4. No Strings

                                    

                                          
"I had strings but now I'm free. 
There are no strings on me." 
———
                          
I felt lonely without Steve. I found myself wishing for his presence. Just his presence. The sound of his voice. Anything to fill the empty void in my life.  I had no one to talk to but myself. I had no hobbies, no housework, and no job to go to every day. I felt detached from the world. I watched everyone go about their lives, wishing that could be me instead. 
                          
Instead, I was alone in the freezing cold with nothing but a stale bagel, my backpack of scattered memories, and a scrap of paper with Steve's address written on it. He had given it to me the one time we had met by chance, which was only a few days ago. I knew he was busy, but I wanted to visit him. Something in heart had been restless ever since he left. I didn't know what it was and it frustrated me. I wanted to figure out what it was. Maybe Steve would be able to help me. Maybe I could go see if he was home, I had nothing better to do besides waste away on this frigid bench.
                          
I scarfed down the stale bagel, regardless of its taste, and began my journey to Steve's place. The closer I got to downtown Manhattan, the more crowded it got. I could barely navigate the sea of people ahead of me and my anxiety wasn't making it any better. The noise and people constantly brushing up against me was too much. There had to be another way. 
                          
I took a detour down an alleyway, relaxing a little once the noise died down and it was quiet. However, looking around this alleyway jogged my memory. 
                          
"And stay away!" I growled, giving the bully a good kick on his ass and watching triumphantly as he ran away. I then turned to Steve, who was slowly standing up, and sighed heavily. "You know, I think you like getting punched." 
                          
"I had him on the ropes!" Steve huffed when I took him by the shoulder, crossing his arms across his chest. After a minute or so, his anger deflated and he glanced at me. "Thank you, Buck..." 
                          
I smiled and just kept walking, bringing Steve closer with my arm. "You're welcome, punk." I chuckled, flinching when he playfully punched my shoulder. 
                          
"King Kong." Steve teased, rolling his eyes. 
                          
I blinked a few times as the memory faded away, then pulled out one of my journals. 'He used to call me King Kong. I called him punk. Had to save him from fights.' Once I wrote that down, I put the journal away and sighed. I took one last look around the alleyway before my gaze settled on a metal ladder that went up to the roof of a building. I could climb that with no problem and I'd be far away from the sea of people on the ground. 
                          
I tightened the straps of my backpack and began my ascent, my hands gripping onto the cold metal. I froze about halfway up when the feeling reminded me of something, but I managed to shake it off and kept going. Once I reached the roof, I stood up and took a look at the city. It was much quieter up here, except for the howling wind that just never seemed to quit. My heart yearned for something exciting, so I decided it was time to head off. 
                          
I got a running start and headed straight for the edge of the roof, nimbly hopping up onto the ledge and lunging across the space between. I landed on my feet on the next roof and kept running, the rush of adrenaline warming my muscles and urging me onwards. Something about the thrill of jumping across gaps that seemed almost impossible to jump filled my heart with excitement. I lived for moments like this. 
                          
I had jumped at least four roofs before I realized that I was on the roof of the building where Steve's place was located. I pulled out the scrap of paper in my pocket and peered at it. 6th level, apartment 237. I quickly shoved the paper back in my pocket before the wind took it and went over to the edge of the building. Thankfully, there was a ladder I could use to climb down. It was more rickety than the previous one, making anxiety bubble up in my chest again. I didn't want to fall. The idea of falling was terrifying, but I didn't understand why. I had never been afraid of heights, why now? 
                          
As I climbed down the ladder, I counted the windows so I knew what level I was at. I finally reached six and peered in the window, having to squint so I could see better. I knew it was rude to look in people's windows, but I needed to find Steve. 
                          
Finally, after about two minutes of waiting, a tall man with blond hair drowsily stumbled into the kitchen of the apartment. I felt a smile tugging at my lips again. Steve. It looked like he had a messy bedhead, his blond hair sticking out in ten different directions. He was wearing a white shirt and black shorts. I waited for him to leave the kitchen before I decided on how I was going to get in. 
                          
First, I tested the window to see if it was unlocked. It was. Steve was never good at locking things. It was a miracle that his place had never gotten broken into yet. I carefully nudged it open using my fingers, only so that it was wide enough for me to fit. I went in feet first and landed silently on the wooden floor, closing the window behind me. As soon as I closed the window, the atmosphere changed dramatically. Everything felt warm and inviting, even the pale sunlight that shone through the windows. I had forgotten that I essentially broke into Steve's place. 
                          
I hope he didn't mind. 
                          
I froze when I heard a noise come from the hallway, my heart beginning to race. What if he didn't want me here? No, he wouldn't give me his address if he didn't want me to visit at least once. My mind was torn between escaping through the window or hiding somewhere in the apartment. I didn't belong here. It wasn't my home. It was Steve's home, not mine. I shouldn't be here. 
                          
But as I turned to open the window again, a soft voice stopped me in my tracks. 
                          
"...Bucky?" 



                          
A/N: Anyone know where the quote from the beginning came from? Guess! :D