The loud ringing of her alarm was enough to stir her awake enough to turn it off, though it was not enough to wake her up enough to pull off the thick blanket that provided her with the warmth and comfort she desperately needed. After only sleeping for three to four hours, with a hungover but still slightly intoxicated, her body felt like death. It almost hurt to move her arms too much in attempt to stretch, though she was unsure of what she had done to make her feel that way. She figured that maybe she danced a little too hard, but she could not remember if she spent the night dancing at all. She could only remember two things: the dinner, and the ride back home with Bucky Barnes.
She already felt sick to her stomach from the amount of alcohol she had consumed last night, but the mere thought of the dinner that was organised specifically for her, made her feel as if she was going to vomit. Her stomach was in knots, constantly twisting and turning, and the distinct memory of her little sister's devastated face only made it worse. Not to mention, but she had an hour to get ready to see her therapist, where the lovely events of the day before would be brought to light.
A quiet groan of annoyance left her lips as she worked up the courage to finally pull the covers back, exposing her body to the cold air. The short black dress she wore to graduation, that she ultimately wore all night and even to bed, was completely ruined. It was stained with red wine and all sorts of alcohol; and the delicate sleeves had been ripped along the arms at some point during the night that she clearly did not care for. Her bare legs were sticky and covered in bruises, from times where she no doubt fell due to her drunken state – but other than these small fixable things, she was fine. Her hair was tangled and covered in vomit, but again, it was something that could be fixable. She had an hour to make herself presentable, and that was more than enough time.
Her feet hit the cold floorboards as she scrambled to her dresser, leaping over the pile of clothes scattered all over her bedroom from the aftermath of yesterday morning. Cans and bottles clinked against the floor, and her feet often pressed against empty packets of chips or candy packets that she had thrown on the floor whenever she had finished. Estella never used to be such a slob before she moved out of her home for real, but things were different now. She did not have the time to clean up after herself, and now that she had finished college, maybe she would get around to it eventually. Key word: eventually.
Her hands pulled back at the cold silver knobs of her dresser, opening the narrow draw to reveal what was left of her clean shirts. Taking the time to gather all of her dirty clothes, putting them in the washer, and then putting them into the dryer, was way too much work for her lately. It took so much time and energy to do such simple tasks, and at times like these when she needed somewhat presentable clothes, she wished that she had just taken the hour out of her day to wash her damn clothes. But, of course, she did not get around to doing that this week – so, all of her 'going out' clothes were dirty and stained.
But here was the real plot twist – a part of her did not really care what clothes she was going to wear to her appointment. She would get to the washing eventually, or maybe she would wait until Matilda finally gave in to do it for her, but either way, she was more than happy to wear an oversized sweatshirt paired with black sweatpants. She would just pair it with a cute handbag and a pair of acrylic frame sunglasses, maybe a pair of nice shoes just so she could pull of some sort of 'trendy' look. It was outside of her usual fashion style, but she was the last person on the Earth to care about her looks right now.
She had not bothered to even attempt at glancing her way in the mirror, for various reasons, as she entered the bathroom and turned on the hot water of the shower. In fact, she avoided it at all costs as she dumped her somewhat neatly folded clothes on the messy counter-top that was still covered in make-up, hair curlers and straighteners, and hair-ties as a result of graduation. Some make-up brushes fell to the tiled floor as the clothes landed on the counter, but Estella chose to ignore the inevitable clean-up she would have to do as she began to undress herself.
The warm water that pattered down against her skin gently soothed her fatigued and sore body; allowing the muscles to relax against the water, letting the pain slowly fade away momentarily. The voices in her head, the ones that spread the negativity down her entire body and the ones that were so loud that it hurt, began to quiet down as she let her head fall back against the stream of warm water. It was only for a moment; just a few seconds of peace and quiet before she subconsciously began to remind herself of all the things she had done to disappoint the people she loved the most.
It was only when she found herself lathering her hair in shampoo that she decided that she needed to come up with a plan of what to say to her therapist. Firstly, since her anxiety levels were increased thanks to her hangover, she planned to have something to take the edge off, which would ultimately help lying to her therapist too. It would also help with her hangover, though that was beside the point. She planned to waltz into Doctor Turner's office, a convincing fake smile plastered on her lips before she would sit down and come up with some bullshit about how great her life is. Maybe throw in some grief to make it a little more convincing, something about missing her dad, but overall, act as if she was not crumbling.
And then maybe, just maybe, she would not have to keep making these appointments and wasting her time. It was the only way to avoid what was really going on in her life. She was sick of talking about it.
"Not you being awake at a reasonable time." Matilda let out a breathy chuckle as she buttered her toast in the kitchen, while Estella continued to dry her hair with her eyes strained on the cupboards.
"You need to get off of TikTok." Estella let out a groan as she threw her wet towel in the washing basket on the floor – Darcy's. She was probably going to go down and wash her clothes, so, it would not hurt to throw in a towel that had not been washed in forever. "I'm seeing Doctor Turner today. That is the only reason why I'm awake right now."
Matilda watched her friend intently, momentarily stopping her actions to analyse her hungover friend who had so obviously began her search for alcohol. "You know, you scared the shit out of me last night. You're so lucky Bucky is a gentlemen, honestly."
