Leaving Home
The phone in Steve’s pocket started vibrating, switching the music he was listening to through his headphones to his ringtone that he hadn’t changed since he was thirteen. Cringing at the heavily auto-tuned song, he looked at the caller ID and accepted the call, “Hey, Bruce.” he greeted cheerfully, “I’m literally, like, just round the corner... Yeah, yeah I just passed the butchers–I’ll be about five minutes… No, there’s no need,” Steve sighed as his best friend asked to come help him with his portfolio, “Bruce, it only has my summer assignments in it. It’s not like I’ve lugged three drawing boards, my tub of paints and Michelangelo's David a mile to school. I’m fine–really.”
Steve chuckled as he finished the walk to school, the conversation he had with Bruce entertaining him more than his music would have. Steve didn't seem to find entering year eleven at secondary school as nerve racking as others; he liked to pride himself on the fact that, despite the many things physically wrong with him, he rarely got stressed from school. When he arrived at his form room, it was easy to spot Bruce in the corner of the room, his atom-embellished backpack saving Steve’s seat.
“Do you think I could afford to take Fridays off?” Bruce asked, hearing Steve sit down beside him. He had a large red folder open on his desk, the pages filled with colour-coded charts, “Or maybe just a couple of maths questions just to take the edge off?”
“Bruce, you do know our first mock exams aren't until Christmas, right?” Steve reassured, sliding the folder across the table to his side.
“Hey!”
“You can have this at the end of the day.” Steve teased, putting the folder in ‘their corner’ of the room, on top of the pillow for Steve’s naps at break and lunch when he needed them. “So, apart from needlessly stressing over exams, what did you get up to in summer?”
“Hey! I do not stress and it is not needless! I'm not going to have Tony Stark buy his way into being top of the class again!”
“Can't argue with that.”
“So, guys! Senior year!” Tony cheered, leaning back in his seat and kicking his feet onto the table.
Bucky looked at him quizzically, “You do know that’s an American thing, yeah? And anyway, it’s the year before they go off to uni– we still have two more years after this one.”
“Fine, fine. My equivalent of senior year. I’m getting out of this shithole as soon as I can.”
With that, Bucky had to agree with him. Although he was planning on doing A Levels, he wasn’t planning on staying any longer than necessary at his current school. The place had really gone downhill since the change in leadership. Their form tutor seemed entirely unimpressed with the bunch of adolescents lounging about on their desks as he started taking registration. “Barnes,” the teacher called, slumped in his desk chair.
“Here,” Bucky replied, pushing Tony’s feet off the table. Tony flashed an appalled look, clutching his hand over his heart in mock distress. As the teacher continued calling out the names, Bucky leant over to Tony, whispering, “Where’s Thor?”
As if on cue, the battered door of the form room lurched. After another heave it flung open, revealing a dishevelled Thor, blazer slung over his shoulder, tie not yet knotted. The only thing that was remotely respectable in his attire was the red sweatband keeping his hair in place.
“Nice of you to join us, Mr. Odinson.” the form tutor grumbled sarcastically.
“And very nice it is to be here!” Thor replied brightly, waving his protein shake to the man as a sign of greeting, “Friends!” he called to Tony and Bucky, bounding over to sit with them.
“So, my glistening hunk of a friend,” Tony started as Thor swung a chair onto the end of their desk, “what were you doing?”
“Well, I went to the gym at five as usual, then I got home to find out my loathsome toad of a brother was still straightening his hair.” Thor moaned, taking a large gulp of his drink before slamming it down onto the table, “I was running late as it was.”
“What is even in that?” Bucky asked, gesturing towards the protein shake.
“Eggs, protein powder, some milk,” Thor replied, violently shaking the plastic bottle, “the blood of my enemies.”
Bucky raised an eyebrow, “ Raw eggs?–” Thor nodded as he chugged down some more, “–You’re going to get salmonella.”
Steve was the last one to walk out of the classroom, waiting for his class to push through the doorway, as if they were trying to escape Mr. Rumlow’s history lesson. Steve looked ahead, taking a deep breath as he saw the masses of students he would have to slalom past to get to the lunch hall where Bruce was. Unfortunately for Steve, him being so small, navigating through all the children was harder than he remembered it. Caught up amidst the new year sevens, he was unceremoniously shoved to the side by group of goons barging into the hall. As he turned to see who it was, he noticed the unmistakable drawl of Tony Stark.
“I know I say this every year, but, God , do I hate year sevens.” Tony said snobbishly, nudging Bucky who turned behind. Most of the faces seemed to appear in a blur, but there was one who always appeared in focus. The look of disgust on Steve’s face dislodged an old memory in Bucky’s mind that he couldn’t forget.
“...There’s no use denying it, Buck. I’m not an idiot–I know you’re ignoring me.” Steve had said, looking up indignantly at his old friend, “Why?”
Bucky swallowed, pissed off that he’d finally been called out on his actions. He hadn’t meant to hurt Steve, but even still he found himself saying, “I can’t been seen hanging around with people, like you, Stevie.”
Steve recoiled, a hostile look gracing his features, “What? Because I’m a faggot? Is that it, James? I heard your ‘friends’ talking about me.” Steve turned to go, “Thanks so much for sticking up for me.”
“They were just joking!” Bucky pleaded, reaching to grab Steve’s shirt, “Steve, wait!”
But it was to late, Steve had already gone, hollering, “Don’t talk to me again, Buck. Friends wouldn’t pull this kind of shit.”
Bucky watched despondently as Steve hopped over the small brick wall, separating their driveways. He jolted slightly as the front door slammed, his friendship with Steve disappearing with the small boy behind it. The look of disgust on Steve’s face burnt into Bucky’s brain.