˚ ༘ 𝕿𝐖𝐎 𝕲𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒 彡
꒰‧⁺ ⇢ ❝ 𝒞𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝒪𝙽𝙴 ¡! ❞ ˊˎ
- ̗̀ ๑❪( ◌⁺ ˖˚ ಿ sadly, always.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

𝕽𝑨𝒀𝑴𝑶𝑵𝑫 𝑭𝑶𝑺𝑺𝑼𝑴 𝑵𝑬𝑹𝑽𝑶𝑼𝑺𝑳𝒀 SUCKED ON THE SCARRED FLESH OF HIS BOTTOM LIP AS HE ADJUSTED THE PEAKED DRESS CAP PERCHED ON TOP OF HIS HEAD. He felt like a child once more, his mother forcing him to shrug on a bundle of thick winter coats in the store that made him feel like a squishy marshmallow.

"Would you stop that?" A light laugh came from his side. A hand smacked his adjusting one away from his head before setting it reassuringly on his shoulder in consolation after. "You look great. Couldn't be a better fit."

"I think the guy gave me a size too big." Raymond scoffed as he tugged at the cotton material of his military dress uniform. He grimaced at the gap in which he felt between the fabric and his body underneath. "I bet he did it on purpose too. He never liked me much."

Bucky Barnes chortled a laugh at his friend's words, looking down at him with a smirk. "Yeah, maybe that's because you threw rocks at his windows once!"

"Now, don't act like you didn't help!" Was the boy's only defence as they crossed the street together. Some strangers sent acknowledging, respectful nods their way, which was reciprocated. Raymond shook his head in disdain. "Wise guy thought I would see him kissing my mum one day, then out shopping with his wife the next and let him off the hook? Fat chance."

"You almost got us caught when you tripped and fell. I had to come in and save you." Bucky reminded in a boastful manner, looking proud and prideful in his military suit that fitted his broad physique. "Steve almost had a heart attack."

"Well then, consider it good practice for you, Sergeant Barnes." Raymond teased, playing with the end cuffs of his sleeves as he turned to his friend; one side of his lip raised just a bit, a faint smile despite the odds.

Bucky could only snicker at the mention of his newly earned title, his head ducking down. Behind the flap of his hat, his friend thought he detected the pink dust of a blush covering his face. The Barnes male nudged his side. "Come off it."

"It's true! You're going to be saving men left and right on that field, Bucket. Mark my words." Raymond promised, his hand waving like the flag of freedom that symbolised what they were fighting for.

"Yeah, well hopefully you won't be included in that lineup." There was a new edge to Bucky's tone, his blue eyes giving a pointed look when he noticed that his friend did not meet his gaze. Instead, he scanned the brick walls like they were some new invention created by Howard Stark himself. "I'm serious."

"It's a war, Bucky." Raymond reminded him as if their whole lives weren't currently being shaped by it; the suits they existed in today were not only a symbol of their pride but of their naivety as well. "I'd be lucky to make it to the nurse tents with all my limbs still attached."

"Hey, don't talk like that." a sudden hand swept out to halt the Fossum boy's walk, Bucky Barnes stepping in front of his friend with his hand still resting on the centre of his chest. His friend studied him like a puzzle, trying to fit all the pieces together. It didn't take much examining for Bucky to conclude; he knew Raymond like the back of his hand. "It won't happen. You're coming back home, Ray."

"Yeah, in a casket." The beat of silence that passed was an answer in itself as Raymond continued down the road, turning to face his closest friend of many years. There was no point lying to him; Bucky could detect his lies from a mile away. "You know I can't ignore the possibility. Millions die in war, families lose loved ones. Me and Steve know that all too well."

"I know, I know." Bucky lamented, his eyes a reflection of the melancholy feeling he was harbouring inside himself as he remembered the loss his two best friends had had to endure all because of war. The deaths took a toll on him too, for he felt powerless in the era of his condolences.

Steve had lost his parents young, too young. His father, Joseph Rogers, was a member of the Infantry Regiment during the First World War. He was killed by a mustard gas attack, just a few months before his son was born. Sarah Rogers, Steve's mother, raised him alone until he was eighteen when she succumbed to tuberculosis. The youngest Rogers now lived alone, much to his friend's displeasure, but he could not be swayed.

It was suffocating to see a man soo good live a life so unfortunate, and it was even harder when you included Raymond in that mix

"I just don't want you going into this war thinking you're going to die. You know he wouldn't want that, Ray."

Raymond Fossum had lost his father at age seven, just a little boy. Larry Fossum left behind a wife and two children, the former left to face the struggle of raising two boys independently during a time when money and respect for women were scarce. Because of this, her eldest was always hesitant to leave her side.

After the death of his father, Raymond lost his bravery, and his sense of adventure; no one could blame him. His father was stuck in the 'war between wars' as he set off to train soldiers should another fight as vast as the World War commence. That's probably what hurt the most: the fact that he wasn't fighting on the front lines. Out of all the serving places to be stationed, his was arguably the safest and yet he still lost his life.

