Streamers adorn each and every surface of the compound, coating the room in a polychromatic sparkle. Glowing smiles play on the face of each and every guest as they stare at me expectantly, a large badge pinned to the little black dress dress I picked out just for him. "Thank you all for coming," I manage to choke out, my mind reeling as I glance across the crowd and search for him. Words fail against my lips. He isn't here.
The party kicks into full swing, music blasting from the speakers fixed into each and every wall. A cacophony of sounds invade my mind, pressing against my temples. It's too loud. It's all too loud. Somehow, I manage to reach the bar, ordering the strongest drink that comes to mind and taking a seat on a stool to steady myself. He said he'd be here. A warm hand falls onto my shoulder and a glimmer sets into my soul as I turn my head quickly. Staring back at me is Natasha. "Hey, kid. You look a bit grumpy considering this is your party. What's going on?" she asks, perching on the seat beside me, hand not leaving my skin. I take a large mouthful of my drink, blinking away the burn. "Bucky isn't here," I mumble, staring at my glass as though it's the most interesting thing in the world. She sighs and squeezes my shoulder in the most comforting manner she can muster. "Come on then. Finish your drink and we'll have a dance," she offers. It's sweet. Natasha never dances so her promises of joining me on the floor are like music to my ears as I nod, gulping down the rest of my drink a tad too fast and hopping off the stool with a newfound energy.
I take her hand and pull her towards the group dancing in the centre of the room. Some random Arctic Monkeys song blares through the speakers, shaking the floor beneath our feet as our bodies move in sync. Her hand grazes my hip as she stares directly into my eyes, a small smirk playing on her lips. In a sudden motion, she's holding my waist, directing the way in which my hips sway. A laugh tumbles from my throat as I move my arms to her neck, wrapping them around it loosely. "I think I make a pretty decent Bucky," she chuckles, winking a playful wink in my direction. I give a sad smile in return but the despair hidden within it dissipates as she spins me, my body almost crashing directly into Steve who laughs and helps me find my balance once more.
We dance for a while, our bodies occasionally pressing close in a way that makes Bucky drift from my mind almost entirely. Almost. There's still that anger and insecurity hidden beneath, fighting for release, but it's not as strong anymore and it fails at every turn. Until Clint approaches. "Where's your Winter Prince?" he asks, blatantly ignoring Natasha's warning looks. "He's-" I pause for a moment, doing one final sweep of the room. "Not here." Clint nods. "Not much of a shock there," he adds and I tilt my head, perplexed by the statement's implications. "What's that supposed to mean?" He shrugs before stating, "well he was getting pretty up close and personal with one of the SHEILD agents a few days back. I thought you noticed." I stare at him, rage seeping into my throat. "He was, was he?" Clint nods. "But don't tell him I told you," he says quickly before making himself scarce. "That disloyal cu-" Natasha cuts me off before I can finish my word. "Lets get you another drink," she sighs, leading me back to the bar and ordering us both two rounds of shots. We take them quickly. I nearly cough up a lung but Natasha's face remains unmoved. It's kind of hot, to tell the truth.
The alcohol's effect sets in almost instantly and a warmth sets in my veins. "Why didn't he come?" I find myself asking and she breathes out slowly. "I don't know, kid. Has he text you?" I shake my head. "He said he was coming," I add, sadness staining my voice. She places her hand on top of mine. "Maybe Steve will know," she suggests. As if on cue, the blonde appears beside me. "Maybe I'll know what?" he asks, resting his forearm on my head much to my humoured dismay. "Why Bucky isn't here," Nat chimes in. "Sorry, girls. I haven't spoken to him since this morning," he says. I groan and pull my phone out, calling him. No reply. I call again. No reply. "Sharon isn't here either," Steve adds with slight dismay at his girlfriend's no show. "Blonde Sharon?" I ask and he raises a brow but nods. "Has Clint ever met her?" He shakes his head, a tinge of realisation behind his eyes. "You don't think-" he starts but cuts himself off, taking my phone and calling Sharon. No reply. And again. No reply. A solemn look crosses his face and my eyes sting slightly.
Without thinking, I stand from the stool, making a bee line for the restroom and hiding my face to avoid welcoming any unwanted attention. It doesn't work and Sam follows me, calling out my name. But I don't stop. I can't stop. Somehow, he catches up, taking hold of my arm despite my objections and frantic attempts to pull away. That was the moment I knew. "He's with Sharon, isn't he?" I ask hopelessly. Sam looks taken aback at first but nods. I nod back. "That's all I needed to know." I drag my arm from his grip and slam the bathroom door in his face, emotions exploding out of my body as I grip the sink and stare into the mirror, studying my reflection. A broken girl stares back at me. Lost in a world she never wanted to be in as tears stream down her flushed cheeks.
I take out my phone and call one final time. He picks up, sounding slightly breathless. "I'm sorry, something came up." I glare at the phone in my palm, my grip on it tightening as I battle the urge to fling the object at the mirror, smashing both in the process. "Yeah, I'm sorry too. I'm sorry that you're with Sharon right now. Did I interrupt your fucking?" My voice is as sharp as the glass I want to break. "What? No. I would never do that to you." He sounds almost desperate. Pathetically so. "Cut the crap, James. Sam told me." There's silence on the other line for a few moments. "Y/n, please don't tell Steve," comes a female voice, the sound of sheets shifting like a knife in my chest. "Too fucking late," I reply before hanging up and tuning the phone off. I glance in the mirror a final time and a sudden determination washes over me. I splash my face and with that, I march right back into the party and straight over to Natasha. With an uncharacteristic boldness, I pull her to her feet by the straps of her dress and smash my lips against hers. She tenses for a few moments before meeting me with equal passion, her hands travelling to my hips and pulling me tighter to her body.