Oh, yes – Bucky. The man who was not at all happy, with a grumpy frown that remained on his face the entire ride home, was a true gentlemen. While she was thankful that he was not one of those guys to try and take a drunk girl back to his own apartment, she could not stand that man sometimes. Matilda had the pleasure of meeting the ex-assassin as the gentlemen insisted that he walked Estella all the way to her apartment door, which was just embarrassing, but maybe that was just because a guy had never done that for her before. Nonetheless, Matilda angrily opened the door only for a warm smile to fall upon her face the moment her eyes landed on the attractive man, who apologised profusely for waking her.
Bucky could not even give her a smile; an innocent woman who was just answering the door.
"You know, it's so unnecessary for you to come with me all the way to the door." She slurred grumpily as she stumbled along the long corridor that would lead to the penthouse she shared with her closest friends. Bucky walked alongside her; his hands prepared to grab hold of her at any moment with the lack of balance she seemed to be presenting. "You made it pretty clear that you didn't even wanna be with me this late at night."
"I was taught to make sure girls got home safe always, especially at night." Bucky's eyes scanned the pearly white walls where odd paintings were hung up on, while Estella resisted the urge to roll her eyes and cause another argument. She was not used to being around the presence of a man that truly wanted to ensure her safety; most guys she had been with only cared about what was underneath her clothes – always rushing her into any space, any room, just to be alone with her. It was almost unbelievable to be around a man like Bucky.
"Well, you can go now," Estella swallowed as they began to near the shiny black door at the end of the corridor, her home. "this is where I live."
She could feel the older man judging her for where she had lived, he probably only saw her as some spoilt rich girl, which there was no denying that she was not that. There was more to her than the money and the life her father had given the extremely lucky woman, and not many people knew that person. She was the rich girl who her lost her dad, but inherited half of everything he had to his name – and maybe a part of her was insecure that this was the only version someone like Bucky knew about her.
"Well?" Estella, as usual, began to grow defensive the more the insecurity feeling grew. "Are you going to leave? No one is going to come out of the shadows and kidnap me, James."
Bucky, with his grumpy old-man like stare, leaned forward, leaning in closer to her body, as he knocked his knuckles against the door that stood behind her. She felt her breath hitch in her throat the moment she could feel his breath fanning against her shoulder, and her stomach were instantly in knots. She figured that the hangover was the cause for these strange feelings she had never felt before; though her body very well knew that this was not the case.
"Stella." The warm air from the heated apartment brushed against her back when Matilda opened the door, and Estella turned around sheepishly. She usually had her keys with her to prevent the parental lecture Matilda would no doubt provide her. "Bucky Barnes?"
"Hi." Bucky's eyebrows were furrowed together, and his eyes remained on Stella, despite the dark-haired woman that stood in the doorway. "Make sure she gets some more water and food into her."
"Uh, yeah, of course." Matilda stuttered; her eyes wide in surprise at the man she had seen on the television so many times before in her life. "Thank you for bringing her home."
Bucky nodded his head, and for the first time that night, he finally turned his back to Estella as he began to walked back down the hall.
"Isn't Bucky like a 100 or something?" Darcy chimed in from the couch, a thin blanket draped over her as her squinting eyes stared at her two friends in the kitchen. Mascara had been running down her cheeks and stained around her eyes, and her hair resembled a bird's nest.
"Yeah, something like that – hey, did no one seriously get any drinks last night?" Estella let out a frustrated groan as she slammed a cupboard door shut, twisting on her heels to stare angrily at her two friends.
"It's nine in the morning, Stella." Matilda shook her head like a disappointed mother, in which Estella chose to ignore. "At least wait until noon."
"Darcy?" Estella practically begged.
"I've got Noah's flask in my bedroom, I think." Estella and Matilda stared at the severely hungover woman in confusion – Noah and Darcy? That was a pair neither of the girls thought they would ever see together, especially considering Noah was crazy about a particular 22-year-old Stark. "He's not in there, don't worry. He left earlier this morning, something about his new job."
"You and Noah?" Matilda, like the overbearing mom-friend she is, began to question her friend for information. However, Estella on the other hand, could not care less as she left the kitchen within a matter of seconds in a desperate search for the all-too-familiar flask that she hoped had been re-filled. Much to her dismay, once she had found the flask that had been placed so neatly on the beside table, she found that it was half-empty. She hoped it would be enough to keep her buzzed for the next few hours, at the very least.
"-but, yeah, he's not interested in me." Darcy had finished explaining as Estella wandered into the room, already beginning to gulp down what was left of the Tequila in the flask.
Darcy and Matilda watched their friend in both impressed and concerned stares, and Estella could feel their eyes on her. She was too focused on the strong liquid flowing down her throat like a cold drink on a hot day, though the taste was less than satisfying. She hoped that she would feel a little more satisfied once the effects of the alcohol would kick in, otherwise, she would have to make time to pull into a liquor store on the way to her appointment. That was not ideal, but at this stage, she had only gulped down at least four shots of tequila. She was hoping for at least eight.
Her face scrunched up in disgust at the taste of the alcohol as she threw the flask against the cushions of the couch, right in front of the tips of Darcy's toes. The two friends barely reacted to the throw when Estella began to walk back to her bedroom to brush through her locks, and perhaps they were just in shock that their friend had the audacity to down half a flask like that with no problem so early in the morning. On the other hand, Estella could not care less what her friends thought as she picked up her hair brush from the bathroom counter.
She sat herself down against her unmade but soft bed, allowing her body to sink into the comfort she desperately craved as she began to brush through her damp hair. Her eyes glanced up at the mirror all the way in the bathroom, where she could only see the top of her head, only for a moment – just to see how her hair was appearing. She could not bring herself to stare in the dirty mirror for more than a few seconds, and a part of her felt as though she would not recognise herself. She thought she was doing well in hiding what she had felt for so long, but as time went on and her pain only grew bigger, her body was finding difficulty in pretending that everything was okay.