Larry Fossum's arrival home had been within a white (though it was discoloured from the mud and blood that caked it) sheet with a letter solidifying his end, and dispassionate soldiers sending their regards.

Raymond swore he would never set foot in a US Recruiting and Induction Centre ever in his life.

While Steve and Bucky travelled within New York to try their luck and enlist when they first received word in art class that America was now a part of WWII, Raymond lingered in Brooklyn. It wasn't his dream to chase; he didn't want to be a soldier, nor had he ever sought to be after his father's passing.

Raymond couldn't stop his friends from enlisting, no matter how hard he tried. He knew Steve and Bucky wanted this; it was their personal choice, just as it had been his father's. This thinking didn't make the reality of it any easier to swallow.

As much as he tried to be supportive of their decision, Raymond was secretly relieved when he learned that Steve - much to the blond's displeasure - was classified as 4F and rejected due to his long list of health issues that made him illegible for service. His short height and small build didn't help his case either.

James Buchanan Barnes, however, was a whole different story. Not only was he an excellent athlete, but he also was an overachiever who excelled in any task given: mental and physical. He was simply amazing. It would be a foolish move on America's part to turn him down. So, if you asked Raymond, seeing his best friend being accepted as a soldier serving for the United States Army came as no big surprise.

That isn't to say the young man was immune to such shock, for he felt it not long after his friend's admission.

Raymond wasn't dumb; he knew of the struggles that his country was facing. All hands were needed on deck, and to ignore that was selfish and ignorant. These facts were not lost on Raymond, who didn't sleep well at night knowing he turned a blind eye to something so important, but he just couldn't find it in himself to follow the crowd.

For, as honourable as the title may be, being a soldier meant nothing to Raymond Fossum if he was dead.

Pretending that he lived in some fantasy world, where his choices wouldn't catch up to him, was imprudent behaviour - childish even. Just about every man walking was liable for military service, and Raymond was no exception.

He wasn't like Steve, but he was no Bucky either; boringly normal would be the best way to describe Raymond, who was just a boy locked into an inevitable war.

What hurt most to think about was his mother; poor Nancy Fossum. She already had to grieve one member of her small, tight-knight family due to the casualties of war. Life became a matter of hustling and adapting after that, and she was able to raise two young, healthy, active boys out of luck because of it, but for a serving price.

The Fossum family weren't swimming in money and riches; barely anyone was at this time. They managed, but with some occasional haggling. It wasn't unusual to see the family of three wearing the same select group of clothes, their "new" garments regularly originating from second-hand shops.

The food on their plate was enough but minimal. Their house liveable, yet compact. They weren't rich, despite not being poor either. It was a life set in the middle of a scale, tipping to neither side, and Raymond was fine with that. So long as he had his family and friends, that was all the boy needed.

However, the balance of the Fossum family's wealth would be put to trial when a fine for the eldest son's complete disregard to serve his country came to light. Raymond had flown too close to the sun and had finally met his match. He had a good run, but it was over now; time to stop fooling himself.

Because the truth of the matter is that the Fossum family didn't even have half of the funds demanded. They grew despondent over time because it simply was an unattainable goal to have. The family just simply didn't live that luxuriously, and Raymond Fossum had dodged his calling long enough.

Bucky became his main support system, a smiling face in a blurry, hectic crowd. He made sure he was by his friend's side whenever possible at Camp McCoy in Wisconsin, where they underwent sniper training during the winter. As fate would have it, the two childhood best friends were even paired up in the same Infantry Regiment.

The fact that he would be with Bucky during yet another World War became a horrific mixture of reassurance and worry for Raymond: a deadly combination. Of course, he knew that the male could handle himself - better than he ever could - yet the same was always said about his father . . . and Raymond didn't have the strength to go through that kind of loss ever again.

"Dad never liked wars." When he finally responded, Raymond was still trying to break out of his head; he wished to rid such thinking from his skull, especially with his friend being so hopeful.

"I don't think anyone does, Ray." One step was all it took for Bucky to be closer, wrapping an arm around the boy's slumped shoulders as they walked side-by-side together in perfect sync.

Raymond found himself scoffing at the sentence. "Steve sure seems to." He barked out a faint laugh because that's all he felt he could do with the truth. Finding humour in the idea of Steve trying to become the very thing that Raymond didn't seem like the best option; his only option. "He must be the only kid in Brooklyn who isn't going to war and actually wants to."

"Well, that's Steve for you." Bucky shrugged, not at all surprised. They passed a newspaper stand on their way, the bold headline displayed catching the young sergeant's attention. Snatching up a copy, his bright blue eyes scanned the print in curiosity before producing a grin while he shoved the paper into his best friend's chest. "Let us just hope he's not stubborn enough to miss out on visiting the future with us."

