Inspired By Taylor Swift Series

Hits Different (Marvel)

"Okay," you sniffle as the taxi pulls up. "Home sounds good."

She unsubtly ushers you into the taxi, "Come on, let's get you in the cab."

"Wait, I left my jacket inside!" you abruptly exclaim, popping back out of the cab.

Nat sighs, clearly a little frustrated with dealing with you and Wanda. She stops you from getting out with a firm hand on your shoulder, "I'll go grab it. You stay here while I go get Wanda, alright?"

You obediently nod, "Okay."

She turns back with a threatening expression like she can see the scheming lurking in your eyes, "I mean it! No running off."

"I wouldn't dream of it," you drunkenly promise. "Cross my heart!"

Nat narrows her eyes at you, trying to determine the sincerity in your eyes. She sticks out an admonishing finger, "I'll be right back."

You keep nodding as she backs away from the curb, not breaking eye contact with you until she reaches the door. You shut the car door the moment that Nat enters the bar. "Can we go now?"

The taxi driver looks back at you with a vaguely concerned expression, though you get the sense that it's less for your safety and more for the fact that you're drunk in his backseat, "What about your friends?"

"I'll text them on the way."

He purses his lips in clear displeasure, debating if this ride was worth the cab fare.

"Can you just take me home?" you quietly plead with the taxi driver. "Please?"

The driver sighs in concession after a moment, "You wanna tell me where home is?"

You prattle off your address. He looks back at you one last time, he sighs, nods, and drives off, "Just don't throw up in my back seat."

"I wouldn't dream of it," you mutter.

You lean your head against the window of the cab, watching as the streets pass you by. Each flickering street light, each traffic light, every intersection is just a little bit closer to where your heart still resided.

By the time the cab comes to a stop in front of your old apartment, some of your intoxication has faded.

Just not sober enough to stop you from doing something stupid.

You pay the driver, collect your things, and hop out of the cab.

You stumble your way into the apartment building, up the elevator, down the hall.

After fussing with the keys in your bag, it takes you far longer than you'd care to admit to get the door unlocked.

You fling open the door, stumbling into the dark apartment.

"Hello?" you call into the darkness.

No response.

"Hello?" you over-enunciate.

No response again.

You stumble on, your hand clumsily feeling for the light switch against the wall. You victoriously chuckle when the room is finally illuminated.

What you find is not something that you're ready to bear witness to.

There is no life here. No warmth. No light. Everything you once loved is gone. He is gone. Everything is exactly as you left it, and yet, it is all gone.

The room is sobering. Both mentally and physically. And you're not ready to be sober just yet.

You stumble around to the liquor cabinet, skipping over the bottles of wine and champagne and straight to Bucky's expensive bottle of whiskey.