Her eyes were always red and tired from the lack of sleep and the constant cycle of intoxication, and her hair had always been in a mess of tight knots from her long sleepless nights. Her skin was pale, and her body was fatigued from the lack of nutritious foods she was consuming, and her hands were stuck in shakes that would only disappear when she felt safe. She was pushing her body to its limits, and while she was yet to reach that limit yet, she was not far off. It would only take a few more years before her body began to crumble too, but she did not care. Estella did not care about a lot of things these days.
Her friends were beginning to grow worried, but she had not noticed. She was too busy and stuck on her need to escape the feeling of drowning, even if that meant taking any drug or drink anyone could offer her, to notice even Darcy's growing concern. Matilda often checked on her every morning to make sure that the girl was alive, always having 911 on speed dial just in case something were to happen to her best friend. She debated meeting with Pepper to express her worries and her concerns, though Matilda could not risk ruining her friendship with the one person she cared about most.
Darcy enjoyed the party-side of Estella, though at first, she was hesitant to support the intoxication and highs knowing that her friend was only beginning this dangerous cycle after her father's funeral. She thought it would be something that would last for a few days, maybe a few weeks, but she never thought it would get to the point Estella was at now. She never expected to be woken up to her friend asking for a drink before a therapist appointment, let alone so early in the morning. She began to wonder if it was time to call Pepper too, but just like Matilda, she did not want to make things worse.
"Alright, I'm off," Estella called as she threw her sunglasses on her face, jingling her house keys in her hand. "I'll probably stop by the store on the way back, you guys need anything?"
"What are you going to the store for?" Matilda knew the answer, but she asked anyway.
"For the necessities." Estella smiled sheepishly as her slender fingers gripped the door knob. She could barely see her friend's disappointed facial expression due to the darkness her sunglasses thankfully provided her. "But if you don't need anything, I better get going."
Matilda's eyebrows furrowed together. "Fine. But we need to have a roomies meeting when you get back, okay?"
"And what do we need a meeting for?" Estella tilted her head to the side as her fingers slipped off the knob. "If you guys can't afford the rent or food, you know that I'm more than happy to buy it, I'm not gonna let you starve."
"Not for that." Matilda shook her head and she set her mug of coffee down on the marbled bench, her head turning momentarily to Darcy, to ensure that the girl had been listening. "Your birthday is coming up."
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Estella had never walked so fast out of a building before in her life. Their 'roomies meeting' would not only consist of plans to celebrate the 23rd birthday of Estella Stark, but she knew for a fact that Matilda would not miss out on an opportunity to get the young woman to open about everything she felt. She could not blame her friend for being concerned for her wellbeing with this birthday being the first of many spent without her father, as she would feel the same for Matilda if she experienced the same thing but talking about her dad was something she could barely do with her therapist. Talking to two people who knew him personally at some level, was just something she physically could not do.
Tony had only met Matilda twice in the two years that she had known the girl for, and he had always thought that she was a good influence for Estella. As for Darcy, he was never a big fan of her due to her constant partying and rebellious nature, which was quite ironic that Estella had turned out to act in the same ways that Darcy has. Maybe being around her two friends made it hard to not be reminded of her dad too, but she knew that if she distanced herself away from those girls, she would have nothing. Her friends were all she had at the moment, and she would honestly do anything for them – except talk about what really hurt the most.
She was already not looking forward to her birthday. It would be a weekend full of celebrations, light and happiness, until the media outlets begin to publicize the mere fact that Tony was not here to see his daughter turn twenty-two. Everything would be all fun and big smiles until the paparazzi arrive, desperate for any photo or any glimpse of Estella crumbling so they could sell it to any big magazine for any prize they desire. She could already see the sympathetic eyes, the tight hugs, and the hand-holds of people who she barely knew, who would no doubt tell her how proud her father would be at the 'woman she has become today'.
Her birthday would only be served as another reminder of what she has lost, and how empty her future was going to be without her dad there. It pained her that only a year ago her dad was still alive, and she could still see his wide grin plastered on his lips when Estella had walked into the surprise dinner he and Pepper had organised for her birthday. Matilda and Darcy were there, even Noah and a couple more of her college friends, everyone who cared about her was there. It was almost to sad to think about that girl being completely unaware of what life was going to throw at her within the next few months.
This was all something that would be worth talking about to her therapist, though she was not going to. She would make up some crap about missing him, but that is as far as she planned to go. There was going to be no talk about what it really felt like to spend her first birthday without the man who raised her there. She was not going to talk about the dinner party last night, and she most certainly would not talk about her drunken night. She could not wait to sit in that comfortable, soft chair and practically fall asleep with Doctor Turner's boring questions.
She ignored the heart-pounding feeling in her chest as she entered the elevator that would bring her to her not-so-desired floor. A part of her wished that she did stop by the store to grab something to ease the anxiousness now that the tequila was wearing off; but she remained strong, with the promise of buying alcohol after the session hanging in her mind. It would only be an hour, and maybe that would go fast, but most likely not. Either way, she would survive it.
The quiet ding of the elevator brought her back to reality as the doors opened, forced smiles curving onto her lips to the people that wanted to enter the elevator she was stood in. She forced herself out of the elevator, despite wanting nothing more but to go back to the comfort of her apartment and began to walk down the lively hallway. Bright paintings and pictures of positive quotes scattered the lime green walls, which were cheesy enough for anyone to feel the urge to vomit on the soft grey carpet. Thankfully, she managed to resist her urge all the way to the receptionist desk.