Raymond's eyebrows furrowed - more out of confusion than intrigue - as he took the paper in his hands. Unfolding it, he was met with a large title that read: 'WORLD EXPEDITION OF TOMORROW 1943'

There was a picture below the headline, most likely of the expedition. Raymond wasn't swayed by it as much as his friend was, the look of confusion still staining his face. "This is how you want to spend your last night? In a science museum?"

Bucky didn't appear peeved by his reply, maintaining his grin as he turned to his friend. "Only if you're up for it." Raymond remained unresponsive, scorning down at the paper with a scrunched-up nose. Noticing his hesitance, Bucky tried coaxing him in a lighter tone. "Come on, Ray! When are we ever going to get the chance to see something like this again? It'll be fun!"

Raymond pondered the idea, more for Bucky's sake than his. Truth be told, he didn't care what he spent his last night doing; it didn't matter to him. How could he enjoy today in Brooklyn with the knowledge that he would be shipped out into a bloodbath the next? The answer: he couldn't.

However, as much as he didn't care, Bucky and Steve sure did. They wouldn't allow their good friend to spend the day wallowing in his misfortune, and he didn't necessarily want to either. But, no matter how hard the boy tried - genuinely so - he just couldn't find that elation they needed from him.

Raymond wouldn't allow his shortcomings to hinder and spoil Bucky's last night; even the mere thought of doing so was callous. Bucky deserved to be happy today, as he did every day.

"I don't know," Raymond trailed off timorously as his blue eyes bore into the paper still in hand.

"Come on," Bucky's tone was more pleading than suggesting now, back bowing as if his friend's hesitance weighed him down. "I promise it'll be fun! Connie even said that she's got two friends who would get along perfectly with you and Steve!"

Raymond sharply ceased in his footsteps, lifting his head from the newspaper for the first time to give his friend the stink eye. "Nope." Was all he said before returning the paper to Bucky, striding away swiftly.

His friend followed after him like a lost puppy, his beady blue eyes beseeching him to agree. "It's been years since you last went on a date, Raymond! Don't you think it's time you put yourself out there? A triple date could be fun!"

"You know I'm not looking for anyone right now." Raymond tried to rationalise, playing it off as ordinary disinterest. His attention drew to the wet, slimy walls of the alleyways they passed; he found them to be far more interesting than his hypothetical date.

"You haven't been looking for the last five years!" Bucky expressed, throwing his arms around in insistence. His friend just kept walking, causing him to roll his eyes. "I haven't seen you kiss a girl since high school - let alone date one!"

"And for good reason! Look at the lives we're living! We're about to go to war, Bucky! We're already leaving our families behind, the last thing we need is us adding a girl into that mix." Raymond knew his words rang true, but that wasn't the core issue that stemmed from his hesitancy to agree: not concerning the girl part, at least.

So, pretending seemed like the best way - the safest way - to hide his reality. If he unveiled his sincerity, he worried that there would be no one beside him to lie to in the first place. And Raymond Fossum would rather be a liar than a loner.

But concealed truth was a cannibalistic secret. It eats away at you until it reaches the bone, and then some more until you find that every inch of your body is devoured. It was all-consuming, an ineluctable ache. You simply couldn't avoid the fact that a part of you, a big part, is gone. You are no longer whole. You are no longer you.

That's the effect that pretending to like and be interested in girls had on Raymond Fossum; he simply didn't feel like himself.

His whole life, he knew something was amiss, like a piece that didn't fit the puzzle. At first, the Fossum merely assumed that he was just too young to understand what love truly was, and what it felt like to be in love romantically: a love other than familial. Though, that argument was never deemed good enough for Raymond.

His mother always told him that when you're in love, you just know. She had felt it with his father, as he had with her. Heck, even his younger brother, Dennis, had experienced such ecstasy with women.

So why was Raymond feeling it differently?

He had felt it. Of course, he felt it; he just didn't know that it was love. How could he? After all, it was a male who had exposed him to such a feeling. And, worst of all, it was one of his best friends.

He realised it after one of their trips together to Rockaway Beach. They had ended up being forced to ride back towards Brooklyn on the back of a freezer truck, as they had used all their remaining train money to buy hot dogs, and Bucky had inadvertently spent three dollars trying to win a stuffed bear for Dolores - or "Dot" as he had called her.

Steve was first to notice Raymond's offbeat behaviour, his offer of a hotdog was blatantly refused as he sulked near the sea by himself. The blond tried his best to console the boy, but nothing helped . . . until Bucky came back.

"Well, someone doesn't look happy." The familiar voice chuckling near Raymond caused him to look up at the sound, Bucky crossed over the sandy beach to join him by the rocks near the sea. Raymond didn't speak, staring at the calm ripples in the sea's salty waves instead until the Barnes boy gently nudged his side, giving him his classic boyish grin. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"Shouldn't you be trying to impress Dolores right now?" Raymond asked, almost robotically. He didn't mean for Dolores' name to be spoken with such spite, but it was too late to change his tone as his friend merely rolled his blue eyes at his bluntness.

