hey u up
She snapped back a little under ten minutes later. She'd dyed her hair back to blonde, which Bucky loved. He had a thing for blondes.
Yelena: Not tonite James
Bucky had met her in his last year of high school when she'd moved into the area, and then they'd reconnected when he moved to NYC. He'd gone by James or Jimmy back then, and he never asked her to call him Bucky even though his family didn't even call him James anymore.
He posed with a frowny face that emphasized his double chin, but it had been a few months since they'd hooked up, so he wanted to soft launch his weight gain anyway.
Bucky: :( Why not?
Yelena: Dating someone now.
Her selfie showed her in bed with a dark-haired woman with purple eyeliner. Bucky was happy for her, but only solidified how lonely he felt.
Bucky: Happy for y'all. Let me know if you ever need a surrogate
She snapped back the two of them laughing and promised to invite him if they wanted a surrogate or a unicorn, and Bucky felt better at least that he was being rejected because she was taken, not because he was fat now.
But he still wanted to feel that ego boost. He had a toxically high standard for people he was with. He wanted to be worshipped and adored, a feeling no one had ever met since the first time.
He'd been thinking about her more and more these days. It was only one summer twenty years ago, but no one had ever made him feel like she did.
He had one picture of her, a faded little 4x6 from a disposable film camera. It was the two of them, with the date July 2003 written in his messy scrawl on the lower left corner. It was at their spot they used to meet, with the camera he'd bought for her 15th birthday. Bucky looked young and strong, with his stupid long shaggy skater boy hair. Steph was smiling shyly. It was the photo that he'd submitted to the police after she'd disappeared. After her mother died, he was the only person who cared about her in the whole world. In a few months, it would be twenty years since she'd disappeared.
(Drawing by me)
He narrowed his eyes at the picture. Her eyes looked familiar, somehow. And not familiar to the picture, familiar to something else. Something more recent. The memory was just on the tip of his tongue, but the more he tried to chase it, the deeper away it slipped.
He wrote it off as the six beers he'd polished off, folded the picture, and put it back away in his bathroom cabinet.
The world hadn't heard of Stephanie Rogers in almost twenty years. She was dead. He was sure of it.