She rested her elbows against the light grey and concrete receptionist desk, a lazy smirk forming on her recently moisturised lips as she stared down at the poor receptionist. Her name was Lisa, a fifty-something year-old woman who had been working there for as long as Stella had been attending her appointments, so at least ten years. She was a lovely lady, really. She had been so kind to Stella over the years, though within the last year, the lady seemed to have lost a passion for her job and her customers in general. Maybe she had just lost her passion to be nice to Stella, who knew, really.
"Hey, Lisa, long time no see." Stella leaned on the desk as Lisa reluctantly rose her gaze, her annoyed blue eyes staring up at the college graduate. "I'm here to check in for my appointment, you know the drill."
"Of course." Lisa tapped away at the keyboard louder than necessary, her thin eyebrows furrowing together and her eyes narrowing at the dimly-lit computer screen in front of her. "Take a seat, Miss Stark. Doctor Turner will be with you in just a few minutes."
"Thanks, Lisa," Stella pushed herself off the desk, her fingers curling around the edge of the desk as leaned her body back. "How's the grandkids?"
"Take a seat, Miss Stark."
"Alright, Lisa, whatever you say." She pushed herself away from the desk and turned on her heels, momentarily ensuring there was an unseen glare sent the receptionists way before turning her attention to the dull waiting area.
Okay, maybe it was not so incredibly dull. Pale blue lounge chairs were scattered around the room up against the lime green walls, with light wooden end tables sitting in between them every two chairs. A coffee table that matched the end tables was sat in the middle of the room with a stack of magazines and small plants laying upon it. A small toy box filled to the brim with stuffed animals and wooden toys sat underneath the table, and the mere sight of it reminded her of her little sister. Morgan would have loved to play with every single one of those toys if she had been here, but Stella hoped that the little girl would never have to enter a therapists office ever in her life. She deserved the world, and Stella did not give her that last night.
As her eyes scanned for a good empty chair, preferably in a corner, her eyes landed upon the only other person in the room – aside from herself and her favourite receptionist, Lisa. Bucky freaking Barnes. He was sat in her chair in the corner of the room, scribbling words, or maybe drawing, in a little brown book in his lap. She instantly rolled her eyes at the sight of him, and if he were any other guy, she would have walked straight out of the clinic. However, for some odd reason she could not quite understand, she found herself drawn to the older man. She figured her consciousness loved to annoy him, she found pleasure seeing his face fall into an annoyed frown as he would attempt to spill from 40s version of an insult out of his mouth. Maybe it was just entertaining for her.
"James Barnes," Stella announced with her lips in a straight line before sitting herself next to the ex-assassin. "Are you following me now?"
Bucky snapped his book closed, as if he feared she could peer over and see the content of the small book. His blue eyes were practically filled with pure annoyance as he reluctantly began to look over at her. His eyes scanned her body, though she could not work out whether this man had the audacity to check her out looking like this, or if he was simply judging her. She assumed it was the second option with the way he stared at her. Her ego hoped for the first option – because despite being hungover, she looked hot.
"Well, I was here first." Bucky shrugged his shoulders. "So, one would assume that you are the stalker."
"Hey, I never called you a stalker." Estella fought back as the pitch of her voice rose in self-defence.
"Sorry." It was obvious this man was not at all apologetic, but she loved it. "I didn't realise your therapist is in the same clinic as... well, mine."
"No shit," She breathed out in disbelief. "Do you see Doctor Turner? She's mine."
She was not sure why it had been shocking news to her that Bucky was seeing a therapist. He would have so many years filled with trauma and torture, so it made sense why he needed to see someone, but she hated herself for never making that connection. Maybe that was why he wanted her to see her therapist in the first place.
"Uh, no, I see Doctor Christina Raynor."
"She any good?"
"I guess. Why?"
Estella shrugged. "I don't like mine very much."
"I've heard good things about Doctor Turner." Bucky shrugged his own shoulders, though his face said it all – the last thing this man wanted to talk about was therapists. "I'd prefer her over mine."
As she opened her mouth to question the professionality of this 'Doctor Christina Raynor', Lisa spoke in her annoyed tone of voice, preventing from Stella to even use her voice. "Miss Stark, Doctor Turner is ready to see you now."
Estella resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she stared blankly at Bucky. "Well, unfortunately, you look nothing like me so we can't swap therapists."
"What a pity." He was not amused by her attempt at a joke. However, she was amused by it, and that was all that really mattered. She chose to ignore his frown stained face and his pouty lips as she rose from the somewhat comfortable seat, flashing one last sarcastic smile toward Bucky before she would enter hell.
The amusement and the fake happy, sarcastic front that she had put up began to fade the further she walked. Her hands grew cold though it was as if they had been placed under a heat lamp with the way they sweat profusely. Her throat felt so swollen she was certain she would lose the ability to breathe; but these were all parts of her that she chose to ignore as walked down the hallway. She also chose to ignore the never-ending décor of 'encouraging' quotes stuck on the sea foam coloured walls, which were not at all as encouraging at the staff hoped.
She almost chose to ignore the wooden door that she now found herself standing in front of, with a golden name tag with her doctor's name written in black capital letters. A part of her wished that she had never called Bucky last night and she hated herself for even involving him in her drunken adventures. After all, if she had never seen Bucky last night, she would never have had to deal with this anxiety right now, as she stood in front of her therapists door. But whether she liked it or not, she was here now, and she was desperate for this appointment to be finished... even if it was yet to begin.