"Nah. I'd much rather know what's bothering you." Bucky scooted closer, studying him like a location that didn't want to be found. Quietness was his only form of the answer once again, bringing a loudly heaved sigh out of Bucky. "Ok then."

Raymond was taken off guard when he was suddenly shoved forwards, arms flapping like a flightless bird before crashing into the ocean waves below and disrupting its peace. He emerged with a frosty expression a few seconds later, his clothes sticking to him like a second skin as he whipped the hair out of his face to draw full attention to the now grinning, chuckling Bucky Barnes.

That was all it took for Raymond's lips to slide up in a smile, scoffing under his breath as he waded through the water. "Oh, you're so dead."

The Fossum boy briskly launched forward towards his friend and secured a hold on his forearms, drawing the Barnes boy back into the water with him as their bodies slapped against the surface and carried them under.

A playful wrestling match commenced when they met the surface of the water. Bucky had his arm swung around Raymond's neck to hold him in place as his hand messily waved over the boy's hair, messing it up even more. "No! Bucky!"

"Let me know what's going through that head of yours!" Was all his friend commanded as they continued to roll around in the cold water that refreshed their summer-kissed skin.

Raymond then managed to free himself when he splashed some water on Bucky's face, using that time to slip out of the hold and dunk him back underwater. He was smiling now, they both were, completely unaware that a third party was watching them.

Steve happily observed them from a distance, hot dog in hand as he watched the pair fondly. He didn't plan on joining them; this was their moment. Besides, he didn't want to deal with a journey back home spent in nothing but damp, soggy clothes like those idiots would be.

So he just listened to their joy and kept an eye on them as they splashed water at one another in frantic arm movements, smiles as wide as the Thames crossing their faces. The summer sun reflected their carefree spirits, letting them enjoy this time together in an illuminating ray of light.

Steve laughed aloud when Raymond abruptly dived for Bucky, crashing into him as the pair toppled over into the water with a loud splash as frantic wavelets swam atop the chaos. He caught on to the incredulous threats Bucky was exclaiming to a now giggling Raymond as the former swam forwards and lifted their friend up and across his shoulders, the Fossum boy trying to wriggle off of him as the Barnes faked dropping him back into the sea a few times.

"Bucky?" A feminine shout and the struggling sound of heels in the sand gained the young Roger's attention, whirling around to see a redheaded woman tripping her way over to them on the beach. Dolores. His mind instantly clicked. She hadn't noticed her date until she heard his howling laughter near the water, her pearly whites showcasing as she shuffled over. "Bucky, there you are!"

Bucky Barnes spun around at the call of his name, his smile broadening when he recognised the girl. "Dolores! Hey!" He greeted cheerfully, Raymond still slung over his back.

"I was wondering where you ran off to." Dolores giggled in a tone that even Raymond had to admit was pleasant to the ears, her cherry-red lips somehow brightening her smile. "I heard the line for the ferris wheel is shortening up. If you want, we can share a cart and go together."

Her long, curled eyelashes fluttered against her rosy cheeks a few times, her delicate hands folded as her dress and hair swayed peacefully in the wind. She looked like a doll made out of the finest porcelain, her angelic eyes looking at the boy with a clear motive in mind. Any guy would be crazy to turn such a girl down, especially if she was the one offering.

So Raymond frowned, his mood punctured and emptying back to its previous state, and accepted the loss. He was fully prepared for Bucky to throw him off his shoulder in a hurry to swim towards the girl, leaving him alone in the ocean once more.

How could compete with that? Raymond thought as he gazed at an awaiting Dolores, not a single flaw detected in the burning light above them. Every girl his friend associated himself with was a gem, wanted by many and always dazzling. They shone brighter than Raymond ever could in Bucky's blue eyes.

The Fossum was halfway through lowering himself to access an easy fall when Bucky spoke, his grip tightening. "No thanks, Dot. I'm good."

Raymond wondered if he gave himself whiplash with how fast his head turned, eyes up to the size of saucers. Sceptically, he analysed the boy's features; they were all genuine regarding the fact that he wanted to stay exactly where he was.

Even Steve was taken aback by his words, as was Dolores. She looked like a deer caught in headlights, frozen and stunned with her eyes reflecting surprise. "O - Oh." She stumbled, her voice cracking vaguely as she nodded despite the confusion within it. "Okay then . . . I guess I'll . . . see you around then, James."

Raymond could swallow a mouthful of water with how agape his mouth was as he watched the pretty girl filter out of their sight like a distinguishing flame, waiting until its last flicker before he dared to move. He struggled but eventually managed to wrangle his way off of his friend's back as he dipped into the water once more. "What on earth are you doing?"

Bucky appeared lost, his head tilting just an inch as his eyebrows drew together. "What?"

