Inspired By Taylor Swift Series

Hits Different (Marvel)

"I thought that too," you softly cry. You wipe away the tears, your face heating up with a terrible combination of alcohol, misery, and embarrassment. "I need some air."

"I'll go with you," Nat tells you, stopping you before you can leave.

"What about Wanda?" you ask, stumbling as you stand up from the both you'd occupied all night. Nat looks down at Wanda, Wanda's head slumped against Nat's shoulder, still crying her eyes out. "I just need air. I'll be fine. Pinkie promise."

"If you're not back in 5 minutes, I'm going to come find you."

"Scout's honor!" you exclaim.

"You were never a Girl Scout," Natasha yells after you.

You weave your way through the crowds of people. No one seems to notice how desperately you want to escape this bar, and tonight, you're not above pushing and shoving.

When you finally make your way outside, you notice that the cool night does nothing to soothe the ache in your heart and the knotted feeling in the pit of your stomach. You prop yourself up against the brick wall and take the deepest breath you possibly can.

"Tough night?" the bouncer asks.

"Tough month," you admit, wrapping your arms around yourself to protect yourself from the frosty night.

"Whoever he is, he's an idiot," the bouncer offers. "Doesn't know what he lost."

You sniffle, wiping away the tears on your cheeks, "Thank you, Mr. Bouncer."

You didn't believe the bouncer.

Not when you could still see it so clearly in your mind.

Bucky, just like you, knew exactly what he'd lost.

There is no washing your hands of something that was still staining every inch of your skin, like a wine stained dress you couldn't wear anymore.

You'd memorized every aspect of Bucky. There was not a part of him you didn't know. Just like there wasn't a single part of you that he hadn't touched. You think of the little wrinkles in the corner of his eyes, the scruff he'd always wake with, the slope of his nose, you knew every piece of him. And you knew it by heart.

It all appears in flashes, little snippets of memories that you never wanted to let go of. And you think of him, of the way he used to look at you, the way he used to hold you, of what you shared - and you picture him sharing that with someone else.

You're not quite sure if it's the copious amounts of liquor in your veins or the image of the love of your life finding a new, better, greater love. Waves of nausea wash over you so quickly that it overwhelms you.

You clap a hand over your mouth, biting back the bile burning in your esophagus.

It's no use as you rush forward to the curb, throwing up all over the street. Each time you picture him in love with other girls is another dry heave on the street.

"I'm gonna go grab your friends," the bouncer says, though you barely hear him as you remain doubled over the curb.

"Thank you," you hear Nat say only a minute or so later, jogging out to the curb. She grabs your hair with one hand, rubbing soft, soothing circles over your spine with the other, "I think now's a good time to call it a night."

"I'm sorry," you whimper. "I didn't mean to ruin the night."

"You didn't," Nat states, though even in your drunken state, you can tell she's lying. "I promise it's fine. We understand."

You look up at her hopefully, tears freely flowing down your cheeks, "You do?"

"We do." She stands up, flagging down a taxi cab driving down the street. "We just need to get you home and in bed."