Steve's Diary

March 12, 1937

Dear Diary,

I can't believe how old we are.... I mean, Bucky turned 20 on Wednesday and, we're going out.

I said that I probably wouldn't drink much... thinking it would affect how drunk I get seeing how lightweight I am.

The problem is, I don't remember the night at all. As in... I blacked out. It's all missing from my memory and it's kind of scaring me.

I'm scared of what I could have done while I was drunk... oh god.

—————

He fumbles with the keys trying to open the door to my place. I stand and watch with my and his bottle of beer in my hand.

He trips on the way in and nearly falls to the floor and I laugh at his clumsiness.

He spins around "h-hey!" He saying pointing at me. "You're you... you- you laughin' at, uh, at me?" He asked making his eyes get wide like a dopey drunk person would.

"Mm wha?" I chuckle.

"Donnn- donnnn't you be, uh... be laughin' a- mee Steeeeeve okie?" He mumbled, waving his pointed finger in the air drunkenly.

I smiled and tried to hold back my laughter but couldn't. He was, all of a sudden, insanely hilarious. I bursted our laughing and fell to the floor, holding my stomach and keeping my eyes closed st all costs.

He, then, started to laugh along with me. He crouched on the floor next to me, both of us completely cracked up over nothing.

He pulled me up as the laughing ceased and leaned me against the couch as he, himself, leaned against the table facing me.

"So... how ya doin'?" He asked, placing his hand on my knee and sounding like he had somehow magically sobered up in the last few minutes.

"Mmmm good... yea... I'm jus' great yup mhm, amaz.....ing actually," I attempted to say.

"You're totally hammered... how did that even... you're suuuuuuch a lightweight Stevie," he made fun of me.

"Am not!" I screamed. His hand shot at my face and clamped my mouth shut.

"Steeeeve!" He said loudly, "you gotta shhhhhhhhh.... it's 3 in the morning people are..." he switched to a whisper, "sleeeeepinggggg."

"Ohhhh... sorryyyyyy," I whispered back, putting my pointed finger on my lips.

I handed his drink back to him as I took I sip of mine. But he took it out of my hand and stood up. I watched him in confusion as he poured their contents down the sink and threw the bottles into the bin.

"What was that for?" I asked him, still a little groggy.

"You've been cut off, Steve. You're drunk and it's bad," he said, sitting down across from me again.

"Uh, I am not drunk, okay? I don't even drink..." I whispered, not even believing my own lie.

He made a face at me "right," he agreed.

I looked over at him and it was... well it was flat out weird. He was wishy and looking like he was moving... kinda blurry too. But I also felt this odd sensation like my skin was rippling and my veins were shaking and my blood was vibrating inside me. It was a sort of gravitational pull emanating from him that yanked me towards him even when I wasn't fully conscious of what was happening.