"She was going to take you to the ferris wheel - alone, might I add! I thought you liked her!" Raymond stressed to him with a frown, waving his hands around like a bird with stiff wings.

"I-I did . . . kinda," Bucky trailed off awkwardly, struggling to explain himself. To him, it wasn't even a hard decision: to stay with Raymond, or go off with Dot. She was a lovely gal, but they just didn't seem to connect over anything other than the fact that people thought they looked good together.

Trying to impress her was a tiring task. Her laughter was never genuine, their chatter was long lost, and her face sprinkled with disgust at the offer of carnival food; the very food that both himself, Steve, and Raymond happily bit into.

At the end of the day, Bucky came here with his friends to have a good time, and he didn't want to spend the whole time pretending to be someone he wasn't. With Raymond, he didn't need to put on any facade; it was easy to be around him. It came naturally, almost instinctively.

Raymond's reaction to his response was delayed due to his initial shock, eventually huffing out a laugh of utter disbelief. "Is that because you spent all the money you earned this week on her?" He took the following silence as an answer. "You run a tight ship, Bucket."

"Only with some people." The dark-haired man shrugged, not saying much else on the matter. His beautiful eyes seemed to dance with the sun's showering light, almost identical to the water below him; Raymond could easily get lost in them, but Bucky was tearing off his white button-up too quickly for him to do so.

Raymond scolded himself for staring. He should've looked at the waves instead, admiring the way they sparkled upon their surface instead of the way small ropes poked through the skin of his best friend's muscles with an unintentional flex. The material was already tight on his skin anyway, doing little coverage for him, but there was something about Bucky's abs being on full display that made him feel different like he shouldn't be there to see it, mainly because he didn't like the way he felt when he did.

It was heavy, like gym weights, and dropped onto his chest with a pounding thud. His heart rested underneath it, recognising the familiar feeling. It was like leaves returning to the trees after winter: a never-ending cycle.

His body ran hot with the feeling and, despite being submerged in cold water this time round, it didn't feel any different compared to the last time he felt it. If anything, it was stronger, and harder to shake.

It played tricks on him, creating the illusion of him being a kid again, hearing the distant call of a young Bucky Barnes shouting after him as they played tag all around the fields of the playground. That had been the very first time Raymond had felt such a feeling; his conscience wouldn't let him forget it.

There it was again. That feeling. Oh, how scared little Raymond was of it. He was just ten years old, an oblivious kid who ran home into his mother's arms with the grave concern that he was sick.

Raymond used to be naïve enough to believe that his mother had superpowers; that's why she was so quick to understand what was wrong with him. That's why she always knew what to do, and what to say.

She told him that he wasn't sick, which eased him but not for long. When she elaborated, telling him that he had "butterflies" in his tummy and that it was a sign of romantic feelings towards someone, he was afraid. He was very, very afraid.

His mother tried to relate to him, sharing the tale of how she had felt the same way with his father, but even ten-year-old Raymond knew she couldn't connect with him; not entirely. That was a power she did not have.

Men and women. That was Raymond's mother's experience with love; it was pretty much everyone's. It was all Raymond had known, all he'd seen, so why? Why was it different for him? Why couldn't it be a girl from his class? Or a girl he saw casually passing by in the street? Why did it have to be his best friend? Why did it have to be Bucky?

These were questions not even his mother could save him from; no one could. Even today, as he stood frozen in the Coney Island water, he still didn't know why. All the years (filled with lasting feelings) granted him with was the realisation that his mother hadn't been wrong. He was in love. He was just in love with his childhood best friend, James Buchanan Barnes.

By the time Bucky folded his shirt and turned his way, Raymond was still staring. Thankfully, he took it as a sign of disbelief. "What?" He asked through a light laugh that even angels would be jealous of.

Raymond was appreciative of the fact that his brain had already saved up a response. "Are you really going to walk around like that?" He asked as he and Bucky climbed out of the water, physiques soaking wet as droplets of water patted the crusty sand beneath them.

"What? You don't like me shirtless?" Bucky teased, his shirt now slung over his shoulder as he strode close by his side. It was amazing how oblivious he was to all the eyes suddenly settling on the pair, females ogling at the shirtless Barnes from miles away.

Rolling his eyes, while also ducking his head low to disguise his now reddened cheeks, Raymond stomped over to where Steve sat by all their discarded belongings. He did not answer Bucky's question. "Here." He held out his jacket, the one he had worn on the way over here, and offered it to his friend with little eye connection. "Put this on."

The Barnes male seemed indifferent to the offer, seizing the jacket with no hesitation before pulling it on his person. With Raymond being a tiny bit taller than his friend, it was more fitted than his regular clothes but still covered him up nicely - though a part of his skin peeked out against the fabric as they gathered their stuff and went on their way.

The rest of the night was spent by Raymond silently tagging along to Bucky and Steve's - more so Bucky's - wild antics. They made sure to include him as they paraded through the island, the sky painting itself into darkness sooner than expected. Not much time had passed before Steve wisely suggested they make their way back, a worrying edge to his tone.

