Somebody hug me!
Somebody fix me!
Somebody save me!

Send me a sign, God!
Give me some hope, here!
Something to live for!

-Beautiful; by the Off-Broadway performance, Heathers: the Musical

Melanie and Isobel tried to keep themselves as busy as possible. With planning Joni's funeral, trying to help Oliver grieve and recover healthily, and the whole mess over legal guardianship, things seemed to get more stressful by the second. For Melanie, it was figuring out how she could afford a proper funeral for her mother. Joni was well-known in their neighborhood, but the teen wasn't sure who to invite to such a heartbreaking event. Obviously Pop would be there; he always helped the family out in times of need. But for other guests. . .it was hard to say. Isobel suggested making the funeral short and sweet, but that didn't feel right, either. The teen wanted her mother to be remembered, to be looked at in at least a warm light in the eyes of the community. But it felt like every idea Melanie had was never good enough.

"You're stressing yourself out," Isobel stated, sipping her coffee. "And it is stressing me out."*

"Sorry," Melanie murmured. She sat in Isobel's kitchen, writing down ideas for the funeral, planning out every little moment. That kitchen was where the teen spent most of her time. It was where a lot of her ideas came from.

"Mel, I know this is important to you, but you can't keep doing this."

"Doing what?" Melanie looked down at her notepad, her fingertips tapping on the wooden tabletop in frustration.

"This." Walking over, Isobel took the notebook away from the teen. She may not know the Salinas kids very well, but she knew that Melanie was a child who had to grow up beyond her years. At only sixteen years old, the young girl had to provide for her family. She had to take care of a sickly mother, watch over her toddler half-brother, get jobs to pay for a mediocre apartment, all the while hoping to finish school. And with Joni's death, that only seemed to add more pressure onto Melanie. She had to plan out a funeral, think of guests to invite, find a new place to live, all the while looking out for Oliver's best interests. No child should be acting like that.

"Isobel, what the hell!" Melanie snapped. Jumping up from her seat, the teen attempted to reach over and grab her notebook, but Isobel kept it from her reach. "I need that! Why're you doing this?"

"What you need is a break," Isobel exclaimed. "Your mother died, Melanie. Don't you understand that?"

"Are you serious right now?" The sixteen year old couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You don't think I know what's going on? I get it, okay? My mom's dead. That's why I'm planning her funeral. That's why I'm trying to make sure Oliver's doing fine. It's my responsibility."

"No. You're only a child, can't you see that? You shouldn't have to burden yourself with adult responsibilities."

Snorting, Melanie crossed her arms over her chest, avoiding Isobel's gaze. She didn't want to hear another word out of the woman's mouth. As far as Melanie was concerned, her new companion was just interfering. No one ever had a problem with the teen taking on adult responsibilities before. Why did it matter so much now?

"Don't you think it's time you do things you want to do?" Isobel asked. She took in the defiance Melanie gave off. She took in the hostility and the irritation. Isobel was well aware the importance of the teen's notebook, but there had to be a moment when Melanie just stopped. "You've spent so much of your life catering to everyone else, what do you want, Mel?"

"What kind of question is that?" Melanie muttered.

"It's a realistic question." The older woman's brows furrowed. "Don't you have a plan for yourself?"

Melanie simply shrugged. She had dreams of what she wanted to be, but she never had the opportunity to act out on them.

"Just think about that, okay?" Isobel sighed. "I'm keeping the notebook until further notice. I want you to take a moment to just think about everything."

...

There were a lot of unhealthy coping mechanisms that Melanie had. Isobel could see that. She knew the teen had been so accustomed to being so responsible, that she didn't know — or couldn't remember — how to act and behave like a proper child. Being the "adult" in her old home had been the one constant in Melanie's life. It was sad, really.

Letting out a sigh, Isobel sat down at the kitchen table. Melanie had stormed out after their discussion, her face red with anger. The past couple weeks had been hard, and the older woman knew it would only get harder. Joni's funeral still had to be organized, that much was true, but there had to be a time in Melanie's life where she properly grieved for her mother. There had to be a moment where she felt. Looking down at the notebook, Isobel frowned.

