Sunday Surprises

The weekend had finally arrived, and Bucky Finch lay sprawled on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. For once, he had no plans, no projects—just peace and silence. He let his mind drift into that blissful nothingness, enjoying the quiet.

“Dude! Hey, dude!” Richard’s voice shouted from somewhere nearby, but Bucky didn’t flinch. He was too zoned out to respond, barely registering the sound. A few moments later, Richard crept up silently, then slapped the back of Bucky’s head with a loud smack.

“Ah!” Bucky jolted upright, blinking in surprise. “What the—Richie! What’s your problem, man?”

Richard grinned, arms crossed. “What’s my problem? You’re lying here like a statue. Thought you might be dead.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, rubbing his head. “I’m just… thinking.”

“Uh-huh. Thinking about what?”

“Nothing,” Bucky replied with a small shrug. “Figured I’d just watch some TV shows, maybe call Stacey.”

“Ahh,” Richard sighed dramatically. “Living the dream.”

Bucky shot him a sideways glance. “What’s with the sarcasm?”

Richard shrugged. “I’m just saying, you could live a little more. But whatever.” He turned toward the kitchen with a sigh, muttering, “Some people…”

The morning passed uneventfully, eventually blending into midday. Richard lounged around, idly scrolling through his phone, while Bucky half-watched a random TV show from the couch. The peace was short-lived, however, as Richard’s phone suddenly buzzed with a call from his boss.

Richard glanced at his phone and groaned. “No way,” he muttered, letting it ring once, twice, before reluctantly answering. “Hello, Gwen?”

“Richard! I need you in the office today,” his boss’s voice crackled through the phone. “We’re clearing out the storage room, and it’s a mess. Come give us a hand.”

Richard’s face fell, and he rolled his eyes in exasperation. “On a Sunday?” he muttered under his breath. “Why is my Sunday turning into a nightmare?”

Gwen’s voice cut in, sharp and clear. “Did you say something, Richard?”

“N-no, ma’am! Be there soon!” He hung up, sighing heavily, then looked at Bucky with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I’ve got an idea…”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “What now?”

Richard grinned. “You don’t have anything important to do, right?”

“Uh, no…?” Bucky replied cautiously, not sure where this was going.

“Perfect,” Richard said, grabbing Bucky by the collar. “Then you’re coming with me!”

“Wait, what? Where?” Bucky stammered as Richard dragged him toward the door.

“To work. Come on, we’re gonna make this Sunday a little less miserable.”

“Work?” Bucky protested, trying to resist. “But… I don’t work with you!”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re in this together!” Richard laughed, giving him no chance to escape as he practically pulled him onto the bike.

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Before Bucky could argue further, they were off. The streets zipped by in a blur, and within minutes, they pulled up in front of Richard’s office, a sleek building with large glass windows and an old, polished sign reading Whitefield Historical Research.

Richard strode in confidently, with Bucky following reluctantly behind. Inside, they were greeted by Gwen, Richard’s boss, a young woman about Bucky’s age with a no-nonsense expression and an appraising gaze.

“Richard,” she said, crossing her arms, “who’s this?”

“Oh, this is Bucky, my roommate,” Richard replied casually. “He’s here to help out with… our big storage task.”

Gwen raised an eyebrow, looking Bucky up and down. “Well, glad to have an extra hand, I suppose. You don’t mind helping out, do you?”

Bucky offered a nervous smile, glancing at Richard, who gave him a reassuring nudge. “Uh… sure. Happy to help,” he mumbled.

“Perfect,” Gwen said with a small smile. “Follow me, then.”

She led them through a maze of hallways, past rows of filing cabinets and shelves piled high with old documents, artifacts, and books. Bucky looked around, his eyes lighting up as he took in the historical materials. He’d always had a soft spot for ancient things and mysterious artifacts.

They reached the storage room, a cluttered space filled with boxes, dusty books, and mysterious objects from different cultures and time periods. Gwen gestured to a row of heavy shelves stacked with labeled containers.

“Alright, let’s get started,” she said, rolling up her sleeves. “We need to sort everything and clean up. This place is a disaster.”

“See, Bucky?” Richard grinned, patting him on the back. “Just like old times. Manual labor with a friend—it’ll be fun!”

Bucky chuckled nervously, glancing at the rows of dusty boxes. “Sure… fun.”

As they worked, Gwen showed Bucky some of the rare items they had collected—ancient coins, broken pottery, even a few old maps with faded ink. He found himself absorbed, carefully examining each item with fascination. Just as he was inspecting a piece of broken jewelry, a large book on the nearby shelf caught his eye.

The cover was worn and faded, but the title sent a chill through him: Legends of the Lost Clans: The Followers of the Dark Lord.

He felt a strange pull toward it, his fingers itching to reach for it.

“Hey, Bucky!” Richard’s voice broke his trance. “Stop daydreaming and give me a hand here!”

“Oh, right!” Bucky replied, quickly tearing his gaze away from the book. He walked over to help Richard lift a heavy crate, though the title of the book lingered in his mind, tugging at his curiosity.

They continued sorting, lifting, and organizing until most of the clutter had been cleared. Gwen wiped her hands on her jeans and gave an approving nod.

“Not bad, you two,” she said. “And, Bucky… thanks for helping out. I know you didn’t have to.”

Bucky smiled awkwardly, shifting on his feet. “It was… um, no problem. Happy to help.”

Gwen chuckled softly, giving him a curious look. “So, Richard’s told me a little about you. You work in, uh… research too?”

“Uh, yeah, I do,” Bucky said, looking down, his voice barely a mumble. “But… you know, just… regular research. Nothing… too interesting.”

“Oh, come on,” Richard cut in, clapping Bucky on the shoulder. “Don’t be so modest, man! Bucky’s brilliant. He’s a total genius with numbers and analysis. Basically a god in his company.”

Bucky’s face turned red. “Richard, stop…”

Gwen laughed, her gaze lingering on Bucky with interest. “Well, a tech god… I’ll keep that in mind. Maybe we could use your expertise here someday, huh?”

Bucky’s face went even redder. He glanced down, mumbling something incoherent as he shuffled back over to the shelves.

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop embarrassing him,” Richard chuckled, giving Bucky a playful nudge. “You okay, buddy?”

“Yeah,” Bucky mumbled. “Just… I’m fine.”

As the afternoon went on, Bucky kept glancing back at that mysterious book on the shelf. He had so many questions—who were these dark followers? And why did the title send chills down his spine?

By the time they finished the storage room, the sun was beginning to set. Gwen leaned against a shelf, arms crossed with a satisfied look.

“Well done, you two. I’m impressed.”

Richard gave a dramatic bow. “Always at your service, boss.”

Gwen rolled her eyes, but Bucky caught a hint of a smile. She looked at him with a curious expression. “And, Bucky… thanks again. Maybe you could join us here sometime. It was nice to have you around.”

Bucky’s cheeks warmed. He looked away, mumbling, “Sure… maybe. Thank you.”

As they headed home, Richard nudged him with a grin. “So… Gwen seems to like you.”

“Stop,” Bucky muttered, embarrassed.

Richard laughed, throwing an arm around Bucky’s shoulder. “Hey, don’t be shy! She’s nice, right?”

Bucky gave a shy nod, glancing back at the office building as they walked away. He couldn’t help but feel a strange thrill, mixed with lingering curiosity about that book and the mysteries it hinted at.

As they walked into the twilight, the shadows seemed to lengthen around them, whispering secrets Bucky wasn’t yet ready to hear. But part of him knew that he’d soon be drawn back, to the mysteries that awaited in the shadows of the past.