Without hesitation, an eagerness to get the appointment finished with, Stella turned the door cold silver door knob and barged into the small room with lime green walls. Doctor Turner was sat on her padded brown lounge chair, her legs crossed together with a notepad sitting comfortably in her lap. She must have dyed her hair to get rid of the stray grey hairs, because it looked a little browner compared to the last time she had seen her. Poor thing still had not worked out how to find the right shade of foundation, nor how to blend it properly, but still looked great, nonetheless.
"Stella." She kindly greeted as she pointed to the longer couch opposite to her. "Please, sit. It's been a little while since I last saw you."
"I know," Estella chuckled nervously as she moved her body to sit on the comfortable couch. She took a second to thank herself for choosing to wear sunglasses, as the blinds were open the bright sun was seeping through the windows. Doctor Turner liked to work in a light environment; something about how she believed 'a bright room will encourage a bright smile', which was total bullshit. "I've been busy."
"Oh, yes, I can imagine." She nodded her head understandably as a warm smile appeared on her matte pink lips. "I heard you graduated college officially yesterday. Congratulations."
"Thanks."
"How do you feel about graduating?" Doctor Turner cocked an eyebrow curiously as she began to scribble down on her notepad with her black ink pen, the simple action agitating Estella almost immediately. They had not even gotten to the bad stuff yet, and the woman had the audacity to begin writing notes. Maybe she was just getting prepared for the words that she hoped would spill from Estella's mouth. "I understand it might have been hard for you."
"It was fine." Estella sucked in a deep breath as her body melted into the soft couch. "I was a little bit anxious, I guess."
"Why did you feel anxious?" Doctor Turner continued to scribble notes on her notepad.
Estella shrugged her shoulders dramatically, her lips pressed into a thin line as she put up the act that she did not care. Doctor Turner, the poor woman, was not used to the sudden lack of compliance and responses in the young college graduate that sat opposite to her. The doctor had been seeing Estella since she was a pre-teen, when her first spurts of anxiety began to bubble up to the surface around the time her father went missing suddenly. She was in a constant state of stress and concern; because her father was all she had left. Losing him was her worst nightmare. If only that little girl knew what would come in the following years...
But the point was, Estella never hesitated to talk about her feelings and everything going on in her life. Doctor Turner was an excellent therapist; she was gentle, she was patient, and she truly listened to every word that spilled from her client's mouth. She extended appointments for her during harsh times, like when Natasha and Tony died, and even at the beginning of the blip when she lost Peter. She made Estella comfortable enough to open up in a way that her father could almost never do; and now that this girl was barely responsive, she knew something was wrong.
Doctor Turner analysed Estella with her comforting eyes, before a quiet sigh fell past her lips, and she placed the notepad on the end table beside her chair. "Do you think your dad not being there made you feel anxious? From our previous sessions, it seemed that he was your main source of comfort."
"Yeah," She answered truthfully, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "He was my best friend, but I don't really think that's why I was anxious."
Turner tilted her head to the side slightly. "Okay. Is it... perhaps the people? From the newspapers and on television it was pretty clear that there was hundreds there to celebrate yourself and your peers."
"Yup." Estella let out a sigh as she allowed her gaze to fall against her lap, her eyes taking interest into the shaky hands that rests upon her thighs. "There were so many people there. They weren't all there to see me, but I know... I could feel, all of their eyes on me."
"That seems like it was a really uncomfortable situation to be in, Estella. I'm sorry that this was something you had to endure." Her gentle voice so soothing and comforting to Estella's soul that the urge to spill every detail from her life became harder to resist. She wanted to tell this woman everything, not because her head wanted too, but her body did. Her body wanted to get rid of all this pain... but her head did not want the thoughts to pour in. "I know that a lot of those people there would have been proud of you, and how far you've come. Do you think that maybe that was why they stared at you? Or do you perhaps feel as though they stared at you for some other reason?"
Estella scoffed as she forced her walls back up. "How the hell am I supposed to know? I'm just saying, I felt anxious, there were people staring at me, and it was the first time I had go to an event that my dad wasn't there for. You're the therapist here, you tell me."
"I would just like to get to the bottom of the anxiety you experienced, so that perhaps, we could figure out some alternative options for helping you cope with it in the moment." She explained calmly, as a pang of guilt shot through Estella's already shattering heart. "Now, in the last session, you spoke about a dislike to the people of New York, and pretty much all of the world, because of their own hatred toward your father. Do you think that perhaps this could have contributed to the way you felt yesterday?"
Estella's heart sunk further into her chest as confusion began to pour slowly into her mind, taking a few seconds to process Turner's words. Not because the older woman was telling the truth, or because she was asking a genuine question – but because Estella could not work out how she got that information. She had not spoken to the woman since her father died and back then, three weeks ago, she did not hold any resentment towards people yet. She had kept herself locked in her bedroom at the lake house leading up to the funeral, and after that, she was locked in her apartment bedroom. There was no way Estella ever told this woman anything.
"Uh, no, I never told you that." Estella cleared her throat awkwardly, desperately trying to hold the façade of having not a single care in the world. Acting as if she was not in pain was a lot easier than letting it all in. "You've obviously confused me with another client or something."
