Chapter Text
The soft melody of quiet classical music, idle chatter and champagne clicks are all I hear, even though I’m barely paying attention to it. People I don’t know litter the room, who are mingling, drinking and eating lavish hors-oeuvres. I stare out at the cityscape, visible by the large window of Stark’s penthouse, thinking about nothing in particular, the fizzy taste of peach and lemon on my tongue. I swirl my flute of champagne, the light liquid glistening in the sparkly light above it, before I take another sip. I usually don’t attend Tony’s parties, but I make an exception for fundraiser events like these ones. I see myself in the window’s reflection, illuminated by the lavish lighting.
This was a black-tie affair after all, so I slipped on a red dress I had buried in the back of my closet for the past few weeks. I had been saving it for a special occasion, but no such occasion ever really rose. The silver necklace and earrings I have shine in the reflection as I mindlessly zone out, looking at the night sky and the buildings that poke up to it. I don’t have anyone to talk to at the moment, since Clint and Tony are mingling with the crowd, Thor’s probably at the bar maxing out his drink limit, and Steve– I don’t even want to know. So, I’m just here, standing by my lonesome, sipping champagne while I look out the window like a character in a gothic novel.
“Hey, Nat.” I hear from behind me, and I look over my shoulder to see Bruce standing behind me, one hand holding a flute of champagne and the other in his pocket. He walks up beside me, glancing out at the cityscape I’ve been eyeing.
“Are you okay? You look a bit...” he trails off, not finding the proper words.
“Lonely?” I comment, glancing at him with a small smile.
“I was gonna say uncomfortable, but that too.” He makes eye contact, slipping his hand out of his pocket to hold his glass with both hands.
I look away briefly before faking a small smile.
“What can I say? Parties aren’t my thing.” I take a sip of my champagne, leaving a small, red lipstick mark on the rim.
“Yeah, me neither. Being in a room full of strangers while Tony brags about his inventions isn’t my idea of fun.” Bruce takes a rather large gulp of his drink.
“Where would you go instead of being here?” I ask, trying to start conversation to get my mind off my thoughts.
Bruce pauses to think. “Honestly, I’d just be back in my lab right now.”
I let out a small chuckle. “Really?”
He nods, a small grin tugging at his lips.
“What can I say? Work’s more interesting that this party.”
“That’s fair, but work? You wouldn’t rather be in a library or something?”
“That too.”
A brief silence goes by, before Bruce clears his throat.
“So, what’s got you down? I mean, I can tell it’s not just the party.”
I shift my weight onto my right foot, sipping my drink to stall my answer. “Not sure myself. I’m not in the best place right now, Bruce.”
His gaze softens with concern. “Oh? What’s going on?”
It takes me a bit of time to figure out how to be honest without saying too much, but after a small sip, I sigh.
“Bad breakup. Still has me a bit down.”
“A breakup? I didn’t know you were dating anyone.”
I look down at the fizzy flute in my hands. “I know, it’s… I think we were just figuring out what we were, you know? I just. . . wish I’d done something different.”
He nods with an understanding hum. “That’s rough. But hey, if you need to talk, I’m here. I’ve had my fair share of bad breakups, too.”
I look up, surprised. “Really?”
Bruce nods, a small grin on his face. “Yup,” he looks down at his own drink. “More than I’d like to admit, actually. Dating is messy, and I guess I got the messier end.” He chuckles as he looks back up. “So, if you need to talk to anyone, get some dating advice, I’m your guy.”
I chuckle and grin. “I’ll keep that in mind. And thanks, for hearing me out. Means a lot.”
“No problem, Nat. It’s what friends do.” He smiles in return, and a slight pause goes by.
“Hey, so I’m gonna go get some appetizers. Want me to grab you some?”
“No thanks. I’m not really hungry right now.”
“You sure? They’ve got egg rolls.”
“No, I’m good. But thanks.”
Bruce nods, downs the rest of his champagne and walks away. The conversation was refreshing, I hadn’t really talked about it to anyone, and even though I didn’t really get into details, it still felt like a tiny weight off my chest. By the time he’s out of my field of vision, I’ve already finished my champagne, leaving only a little puddle of it at the bottom of my glass. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get through this night sober, so I might as well try to find the bar. I move into the crowd, people around me are dancing, talking, drinking and having a generally better time than me. Couples waltz to the music, guests clink their glasses together and exchange witty jokes. I look to my right, and I can see Tony boasting about God knows what while investors surround him, buying into his brags. Tony had always been able to sway a crowd with his charms, to an either annoying or amusing degree.
I find my way to the bar and order a Moscow mule, knowing that I’ll need something strong like vodka to get through this boring night, even though I’m the farthest thing from lightweight. Once I get my drink, I take a tentative sip. It’s a lot sweeter than I expected it to be, but it’s still got that signature tang to it, so it’s decent enough. My red painted nails clutch the copper cup as I make my way through the crowd, I’m able to find a little spot to drink in peace, just beside an appetizer table and away from the posh crowd. The tangy burn of the drink on my tongue brings a distraction from my surroundings, even if it’s only for a moment. The alcohol doesn’t distract me from my thoughts though, I still can’t seem to stop thinking about–
“Hey.” I hear directly in front of me. I look up from my drink, and speak of the devil, there he is, standing tall, light blue tie matching those annoyingly enchanting eyes of his. I feel the tension in me slowly turn to irrelevant dust, fading away as I make eye contact. He takes in my appearance, glancing at my outfit and every detail of it with suppressed admiration.