All that fuss over this little thing, the older woman thought. The notebook itself was small, looking more like a diary than anything. But the outside was ordinary; no decorations or anything to indicate it belonged to a teenage girl. Mel's got to stop acting like she's so grown up, Isobel thought. It's not healthy for her or Oliver.

Letting out a harsh chuckle, Isobel leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes for a moment. She wanted to think, to really ponder over everything that happened recently. The weeks since Joni died, since Melanie and Oliver started living with Isobel, had been strange. Children were things the Italian woman never even considered having in her life, whether they were biological or not. But then came an emotional teenage girl, panicking over her deceased mother and her toddler brother. And this teenage girl, in all her grief and worry and anxiety, manages to destroy an apartment without lifting a finger. It was unbelievable. Isobel still wonders if she imagined the whole thing. How could anyone properly explain that?

There has to be something Melanie isn't telling me, Isobel thought. She furrowed her brows at that thought. Did Melanie know she could do something like that? She looked rather surprised at what happened, even more spooked than Isobel felt. Maybe she's never done that before. Maybe. . .Maybe. . .

Maybe what? What kind of explanation could be said for what Melanie did? Isobel's apartment had been destroyed, and there wasn't a single indication that it was a dream or some kind of elaborate prank. After that little moment, it was never talked about again. Melanie seemed to block that day — that moment — off, not wanting to recall it under any circumstances. For Isobel, she couldn't seem to get it out of her head. The memory dangled in the back of her mind, causing her a whole array of emotions.

Looking down at the notebook, Isobel frowned. She wanted what was best for the siblings, and she knew what she said to Melanie would thoroughly piss the teen off. . .but what was Isobel supposed to do? Let the teen run herself into the ground?

She's been using this to plan her mother's funeral, right? Isobel thought. I may as well see what she's been writing in it.

It was worth a try, right?

...

Names. A lot of names.* Some of them were crossed out, some of them had question marks by them. A lot of them — cross that, most of them — were people Isobel didn't recognize. Were they family members? Close family friends? Acquaintances? Isobel couldn't say for sure. All she really knew were a lot of the people listed in the notebook seemed to be crossed out. So that could probably mean the Salinas family didn't really have a lot of people they were close to.

Turning the page, Isobel's heart ached at what she saw next. A list of what could be afforded for Joni's funeral. From what was written in the notebook, Melanie worked two jobs that didn't pay her well. A lot of her finances went to the apartment, Oliver, Joni, and whatever was left was used for food, clothes, etc. Isobel's mind couldn't seem to process that one girl was responsible for so many things. Sure, the sixteen year old was working herself to the bone in order to afford a proper funeral, but the older woman wouldn't have guessed that much.

That could explain why she's been out late so often, Isobel thought solemnly. She's trying to save as much money as possible for Joni.

Turning the page again, Isobel felt tears prickle the backs of her eyes. It looked like she was going into more personal territory. A part of the notebook that Melanie seemed to put her heart and soul into. Written on the page were worries about whether she'd graduate high school on time; worries about how Oliver would grow to handle Joni's funeral. From what Isobel could see, Melanie was very worried over her half-brother's emotional state. He seemed to have shut down after the discovery of Joni's body. He wasn't as comfortable with other people as he used to be — or, he just wasn't as comfortable with his sister around.

Melanie would write about how it seemed her relationship with her brother felt strained, and she couldn't seem to figure out a way to mend it. Not even the offer of sweets seemed to wave Oliver's emotions. The teen felt helpless, hopeless. Nothing seemed to be working out the way she wanted.

Isobel's heart clenched at that. The idea of Melanie feeling absolutely helpless was awful.* Running a hand over her face, Isobel closed the notebook. She couldn't bear to see what else was written in it. She couldn't bear to think about what other pains the teen was currently experiencing.

...