Raymond and Bucky didn't take much convincing, agreeing as they headed for the train station for the second time. It seemed luck was not on their side as a medium-sized sign stopped them in their tracks, the ticket prices displayed in bold yellow paint.

Raymond sucked the air into his teeth, savouring the chilling effect it gave him as he turned to his stumped friends awkwardly. ". . . Anyone got any spare change?"

Bucky held his hands up in surrender. "Don't look at me. I spent my last three bucks trying to win that stuffed bear for Dolores."

"I knew those hotdogs were a bad idea," Steve whispered, sounding ashamed of himself as the three of them watched other passengers pile into the awaiting train while they remained on the platform.

Bucky was silent as Steve and Raymond weighed over their options, stressing for the most part until he suddenly spoke up. "Come on!" He waved at them in a signal to follow, striding away excitedly as he made a beeline for some parked trucks that were tucked away behind the station.

The two boys followed him despite being lost as to what he was thinking, looking like a pair of ducklings following the leader one by one as Bucky led them to the vehicle which was miraculously left unlocked. Raymond kind of wished it hadn't been, however, when a cold gust of icy wind hit him.

"Freezer trucks?" Raymond's words came out chilled, but not the relaxing term: the cold term. His arms crossed over themselves for warmth, an action Steve soon mirrored.

"Yep!" Was all the unfazed Barnes said to his spectators before grabbing onto the side of the truck and hoisting himself up and into the vehicle. Once completed, he turned around to find his friends hadn't moved an inch. Their grumpy expressions made him roll his head back with a tired groan. "It's either this or the long walk back to Brooklyn. Your move."

Both continued to appear unsure, Raymond seeming the most swayed out of the two as he glanced at Steve in heartfelt concern. The Fossum remained conscious of his blond companion's asthmatic nature, aware of how pretty much everyone in the world was out to get the Rogers boy.

This didn't go missed by Bucky, who held his hand out for the boy so he could help him into the truck. "Come on, Ray! Trust me?"

Raymond studied his hand, every palm line and carved wrinkles like an architect would with his sculptures. His blue eyes then took the flight up to meet the face belonging to the extended hand, a smile wriggling its way onto his features at the sound of the familiar words. With no hesitation, he took his outstretched hand in his own. "Sadly, always."

Once Raymond and Bucky helped a struggling Steve roll his way up, they hid behind the crates to not be detected in the hopes of hitching a ride. They all collectively held their breaths when the distant sounds of workmen chattering came closer, the rattling and loading of more crates ringing out before the sound of the panel closing to secure the deliveries clicked shut; they were in.

The three boys jolted when the engines kicked to a start, startled by the sudden action as their minds jumped to the immediate fear of being caught red-handed and booted out. Thankfully, no danger was in their path as they all simultaneously let out puffs of relief when nothing happened.

"You sure this will take us all the way back to Brooklyn?" Steve concernedly checked, a bit more hesitant to make himself comfy unlike the rest of his friends.

"Positive." Bucky confidently answered with a grunt as he sat down with a sound of relaxation and solace erupting from his pink lips. "I've done this more times than I'd care to admit. We'll be fine. Until then, don't wake me until we get there." He crossed his long legs comfortably, leaning back against the truck walls as his eyes soon closed in contempt.

"You're really wanting to go to sleep? Now?" Raymond fought off his laughter as he wrung out his wet clothes that didn't help keep him warm in the slightest, hoping it wouldn't make too much noise and ruin their perfect hideout.

The Barnes boy peeked just one cheeky eye open, nuzzling his cheek into the jacket he wore as if it were a blanket. "Yep. I'm beat." As if on demand, his lips teared open in a stretching yawn. His eyes faded with every slow blink. "Feel free to join me."

"I'm good. Thanks though." Raymond had to chuckle at the boy's bold and shameless words. He admired the way Bucky had no filter when it came to him and Steve. He was very much so an open book with the people he cared about, and he felt honoured to be included in that group. Raymond's only wish was that he could be as open with Bucky as he was with him. "Sweet dreams, Bucket."

Bucky scoffed when he felt the pressure of hands ruffling his wet, brown locks as he began to doze off. It didn't take long before he was slipping off into sleep, having no time to conjure up a witty response as light snores carried through the atmosphere.

Raymond wore a fond smile, not that he noticed, but anyone with eyes could see its tenderness. He watched the boy like he learned something spectacular with every second he spent gazing at him.

The ride grew bumpy due to a rocky path, causing the three friends to unwillingly sway to its rhythm. Steve and Raymond exchanged a short glance from across the vehicle, both wondering if such a ruckus could wake the undefeated force that was a sleeping Bucky Barnes.

Neither were shocked when the young man didn't stir, his bundled form jumping with the truck's movements like wobbly jelly on a still plate.