“Hey.” I reply, adjusting my posture.
“You doing alright?”
“Fine. Just a bit…” I trail off, trying to find the right word.
“Uncomfortable?” He adds, and I smirk dryly.
“Is it that obvious? You’re the second person to say that tonight.” I say between a sip of my drink. A silence floats in our conversation. It’s hard to look at him and not remember everything. Dammit, I almost feel annoyed with how casual he’s able to act, when I’m over here, tense, relying on a cup of alcohol to ease myself. Does he even remember? That smile of his makes me simultaneously forget my worries and bring it all back at once.
“You look beautiful, by the way.” Steve says with a warm smile. For a moment, a very brief one, it feels like we’re back in the past, when things were better between us. Back when we’d swear, we’d never part. Little did we know our promises wouldn’t play out like we swore they would. I can’t help but take a moment to look into his eyes, getting lost in that blue vibrancy all over again, just like I used to, getting lost in the nostalgic wonder, that fuzzy feeling in my chest.
“Thanks.” My quiet tone is barely audible, but he still hears it and smiles in response. The way he looks at me, it’s like I never left, like things are just as right as they used to be. The warmness in my chest, the feeling of the tension in me dissipating, it’s so nostalgic. I want to just say everything on my mind, but I can’t. I try to suppress the urge and take a sip of my drink again, because if I know anything, it’s that keeping my mouth shut about this is best for me, him, us and the team. I just need to get over it, and everything will work itself out. That’s what I tell myself, at least.
I don’t know if it’s his presence or the alcohol that’s relaxing me, but by the way the unbearable urge to say something reckless to him slowly takes over my thoughts, I’d wager it’s the alcohol. I should probably get away from him before I say something I’ll regret, but I can’t. It feels like my heels are glued to the tiles, keeping me in place.
“Do you also not know anybody here or is that just me?” Steve comments, trying to lighten the mood and start small talk. I give a dry smile and chuckle despite what I want to do. I don’t want to make small talk and crack jokes; I want to talk about us. I want to tell him about how much I think about him, how much I miss him and how I’m so damn frustrated about how casual he’s acting when I’m over here, not able to get over it. Why does he get to move on but not me? Was what we had even mean anything to him? All of this has me acting like a damn mess, while he just stands there like the Prince Charming he is, like nothing ever happened!
Before I can even stop myself, my thoughts trickle onto my tongue, the alcohol loosening my inhibitions.
“Did it matter to you?” I blurt, which catches Steve’s attention. He takes a sip of his wine and raises a brow.
“Did what matter?” He asks in an infuriatingly oblivious tone.
“Us. Me.” I confess, the words rolling off my tongue so easily, like they’ve always wanted to. It takes him a moment to realize what I mean, before his gaze softens. He’s taken aback, and his mouth hangs open for a moment.
“I–… Nat…”
I can’t help but look away. Another silence goes by, a tenser one. He takes a sip of his wine again, obviously stalling, and I can’t help but feel nervous. I feel like I’m supposed to say something, but I don’t know what. My mind is filled with thoughts of past memories of us together, and how I wish I could have stopped it all from ending. In this very moment, it feels like my heart forgot how to beat, like my lungs have forgotten how to hold air, my eyelids forgetting to blink.
“I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have brought that up…” I mumble, gripping my copper cup tightly.
I can’t look into his sorrowful eyes, nor look at his face knowing I’m the one who brought the memories up. Somehow, it feels like the crowd is so much more populated and cramped, like it’s suffocating me. I feel like I’m being choked with the past, and even though it feels like my lips are sown shut, I’m able to fumble a few words out.
“I need some air.”
Just as I turn my heel and walk toward the nearest exit, I hear him call out from behind me.
“Natasha, wait!” He calls out, but I don’t listen. I can’t face him, I can’t look into his eyes and see just a coworker and friend, I can’t forget, and I can’t be who I need to be. I push through the crowd, trying to find an exit, any exit so I can get out of here. I try not to bump into anyone, in doing so, I nearly trip. I stumble into the elevator and push buttons hastily, trying to get out of here as soon as possible. I let out a shaky breath once the elevator door closes, before pressing my palm to my forehead, trying to wrap my head around what I’ve just done. I can’t believe it; I quite literally ran from my feelings. Do I go back and talk to him? Should I apologize? Damn it, have I made things worse? Fuck it, I’ll just get an Uber home.
That’s what I do, I get out of the building, call an Uber and wait outside in the cold. I press my back against a lamppost, ordering a lift on my phone. I sigh and lean my head back on the streetlight. Letting out a sigh, I cross my arms.
Once I get home, I take a long cold shower to calm myself down. The soft pattering of water calming me down as it makes contact with my body. I step out of the shower, and too tired to do anything else, I lay in bed.
I lay back, curling myself up in the sheets like a crumpled piece of paper, staring up at the ceiling. At my bedside, I hear the vibration of notifications buzzing on my phone, humming loudly against the echoey material of the bedside table. When I pick it up, I see a wall of text notifications, all from Steve.
‘Are you okay?”
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Can we talk?’
I open the app and stare at the notifications, but I don’t reply. I just set it beside me again as I grip my pillow so tight, my nails might rip the fabric. Damnit, was all we had a lie? Did it matter to him? Did he just text me because it would have seemed shallow if he didn’t? I’m too tired and drunk to think this through without getting bluntly frustrated. Burying my face into my palms, I wish I would have just stayed. I don’t know if I’ll be able to face him again after this.