What a wonderful day it is. Sure it's cold, but that would be expected on December 13th in New York anyway.

However, there's a little problem.

I was sitting in his - Steve's - room while he showered and I saw something sticking out from under his bed. When I went to see what it was, not only did I find his numerous sketch pads, but also a notebook that was bursting with words.

I looked around to be sure no one was watching and I quickly flicked it open.

"November 17, 1934," I said quietly to myself, flipping past and beginning to read "Steve's Diary..." I whispered.

And that's that. It seems... I don't know. It's a weird situation because I don't know what he's thinking but I sure hope this isn't too weird.

I mean, sure, I plan on eventually telling him but... I don't know about how soon.

~ Steven G. Rogers

"Telling him? As in... me? Tell me what?..." I froze as I heard footsteps coming down the hallway and a creaky door opening, so I pushed the diary under his bed and sat up on top.

"Hey Buck... whatcha doin' in here?" He asked, wondering why I was in his room.

"Oh... I was, uh, I was just waiting for you," I said. It wasn't all false. That was my original goal.

He smiled, "okay," he said, taking in my little white lie in place of the truth. Thank God he bought that load of crap.

The truth is, I've been sending him all these... signs. All day. Everything I do is a little hint. But he seems to be completely oblivious to the fact that I'm fucking in love with him. Jesus.

I feel so invisible sometimes. I just don't even know what more I can do at this point.

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James_BuchananBarnes