"wake up."

your head suddenly emerges up from the water, an eye-popping headache made a way through as you felt like your brain was about to explode. the world was rotating way faster than you can process, creating a current high that made you feel nauseous. your breath staggers, making you hyperventilate at the end. you paused, taking in a couple of deep breaths.

you stopped a moment, taking in your background like it was anew. you sank down to the tub again, leaving your face out in the open. you looked down at the lukewarm gray water. all but the water sloshing around moved. the silence overwhelmed you. you groaned, quickly grabbing your phone from the ground, the screen lit up. it was only 9 pm, you sighed. a missed call from wanda, you clicked your device off, dropping it back to the floor.

you popped the drain out, the water slowly swirling its way out of the tub. you wrapped the towel around yourself, the water drips from your knees and your toes, hitting the wood floor with tiny splashes. the sudden cold hits your spine as you shiver out of the bathroom. kicking the clutter from the ground, shifting it out of your way, you made your way to the living room couch. leftover coke, weed, plates, and spoons sprawl out on your table. you gawked down at the deadly delectables, pushing them aside. laying back on the couch, you dried yourself up, rubbing the towel against every part.

glancing down on the ground, you started picking up some clothes, carefully sniffing them. fishnets, a pink plaid skirt, and a large puffer jacket, the only clean things you had left in this mess. you quickly put them on, not bothering with bras or panties. you smooth yourself down, looking into the broken mirror across the room, you played with your face, slapping it around, mushing it up like playdoh. your dark circles were more prominent than usual, your eyes stayed bloodshot.

this is what being sober for more than a week does to you.

it makes you miserable like you have nothing else in the world. you sighed, walking back to the bathroom. picking up your phone off the ground, you shook it, the water droplets flying away. you opened up your phone to a picture of chase kissing another girl. your eyes stayed glued to the photo, no reaction building up from your face.

"pathetic," you softly spoke. you clicked your phone off, stuffing it into the large puffer jacket of yours.

you made your way out of the bathroom, headed straight to the door. it was one of those days where you need to clear your head, and without any narcotics in your grasp, you had to go with the other option. you picked the keys off the hook of the door, leaving and slamming the door, you locked it. you instantly felt the cold air hit your ass, making you immediately regret this.

the city of brooklyn immersed you, shiny white snow covered the dirt ground, the frigid breeze covered you up, making you shiver in response. you looked down at your legs, knick nacking against each other. "should've brought some pants," you mumbled against the cold air. you lived on the outskirts of brooklyn. you in no way had enough money to buy an apartment in the city. here you stayed in a grimy motel, which crawled with critters and pedos. it wasn't all that bad, sometimes old men think you're a homeless girl and buy you lunch.

you huddle up to your jacket, walking down the lonely road to the closest bar from the motel, which wasn't far. but your mind started to wander. to your parents, chase, your friends, you. drugs were a huge part of your life. ever since you can remember, you were surrounded by them, indulged in them. you were buried in a hole which you can't dig back up, you tried many times to quit too, but every time you get sucked back in. maybe that's how your life was planed, to snort coke and die. and to be honest . . .

that plan sucked.

the bright neon lights appeared to your view, breaking you from your trance. you looked around, a pit growing in your stomach, regretting going outside. you sighed, then entered the place. people started to stare, and when i mean stare. i mean stare. like they had an aimbot pointed right at you. maybe it was the way you dressed? looked? maybe cause you didn't know anyone. you moved to this part of brooklyn a couple of months ago, and apparently, the only people you knew were the maximoff twins. you ignore the tiny stares and glares and headed to the barstool.

"what can i get for a cutie like you," you looked up to a blond-haired woman behind the bar. you glanced at her nametag.

danvers

"well danvers, i don't normally drink so get me the strongest thing you have."

she nodded, disappearing from your view. you sighed, pulling your phone out. more pictures of that girl and chase were sent to you.

drunk bastard . . .

he would get mad at you for a couple of days, then get drunk, then cheat on you like it's a daily routine. your fingers started typing away on the keyboard until an object hitting the table brought your attention up.