"No, I haven't, Estella. It's in my notes from our last session, a couple days after your father's funeral. Maybe around sixteen days ago?" Doctor Turner, who had grown slightly flustered as her chubby fingers searched through her pieces of paper to prove her case. Estella immediately knew she was in the right; her last appointment was three weeks ago, prior to her dad's funeral. "You stated, 'it makes me mad that people who hated my dad get to walk around living the life with their family that I can never have, because my dad sacrificed himself so they could live happily. I can't walk around in public without seeing their happy faces—"
"Okay, okay, stop." Estella forced the laughter that tumbled from her mouth though there was nothing funny about this situation. She had tears brimming in her eyes and her lips quivered and trembled terribly; but there was no stopping it. She was not drunk enough to tolerate a session like this. "My last session with you was three weeks ago. That's like, 19, 20... 21! 21 days ago or some shit. I don't know what the hell you're talking about, but this is super messed up."
"Honey, our last session was exactly sixteen days ago. Five days after your father's funeral." Doctor Turner leaned her body forward in her chair after she placed her notepad and jet black pen against the small wooden table that sat beside her chair. "We spoke about the general effects the blip had on you. You seemed to be really struggling."
Estella leaned forward in her own chair as she allowed her head to fall into the palms of her cold but sweaty hands, her eyes squeezing shut as she desperately searched her mind for any memory of this session that apparently occurred. Her mind remained blank, with nothing but a view of a darkness she felt like she was constantly surrounded by; something that continued to pull her down, something that took away all of the memories she needed to live her life. A memory that could have saved her this embarrassment.
"Stella, love, I am about to ask you a very confronting question, but with your mother's history and the signs you are showing me... it is my duty to ensure you receive the best support possible," Estella slowly rose her head, her teary eyes narrowing at her doctor. "Have you been consuming any drugs and/or alcohol?"
Her mother's history? This woman, this doctor, had no right to bring up her mother nor her history of drugs. Sure, Estella was consuming excessive amounts of alcohol every day, but that had nothing to do with a woman who barely raised her daughter – a woman that signed away her parental rights. She was sure that she had not been displaying any signs of being drunk or high either, because her sunglasses hid her glassy eyes and she had showered to make herself look somewhat presentable. She looked like she did every other day, and now, she could not help but question Doctor Turner's capability of working in the mental health sector.
"This is bullshit." Estella let out an amused chuckle, shaking her head in disbelief at her doctor's question. "What I consume, is frankly none of your fucking business."
Turner remained as patient as she was clearly trained to be, only merely nodding her head understandably as a response to her frustrated client. "I'm sorry that my question has upset you. I'm just trying to ensure that you receive the best possible support suited to your needs, that's all."
"If you were just trying to support me, you wouldn't have brought my mother into a conversation about a life she isn't involved in."
Estella could not really understand why her mother was such a sensitive topic, and maybe the whole situation had only caused this outburst because of the anxiety she felt beforehand. The public would compare her to her mother often online and in the newspapers subtly; would Estella carry on her father's legacy, or will she spiral to a world of highs and drunkenness like her mother? The last thing she wanted to be like was her mother, and with her therapist claiming her to be an alcoholic and drug addicted just like Trudy, it drove her insane. It was all just a big mess that Estella desperately needed to get out of. She could not handle one more minute in this hellhole, especially sober.
"Thanks, Doctor Turner, for your wonderful support." Estella stood up and ignored the dizziness she feeling she got from the slight buzz still left in her system, forcing the most sarcastic smile she had ever smiled. "Unfortunately, I've got things to do and places to be. Don't be surprised if I don't make another appointment, honey."
Turner kept her lips sealed, as Estella thankfully expected, and did nothing but watch the young Stark twist on her heels and walk out of that room, ensuring that the door of her office was slammed as hard as possible, of course. The hallway seemed longer than what it had felt when she first entered it a mere fifteen minutes ago, though maybe that was because of the sudden dizziness. She knew that the only thing that would solve her problem right now would to be gulp down as much alcohol as it could take to make her forget about this appointment altogether, and that sole purpose, was the only thing keeping her determination to get the hell out of this place.
She kept her head down and focused on the carpeted floor, mostly in hopes that it would stop the dizziness feeling. All that filled her mind was the thought of alcohol, and a sliver of herself almost began to believe her doctors belief of a possible alcohol addiction, though that mere thought disappeared the moment she found her body colliding with a rock hard body. The chill of cold metal pressed against the accidental exposed skin of her waist in attempt to prevent her body from falling against the carpet, and it kind of felt nice against her hot and flushed skin. But again, Estella seemed to ignore any good aspect of involved in her life.
In an action she hoped would rid of her pent-up anger, she pushed the body away from her and allowed her face to fall into an angry frown. The frown, of course, seemed to have faded in the slightest bit when she found herself staring up at Bucky Barnes with her hands solely planted on his shoulders, in which she ripped away upon realisation. Her heart fluttered in her chest from either embarrassment or some other unknown cause that she could barely process, and she chose to fix her glasses position on her face in attempt to hide the embarrassment she felt.
"Mind telling me why you pushed me as if I was the one that ran into you?" Bucky's face fell into his usual frown, and she wondered if the man ever smiled. Probably not.
"Only if you tell me why it was even worth going to this hellhole." Estella smiled sweetly as Bucky's frown began to fade, replacing with softened and concerned eyes. "I should have never listened to you about coming here."