I can't believe she'd do something like that. Melanie was pacing around in the room Isobel gave her. The teen's hands were crossed, a scowl on her face. Who does Isobel think she is? It's my mom who died! I should be planning a funeral for her! Not thinking about what it means to be a teenager.

Letting out a frustrated growl, Melanie threw herself on the bed. She hated feeling the way she did. She hated the frustration, the feeling of being useless.

"My job is to take care of my family," Melanie murmured. "I have to give Oliver a good life, and I was supposed to. . ."

. . .take care of mom.

Closing her eyes for a moment, the teen took a deep breath and let it out. She had to calm herself down. The last time she let herself lose control, Isobel's apartment paid the price for it. Wincing slightly, Melanie pushed that thought from her mind. She didn't want to remember that. God, she wanted to remember anything but that.

Opening her eyes, Melanie was met with the sight of the ceiling. The paint was a bit cracked, not to mention there were spiderwebs in the corners. Isobel's apartment looked fairly similar to how everyone else's looked. Old, somewhat dilapidated. The building was in the bad side of Brooklyn, where the "lowest of the lower class" lived. In other words, minorities in all shapes and sizes. While some found it baffling that someone like Isobel would live in such conditions, it was her status as an immigrant that gave her that life. While Italians seemed to hold a nice spot in American society, Melanie was still baffled on how Isobel was treated differently.

Letting out a huff, the teen turned onto her side, curling her body up and tucking her arms under her head.

All my life, I've been taking care of other people, Melanie thought. Ma, Oliver. . .Never did I consider taking care of myself.

Furrowing her brows, the teen felt a sensation bubble in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't identify what it was or what it represented, but it made her both uncomfortable and curious.

I've had to work two jobs to support us. I struggled in school because I was so focused on other things. When was I going to start taking care of myself?

There was still Oliver. He needed someone in his life. Someone who was family. His father wasn't in the picture, so that was out of the question. That meant Melanie was the only immediate family he had. So that meant neither would be separated, no matter what. The legal system could throw whatever they wanted at the siblings, they grew up together and they were going to stay together. That was why Melanie was so against living with her father's family. They wouldn't take in Oliver; he wasn't related to any of them. Hell, they barely acknowledged Melanie's existence until Joni died.

Closing her eyes again, Melanie let out a soft breath. She was working herself up. She didn't know what to think. Isobel still had to be interviewed in order to obtain legal guardianship. It would be a challenge, a white woman wanting to take in two black children. Melanie understood that; Oliver didn't. Even though the Salinas siblings were living in New York, there was still a lot of segregation. Plenty of white folks would treat Melanie badly because of her appearance. Oliver would certainly get his fair share, too.

Why does this have to be the world we live in?

...

Bucky listened closely to what he heard. The stories seemed to be true. Isobela Giovanni had taken in two children, both black, who seemingly lived in the same apartment building as her. It made him wonder if one of those kids was the girl he'd helped all that time ago. The one at the pharmacy. She had a fierceness to her, one that Bucky found admirable. But at the same time, he couldn't know for sure if either of those kids could be the girl he'd helped.

But he had to wonder why his body was reacting the way it was. Was he reacting the same way everyone else seemed to be? Or was it because he was curious? Or, maybe, it was an entirely different emotion altogether. He didn't entirely know. But Bucky knew that he'd find out eventually. Certain people in Brooklyn had a habit of talking, so world would spread fast.

(A/N):

First off, sorry for the wait on this chapter. I know it's probably not the best, but I hope you guys enjoy it regardless. Secondly, sorry for the mini hiatus. I let time get the best of me, to be honest. I've had so many other things going on I forgot about this story. Anywho, be sure to leave constructive criticism where you think it's necessary.

Do I own anything in the MCU? No. No I don't. All I own are my OCs, my subplots, and the chargers in my room. If you've got ideas for an OC or a subplot, be sure to PM me or leave a review. I'll add them in as soon as possible.

Again, leave constructive criticism where you think it's due. I'll be more than happy to read what you guys have to say!

Leave a random fact or story in the reviews, if you want. It's up to you guys.

Blessed be, guys,

Florida Mayers