With a list of names written in his little brown book, Bucky Barnes is determined to make amends for all he has done. But when he can't make amends with the man that saved the world, he has no other option but to turn to his daughter - Estella Stark.
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Her cold hands were tucked into an old sweater Bucky had given her for her journey home; he had insisted that she should keep the item of clothing, though she only insisted that she would give it back to him. Maybe that was just an excuse to see him again, or maybe she truly wanted to give him his property back. She did not really know at this point. Regardless, she was grateful for the extra layer of clothing as she walked along the cold streets of New York City. However, not nearly as grateful compared to the warm apartment that was waiting for her only a block away.
Her cold hands, that almost felt like ice, shakily wrapped themselves around the metal doorknob of her apartment door. A part of her hoped that the apartment had magically cleaned itself so that she did not have to clean up any mess in her hungover state - despite that being the reason why she had to come home, according to Bucky. Only, when she pushed the door open she found that the apartment was left in a worse state compared to the last memory she had of being there. Broken bottles and glass scattered the tiles, with plastic rubbish from bags of chips and candy stuck on the floors. There had been several pizza boxes thrown around the room, stained alcohol on the pearly white walls, and the smell of vomit hung in the air. That was going to be a bitch to clean up.
She swallowed her urge to vomit, with no idea of the locations of her two roommates to help clean and attempted to begin cleaning. Her shaky and cold hands picked up the small pieces of rubbish, trying her best to focus on the smell of her perfume that was left on her clothes rather that the putrid smell of bodily fluids. Her knees hit the cold ground as she crawled around like a child, almost scraping her body across shards of glass all in attempt to get every last piece of plastic in the hallway. She pressed one hand flat against the cold floor as she rose up, her tired eyes focussed on the trash can a few feet away from her. Her heels scraped against the stained tiled floor to the trash, where she opened the lid and threw the plastic in.
"Look who's finally decided to join us." Her eyes snapped up to two figures blocking the sun from shining in her eyes through the window, which she was eternally gratefully for.
Darcy and Matilda, always pulling through when she needed them the most. However, today they did not seem too impressed. Mascara stains covered Darcy's eyes and down her cheeks, as if she had spent all night crying, which initially left Estella concerned for one of her best friends. Her heart pounded through her chest, though she was not sure if it was out of anger for whoever had made her cry or if it was the nerves for what had happened to her. Matilda had stood beside her with her arms crossed over her chest like a disappointed mother, with her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes puppy-like.
"Yeah, sorry, I got caught up with Bucky last night—"
"Oh, so he's not the only guy you've been getting 'caught up' with, huh?" Darcy sneered.
Confused, and hurt by Darcy's comment, Estella looked to Matilda for back up. "What's going on?"
Matilda's glance fell to the floor, her lips remaining sealed. Estella knew that eventually she could not rely on her for guidance; however, she did not think that the day would be today, after her birthday. A part of her could not care less about Darcy's comment and the way she was acting towards her, sometimes she never really felt like a real friend. But Matilda did. Matilda was there for the sleepless nights filled with tears and even vomit, rubbing her back in soothing circles and whispers of comfort in her ears. To see her, the girl that always looked out for her as soon as she came into her life, staring at her like she had destroyed her favourite toy, ripped her heart into two.