Her shoulder collided with his hard metal arm in an attempt to annoy him further, though she only ended up with a sore shoulder and desperately trying to play it off as if it caused her no harm. She marched away with her head lowered and hair in her face, to shield the redness that covered her cheeks, her nose and her ears caused from the embarrassment and anger she currently felt. There was no sarcastic goodbye falling past her lips to Lisa as she stomped through the empty waiting room, and she had not bothered to steal any of the free lollipops placed on the counter like she always did. Her mind could only think about the alcohol she was going to consume, just to forget everything that happened today.
Her fingertips pressed at the cold metal buttons of the elevator harshly, just like she would when she was a child with little to no patience. Her dad would be standing behind her, too lost in his thoughts about his new suit technology to notice the way she impatiently hit the buttons, but Pepper did. Pepper would kindly take her hands away from the buttons, and quietly mutter some 'patience' quote before the elevator doors would inevitably open. While Pepper's words often stayed in Estella's head with most situations in life, the mere flashback only caused for Estella to hit the elevator buttons harshly. Pepper was not her mother.
The light ding of the elevator caught her attention as the doors began to open with a slight creak, and Estella could hardly hold the tiniest bit of patience to allow people to exit. She bounced her feet against the ground as she waited for the last person to exit (who seemed like the slowest person on the entire planet) before she barged in, only to spam the elevator buttons several more times and would only feel a sense of peace when the doors began to close. Though the sense of peace was short-lived when she heard the prang of metal against metal, and her heart skipped a beat when she realised Bucky Barnes followed her out of there.
The small elevator room held an awkward silence in the air as the pair stood beside one another, their eyes watching as the silver doors came to a close. Estella's sweaty hand held tightly onto the railing as she prayed that Bucky would not mutter a single word. She was not sure if she could handle another confronting conversation without an ounce of alcohol in her system. Maybe she could not handle having a conversation with Bucky without alcohol, either. He made her body feel something she had never felt before, and because of that, he made her nervous. She was able to control everything in her life, but this feeling... it was out of her control.
"So, Doctor Turner really isn't as good of a doctor as I thought, huh?" It was a small joke that fell past his lips, probably something to lighten the mood. He did not really know Estella, so it would have been hard for him to clear the tension in the air no doubt – and she appreciated him for trying.
"Unless you like doctors who bring up unnecessary bullshit, cause she's perfect for that." Her eyes watched the rectangle shaped screen above the floor numbers, her only indicator of how close they were to the ground floor. The quiet 'ding' echoed in her ears like the sound of pure joy, knowing that she was on step closer to her journey to the consumption of alcohol.
"Hey," Bucky's warm hand wrapped around her wrist as they both stepped out of the elevator, but Estella had attempted to rush off without him. "Do you wanna talk about what happened in there?"
His grip on her wrist was gentle and warm; and although it did not last long, Estella enjoyed the feeling of her skin against his. Before this appointment, before she felt his warm skin and before she found his blue eyes staring at her with more concern than anyone else in her life, she would not dare to talk to Bucky about anything her therapist said in that appointment. And maybe Bucky had only caught her at a moment of weakness, and maybe Estella would regret talking to him about her personal life when she goes to sleep tonight, but right now, talking was what she needed. With a vodka and raspberry, in a short glass with plenty of ice, to wash it all down.
And that was exactly what happened. They walked in the street awkwardly, waiting to pass some sort of restaurant that sold alcohol because they both knew that was the only way Estella was going to get through opening up emotionally. A part of her was second guessing her decision once they had found a small restaurant tucked away near an alley, only because Bucky had already been through so much that she did not want to put more weight on his shoulders. He was not responsible for her... but then she remembered, the only reason he was doing this at all was because of Steve. He was only willing to be there for her because Steve told him too.
So, maybe when she would begin to ramble about everything wrong in her life, Bucky would zone out and just nod his head politely. Which honestly, was all she really needed at the moment. She did not need someone to question her actions or her morals or try to give her advice like literally everyone in her life did. She just needed someone to keep their mouth shut and nod at her every once in a while.
Bucky's phone vibrated against the chocolate brown table they were seated at, and the name 'Raynor' lit up the screen. The ex-winter solider was aware that his doctor would ring him sooner or later, considering that the whole point in his appointments with her was a requirement to make sure he was no longer the Winter Solider. Considering that he was there for an appointment before suddenly following the emotional girl who just so happened to be related to a couple he killed years ago, would be rather concerning to Christina Raynor. Bucky never missed an appointment – and the first time he does, it was for a Stark. But of course, Estella was yet to realise that Bucky never made it to his appointment.
She watched him intently as he answered the phone sheepishly, though she tried her best not to eavesdrop on his conversation with his doctor. She forced her eyes to watch the reddish-pink drink in front of her, that she had already drank half of, her eyes watching the bubbles float to the top in a never-ending cycle. She did not really pay attention to Bucky's conversation at all until instinctively her eyes snapped back up to stare at the man who sat in front of her.
He looked unimpressed as he listened to his doctor on the phone. "Actually, if you let me get one word into this conversation, you'd know that I'm doing exactly what you wanted me to do. Build connections."
Ah, and again, James Buchanan Barnes sent Estella's body into waves of something she could not describe. She readjusted her sunglasses and she shifted in her seat as if she were acting as normal as always, as if he had zero effect on her. Her sweaty hands grabbed at her drink, and she proceeded to down what was left of it, hoping that the alcohol would start to kick in eventually. She needed another drink, though, that was for sure.
"Sorry about that," Bucky shoved his phone in his jacket pocket grumpily. "I missed an appointment."
"No worries." Estella gulped. "Build connections, huh? I guess sometimes I forget you don't really know anyone around here anymore."