The wheel must've struck a particularly big rock or something as a high bump rose them from their butts for a millisecond, Raymond feeling a new pressure press itself on his right shoulder when he was reseated soon after.

His features froze, his body shutting down like how a machine in a factory would malfunction in caution only to work with a quick kick and a tweak seconds later to get back to work.

Bucky's cheeks felt surprisingly warm on his thinly-clothed shoulder, the heat making his body feel indifferent to everything else he was feeling before. The material of his soft, dry jacket grazed his arm a few times as his friend subconsciously curled closer; he somehow found the solid form comfortable to lean against for his nap.

He was close, so close that Raymond could practically taste the saltiness tangled into his hair. Oddly enough, the boy didn't mind the piece of ocean the Barnes boy had brought back from Coney Island with him - perhaps it was because he smelt the same way currently too?

Regardless, Raymond Fossum enjoyed the new company on his shoulder. His soft smile expanded to the heavens as he looked down at his hands like some bashful schoolboy . . . which now, when you really think about it -

"You're so obvious." Steve suddenly whispered across to them as the truck drove its way back to Brooklyn, a playful smile crossing his features. He chuckled when he saw the alarmed look his awake friend possessed, his face now even paler than what it once was. His mouth parted, probably to mutter a panicked, frantic apology but Steve beat him to it . "I won't say anything, Ray."

Raymond swallowed his embarrassment down like bad liquor, giving a gratifying nod in reply as Bucky Barnes continued to sleep soundly on his shoulder - just as he would continue to do so for the rest of the ride home.

His face blushed an opaque crimson as he feebly stuttered the thankful words of. "T - Thanks, Steve."

"Hey," Raymond blinked as the pressure of a hand hastily clapped itself on his shoulder, head snapping to meet the solicitous blue eyes of Bucky Barnes as he tilted his head at him. "you still with me, Ray?"

"Huh? Oh . . . yeah." Raymond nodded distantly, his head still high up in the clouds.

"Ok. So you're in for tonight then, yeah?"

"Sure." Raymond answered flatly, his brain not engaged in the conversation but instead on his memories as he furrowed his brows. Was he really that obvious back then?

"Perfect!" Bucky was beaming like a little kid on Christmas Day, ruffling the top of where the disorientated boy's hair would be on top of his hat before striding off with a merry stride. "I'll tell Connie to meet us at Stark Expo tonight with her friends."

"Wait? What?" Whatever hypnotised Raymond's thoughts snapped him free, fully alert of his surroundings but more so to what he just unknowingly agreed to. "No, no, no, no, no! Wait! Bucky!" Shouting after his friend, Bucky purposely began to speed up so his friend could not catch up to take back his words.

They were entering a new street now, Raymond jogging to catch up to his friend just as the boy stopped in his tracks. Standing together now, they could hear the distant sounds of grunting and groaning (not the good kind) coming from behind an alley. A loud clatter erupted from the ruckus, supposedly a body colliding with the rusty bins. Raymond and Bucky lost their smiles as a rough, gravelled voice echoed down the alleyway.

"You just don't know when to give up, do you?" The duo didn't have to see a face to know exactly who the jerk was referring to, a knowing look being exchanged between them.

Steve.

"Why is it always an alley?" Raymond rhetorically asked with a groan as he and his friend collectively let out huge sighs, chests puffing in their new military outfits as they rushed towards the sound hurriedly.

Steve Rogers was on the ground, laying in a pile of dumped rubbish. His face bruised like a peach, already showing shadows of damage caused by punches. The skinny and petite frame in which he lived in didn't assist him in defending himself; he was like a twig that could be snapped by only one hand.

Of all the things the blond boy had to work with, his spirit was undeniably the strongest thing about him. His mother taught him to always stand up, and he'd be dammed if he ignored those wise words spoken through a lip painted with blood and bruises caused by none other than his father. If Sarah Rogers could look her husband in the eye and stand up for what she believed in, so could he.

So, through a stagger, Steve got back up to his own two feet. He was tired, wiped out, and his lungs felt like they were going to explode . . . but that had never stopped Steve Rogers from trying. "I can do this all day."

"Hey!" Bucky yelled just as the scruffy man leapt to attack Steve again, giving him hardly any time to turn himself around and react before he roughly gripped him by the shoulder and pushed him back from their friend. His look was menacing, using his tall height to intimidate the bully before them. "Pick on someone your own size."

The asshole grunted as he threw a punch, Bucky leaning back and successfully dodging it before retaliating by swinging his fist. It landed, hitting him square in the jaw as he stumbled back. With his back now turned to him, Bucky delivered a swift kick to his behind.

Raymond chuckled at the action, embarrassing the man as he tried to scurry off. Before he could fully leave the confines of the alley, the man got served one last beating as someone's foot purposely stuck out and tripped him. He fell to the concrete with a hard smack, a low groan emitting from the back of his throat as he looked up at the culprit.

