When something’s living well you can’t say die
"Bucky Barnes, you give that back!" you shouted, holding up your skirts as you chased the dark-haired boy down the sidewalk. At eleven years old, you were one grade behind your two best friends, the boys from Brooklyn, Steve Rogers and James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes. "Bucky!"
"Aw, c'mon, [Name]! I just want to read what you spend all day writing about!" Bucky called back, sending you a large grin over his shoulder before he started to shout out the first lines from your diary. "Yesterday, Steve and I sat under the tree for lunch! It was really nice and he gave me his butterscotch cookies because he knows they're my favorite! Steve is so sweet and I think I want to marry him someday!"
"Bucky, s-stop that! Don't read that!" you cried, running full out in your frantic need to reclaim your precious diary. Your cheeks were fiery red, burning with embarrassment, but Bucky r