![]() ![]() They don’t actually care about helping people, but you do. Most men just join the war for the glory or the fight, Steve. You are the strongest and bravest man I’ve ever known. “I will never think of you as pathetic or useless. Silence sat in between them for a long moment, only interrupted by the occasional car passing by. I want to help my country! It’s… it’s pathetic that I can’t get in no matter how many times I apply.” “But I want to!” Steve’s eyes shot up to meet Bucky’s. It just means you have a different purpose in life than-” “Just because you aren’t fighting in a war doesn’t make you useless or a coward. “That isn’t true,” Bucky said, bending down to be level with Steve. He looked tiny in comparison to his friend. And where will I be? Stuck here being useless.” Steve let himself sink onto the floor, arms wrapped around his knees. You’re going to leave for the war in only a few weeks. I can’t - I can’t just sit here while you go be a hero. “I… just wanted to help,” Steve muttered. ![]() ![]() It was taking all his effort just to keep himself upright, even with his hand grasping the bricks behind him. Steve looked down at himself to see himself covered in his own blood, deep purple bruises showing through the rips of his shirt. If anything, you’re much worse off than he is.” “I just gave him a good knock to the back of the skull. “No, he isn’t dead.” Bucky shook his head and bent down, grabbing the weapon and sheathing it in his own pocket. His attacker was on the ground, knife still in hand. The scrawny man looked up to see his best friend, Bucky, standing before him. “Steve, you really got to stop doing this.” “Shi-” The man was cut off abruptly, followed by a loud thud. Not being on the front page of some newspaper for everyone to gossip about. Is this really how you die? By some street scum? You were supposed to die saving your country, goddammit. Some hero you are, Rogers.Īnticipating the worst, Steve squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head away. He backed up against the brick wall of the alleyway, looking around for someone - anyone - to help him. “Wait, wait-” Steve’s voice cracked on the second word, only making him sound weaker and more utterly pathetic. Out of his still-unsteady vision, Steve caught the metal shine of a kitchen knife being slid out from the thief’s pocket. “I’m gonna do your dear mother in heaven a favor and do what she should’ve done years ago.” The man laughed, his voice dark and wicked. He’d decided that if he couldn’t join the war, he’d do everything in his power to be a hero in other ways. Against all his better judgments, he was determined to get the necklace the thief had taken from an elderly woman back. Steve awkwardly stumbled forward in an attempt to throw a jab at his attacker. “You know damn well you aren’t going to win this.” “Give up, fuckin’ queer,” the man warned, taking a threatening step closer. The man in front of him seemed to shift and sway, the world turning blurry from fresh tears he couldn’t hold back. His lungs ached as he desperately gasped for air, struggling to stay on his feet as the world spun around him. His whole body screamed for him to stop, lay down, and give up. Hot blood dripped from Steve’s mouth, blending in with the night’s darkness as it cascaded down onto his filthy white shirt. ![]()
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