Raymond smirked mischievously, stepping over him casually. The stranger wasn't worth his eye contact as he called over his shoulder. "Watch where you're going, jerk."

Finally gaining some brains, the man surrendered with a quick scramble up to his feet and a sprint faster than a cheetah's. His injuries (the consequences of his actions) drew in a discomfort in his body, causing him to limp. Either way, he got what he deserved.

With the threat no out of sight, the pair were no longer concerned about him. Instead, they turned their attention to Steve, who was in the process of getting up once more.

"Sometimes, I think you like getting punched." Bucky comments casually, absentmindedly looking down at the roll of paper in his hand as Raymond gave Steve a hand to help him up.

"Yeah, is this a tactic to show some babe that you're hard as nails? 'Cause, if so, I would've gladly punched you myself." The Fossum boy further poked as he noticed a paper slip lying absent on the ground, picking it up only for him to notice its familiar print. Not again.

"I had him on the ropes." Steve hissed as he applied pressure to his eye where he took a good hit, flinching away without even noticing that Raymond was reading over his certificate of acceptability.

Bucky walked over and saw the slip, sighing as he looked over at the Rogers with a pointed look. "How many times is this?"

"This would be the fourth attempt." Raymond's answer was filled with disappointment, reading through the information written by his friend. He hummed in acknowledgment when he noticed the wrong address written out in black ink. "Paramus, huh? Someone's been studying up on their geography."

"You know it's illegal to lie on the enlistment form." Bucky informed in a matter-of-fact tone, his nose delicately scrunching as he asked the boy. "And seriously, Jersey?"

Looking up, Steve now got a proper good look at the pair. His eyes widened at their uniforms, speechless for a moment before softly asking. "You two got your orders?"

Bucky and Raymond were silent, the latter choosing to stare at the ground rather than respond. He felt so small in the uniform, like its material was swallowing and devouring his skin; it reminded him that there was no escape.

"The 107th." Bucky eventually revealed, his head held high. He tried to say his words with a sureness, most likely for his good friend's sake, but Raymond saw right through it. He saw the tremble (although faint) that was there. His tone had a worrying edge, and the boy couldn't blame him. "Sergeant James Barnes, shipping out for England first thing tomorrow."

"And you're going too?" Steve wondered after a pause filled with hesitation, the sight of his friend, who lived to hate war, wearing an official soldier uniform, perturbing to him.

"Not by choice." Raymond downheartedly corrected, his eyes a deeper pit of blue that just made you swim in its open waves of empathy.

"I should be going." Steve mumbled, shaking his head in spite of himself and his incapability to join his friends and fight for his country; all because he simply wasn't soldier-material.

"Come on, guys!" Bucky smiles as he drapes an arm around each of his friend's shoulders, walking with them out of the back alley as he tried to lighten the mood. "It's me and Ray's last night! We gotta get you cleaned up."

"Why? Where are we going?" Steve wondered, sounding just as enthusiastic as Raymond - who looked like he'd rather go and sleep the night off.

"The future." Bucky declared, handing the blond boy the newspaper they had collected on their way over so he could see the ad for the World Exposition. Steve didn't seem to mind it, but Raymond only knew that was because he didn't know he was walking into a triple date just yet.

The Fossum boy walked with them, lagging behind only by a few meters as he stared at the parchment Steve had used to go to where he dreaded.

It's interesting how certain people react to the war. Although, Steve's intentions were good and full of heart, they were often unrealistic. Steve Rogers didn't want to kill people, but Raymond knew that having such a goal in war was just pure foolishness.

Raymond knew that Steve was a good man, who wanted to be just as good as a soldier; if only that were such a thing.

He wanted to wear the uniform. He wanted to be in his friend's position. He would wear the uniform with a sense of honour and achievement, but Raymond - who actually was allegeable for the clothes and title - never could and most likely never will.

He was plagued by what it symbolised, what it meant. He was now a soldier, a man fighting for his country just like his late father. He had the capability to wield a gun, and encouraged to pull the trigger if pushed.

Raymond had been a victim to the loss of war, and now he was a player in its never ending game. And he knew he would never understand Steve as to why he was so eager to fight, because - if he had the choice - Raymond would give anything to be in his shoes.

: : ❛ 𝓐𝙐𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙍 𝓝𝙊𝙏𝙀 ❜ : :
╰───╮; i feel like i was lacking brain cells by the end of this but that's just my insane lack of sleep. remember to go to bed guys, and sleep if you can.

most of the information i gathered for this chapter was either taken from the marvel cinematic universe wiki or basic google searches, so there may be some mistakes.

i didn't want to make this chapter too long, as i felt like this was more a chapter to dive into the steve/bucky/raymond dynamic. i'm relieved that we're finally on the actual story now that that flashback scene ( which took me forever so please be nice pleaseeeeee ) is finished.

thank you for reading!
love you all!

∴ ✪ ❱ · TRGDYCOILS !! ━━━━
( 8.2k words )