"here's the strongest thing we have. it's on the house," she winked at you, leaving you alone after.

hm . . .

you pierced your lips, grabbing the lethal drink in hand. you swirled it in the cup, taking a good look at it, lifting it up to your lips, you chugged the drink. the unknown liquid singed your throat, leaving a delightful welcome note along with it. you slammed the cup down, some of the fluid hitting the table along with it.

you hissed as the drink leaves a daunting taste on your tongue. you called over the bartender, "um . . . i don't really like this. can i just get a water." she looked at your disgust expression with confusion, she nodded and left again. your screen lit up again, more pictures being sent you, begging for your attention. chase was an attention whore. if you didn't have his attention, then someone else would. he thinks you get jealous of his actions, and you did at first. now it's like a daily occurrence, and you don't care. typing the keypad, you write one word before you hit send.

okay. (read)

you set your phone back on the table, mumbling words to yourself. you rose your head up, at the headache that was growing even more. you rubbed your eyes and temples. as the cold drink glistens at you. you took a tiny sip, immediately feeling a little better.

the door suddenly rings out, you glanced up to see a bunch of men walk in. boring. you looked back at your glass, watching the ice slowly melt away, then you looked back up again. their jackets ━━━ they all were wearing them. it was black leather, you assumed, cut into different pieces, and had a star on the arm sleeve. you didn't think this place would have gangs, it was a fairly small town, and it just seemed boring overall, but hey, you snort coke for a living, anything can happen. you believed you were staring for too long cause a pair of icy blues met with your eyes. you shifted back in your stool, looking back at your drink.

you sipped the drink in hand, trying so hard to not look back. clicking sounds, came your way. the mystery man sat on the stool next to you, looking over you like a piece of meat. he squinted his eyes, moving his cigarette away from his lips.

"what's a pretty doll like you sitting alone," a deep voice sends shocking waves to your brain. you stayed quiet for a while, then recalled what he said to you. you softly chuckled at the sudden nickname, "doll?"

he shifted in his seat, looking down at you. he hadn't seen you before, if he did, he would've known. you were someone new, nothing he has seen before. you were absolutely stunning, your deep/light-colored hair, even tho it was shaggy it shined in the lowlight light. your body looked dainty in the large jacket that was obviously not for you, and that tiny pink skirt definitely defined your ass. all the girls in town were all the same, nothing new, but you. he knew that something was different about you. he tilted his head, a smirk curving to his face.

"ain't it a pretty name?"

you pierced your lips, still looking down. the drink swirled in your hand. there was in no way that you would be able to talk to him this sober. something about him scared you, but not in a bad way. you were more imitated than scared. you haven't glanced back up ever since he sat down. you sipped the drink again, feeling the alcohol surge inside of you, like unlocking a new confidence achievement.

looking back up, his eyes met yours. was he staring at you this whole time?

weirdo . . .

you shook your head from that rude thought.

can't you just trust one single guy?

he was very attractive, god didn't make men like that anymore. he had tattered long brown hair, which was slicked back in a bun. you thought it was cute that he had tiny little pieces of hair that fell down to his face. his face, on the other hand, made you crumble. it was carved by god himself. his sharp jawline could cut glass, making you want to do unholy things with it. his build was muscular, far from your type, but it didn't matter. you would do anything to jump on him right now, even if your mind was telling you otherwise.

"i mean my real name is pretty too, but doll works fine."

he smirked, the glint in his eyes shining. he snatches your drink like it was his own, slowly lifting to his lips, not leaving his eyes off of you, "you come here often?"

you shook your head, playing with your glass of water. "not really the drinking type, if you know what i mean."

he tilted his head, lifting the now empty cup in hand, "yeah i see," he gently put it down, "buying the strongest drink in here tells me likewise."

"worried big boy? i think i handled it pretty well."

a smirk grew from his face, swiftly he moved his fingers from the cup to his lips, brushing it along. he was teasing you. you knew that, the only thing you weren't sure of is that it was working. you shifted in your seat, suddenly feeling a little hot. he chuckled, looking at how your behavior changed, "well, you haven't told me your name yet, but it was rude of me for not introducing myself first."

he extends his hand out, you stare down at his hand then back at him. what the hell is he doing.

"barnes. bucky barnes."

you bit down at your lip, looking right in those oceans of mystery debating on shaking his hand or not. this town was weird already, but now a random stranger who could be in a dangerous gang or stupid stuff like that. is making you all hot and bothered and now wants you to shake his hand. you groaned, rolling your eyes, sticking your hand out.

you shook his.

"nice to meet you, barnes."

© HQYLOFT