A/N: This takes place in an AU that my friend told me about, where you know your soul mate's first name.
James.
The name had been rattling around Steve's head for as long as he could remember. When he was very young, he thought his name was James.
When he told his parents about the name, they exchanged uneasy looks. That name, they told him, was the name of his soul mate. But they told him not to tell anybody, because they wouldn't understand.
Steve met a lot of James as he grew up, but none of them struck him quite the way he thought a soul mate should. But he knew that, even if he did find the James, they wouldn't be able to be together. The 1930s was a dangerous time to be gay. Steve was constantly worried that someone would find out somehow and beat him, or even kill him.
Apart from his parents, the only person Steve felt safe around was his friend Bucky. They lived down the street from each other but went to different schools. Bucky insisted on spending all his free time with Steve and taking care of him through his bouts of illness.
As they grew older, Steve's heart began to flutter when he was around Bucky, and it wasn't just his asthma. But he knew, even if he could be with Bucky, he shouldn't. His soul mate's name was James.
***
"Bucky!" Steve screamed, leaning as far forward as he could with his arm outstretched. "Grab my hand!"
Bucky's grip on the damaged train car was already tenuous. As he reached for Steve's hand, his fingers began to slip off the bar he was holding on to.
"No!" Steve lunged forward and made a desperate grab for Bucky. His fingers snagged on the chain around Bucky's neck.
SNAP!
And suddenly Bucky wasn't there anymore. Steve was clinging onto the damaged train car alone, with only Bucky's dog tags as company.
Steve felt like someone had stabbed into his chest and torn his heart out. Bucky was dead. He had fallen off a train, and Steve felt like it was his fault. If he had leaned forward just a little bit more, if he hadn't asked Bucky to be part of his commando unit, he would still be alive.
Steve wanted to curl up on the train's cold, hard floor and sob for the rest of eternity. But he knew he couldn't do that. He was still on a mission, and he needed to finish it. He wiped the tears from his cheeks and tucked the dog tags deep inside his pocket, where they would be safe.
Steve didn't have the courage to look at the dog tags until it was nearly dawn the next morning. He'd been up all night, unable to sleep. Alcohol hadn't had any effect on him. He'd tried to draw, which usually calmed him down enough to sleep, but Bucky's face kept popping up in his sketches.
He sat on his bed, turning the tags over and over in his hands. They were scratched and worn from all the missions they'd ran over the years. He brought them closer to his face.
Barnes, James.
Steve dropped the tags in shock. James...James...Bucky's name was James? Of course Steve had known that Bucky wasn't his given name, but he had always assumed it was short for something like Robert, or maybe even William. Never had he imagined that Bucky's name would be James. How could he? Bucky was the only name he'd ever called himself, and that was what Bucky's parents called him. Bucky. Not James.
Steve stooped to pick up the dropped dog tags, and then he was on the floor crying, hugging the tags close to himself, mourning for his Bucky, mourning for his lost soul mate James.
A/N: Alright, I get it, it's weird that Steve thought Bucky's real name was Robert or William or some shit! I looked it up when I first wrote this, and I saw that Bucky could be a nickname for those names (I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure that's what I read). Please stop commenting about it, I got it the first fifteen times.