"I know people," Bucky shrugged his head as his eyes fell to the glass of water in front of him. "but I don't have friends. Raynor wants me to have friends."
"Are you trying to be friends with me, James?" Estella teased as she placed her elbows on the table, leaning in closer to him and she could have sworn that her knees brushed against his own before he flinched.
"I never said that I wanted friends." Bucky's eyebrows furrowed. "And it's Bucky."
"But like for real, wouldn't that be lonely?" Estella, suddenly curious about everything to do with Bucky's life, become intrigued by the mysterious man that sat opposite to her. She wondered what it would be like to come into a world with no one you grew up knowing, or to find that they are the same age as your grandparents were. It must have been hard. Even harder with Steve gone. "Do you have any family?"
As soon as the questions tumbled from her lips without hesitation, or without even taking a second to think about what she was asking, she could not help but cringe at the very personal questions she allowed herself to ask. They were supposed to be here to talk about her... and here she was, asking him deep questions that were only going to get grumpy answers and potentially turn this whole moment to shit.
"Yeah." Bucky nodded his head as his eyes pierced into her soul. "My sister's kids, and their kids. They don't know who I am, though."
"Oh, I'm sorry." Estella could not imagine what it would be like for Bucky, and maybe she never gave it enough thought. She knew he lost Steve, and she knew that he was all he had left, but she never quite thought how it would feel to come back into a world without any familiar faces. To live without at least your best friend by your side. It made her that little bit more appreciative of Tilly and Pepper; how they were always there for her. She did not want to imagine being in Bucky's position, and not having those women to fall back on when things get bad.
"You've got nothing to apologise for." Bucky sipped at his cold glass of water as his blue eyes burned into her soul, patiently waiting for her to tell her own story. Steve's voice was stuck in the back of his mind, and he was eager to get rid of it. A part of him also wanted to be there for the young woman in front of him, though he found it hard to be vulnerable with her. Steve made it seem like it was so easy. "Maybe just for pushing me earlier, though."
"Yeah, I'm sorry about that." Estella cringed at her own apology, thanks to her ego, and her knees began to bounce uncontrollably. Her eyes eagerly searched for the kind waitress took her order, desperate for another drink to get through this conversation and the tension that hung in the air. "Look, I told you that I don't like my doctor, and you told me to go to the appointment. So, really, you kind of had it coming."
Bucky rolled his eyes at her sarcasm. "What happened?"
Estella never spoke about her biological mother and the issues she endured with anyone, not even her closest of friends, and certainly not someone she barely knew. However, it the atmosphere and the look he continued to give her made her feel like it was okay to talk about it. She could rarely talk about her mother with Tony, but it was an uncomfortable subject for him. He was almost too ashamed to talk about Trudy, and Estella was not sure if it was because she was a one night stand or because of her history. She would never know.
But she never got the dad that would sit down with her and show her the pictures Trudy left behind, like maybe their first date or her holding baby Estella in her arms. The only photos Estella ever had of her mother was what was plastered on news articles and social media whenever anything happened in her life – because everything she did was compared to her mother. She would pray to the starry night as a child, through her floor to ceiling window that looked out to the entire city, praying that she would never be like her mother. But as she sat across from Bucky, she began to realise that she was becoming the person she never wanted to become – and that was why she took her therapists questions so personally. However, this was only a mere thought that would remain in the back of her head, something she would refuse to admit aloud.
"I get compared to my mother in the media a lot. Whenever some big thing happens in my life, they always find a way to tie into what happened to my mom." She stared at the table, finding that Bucky's eyes made her too nervous to look at him properly. "She... she had a very hard time, my bio-mom. My dad won custody over me because of her history with drugs and alcohol. And, uh, well... my phenomenal doctor decided to bring it up. She thinks I've inherited my mom's addictions."
Bucky paused for a moment, though Estella could not work out if he was trying to find the words to say or if he were just processing her story. "I don't like my therapist a lot, either. But I think that's because it's hard to accept help when you know you need it, deep down."
"The thing is though; I don't need her help." She could feel her blood boiling just at his response; though she was unsure why it had unnerved her so much. She knew Bucky was just trying to help, and she did not really know what response she wanted from him, but she hated it, nonetheless. "I'm nothing like my mother and she had no right to even bring it up."
Bucky pursed his lips, holding in everything he truly wanted to say to her, no doubt. She wondered if he would spill a bunch of insulting words that would ultimately end in the biggest argument she would ever have with Bucky, but they both knew they could not let that happen. That was not Bucky. He would never intentionally hurt her already knowing that she was hurting, and he had to be there for her. Realistically, he would have been upset too if he were in her position.
So, he nodded his head understandably and pushed his frustration to the side. "Maybe we'll have to swap therapists, see who has the worst one."
"Sounds like an excellent idea."
Bucky peered down at his watch. "I gotta go soon, I've got a lunch to go."
Her heart sunk at the thought of parting him so soon, and she wanted to punish herself for ever feeling that way. "Building more connections, then?"
"Something like that." Bucky cracked an awkward smile, as the two began to awkwardly stand up and ready themselves for an awkward goodbye. It almost felt like an awkward first date, like a blind first date maybe, and neither of you know how to say goodbye but you both desperately want it to be over. "Um... well. I guess I'll see you around."
Bucky lifted his hand to gently pat her shoulder, and Estella could feel her face growing red with embarrassment. "Yeah, James. For sure."
"Are you going to call me Bucky any time soon?"
"Nope."
"Right..." Bucky sighed. "See you around, Stella."