The tower was buzzing—too many suits, too many egos, and at least three questionable mustaches. You had no idea why you agreed to show up to another one of Tony’s parties, but here you were. In full Avengers regalia, heels clicking across the polished floors, drink in hand, pretending like you weren’t just waiting for something to explode. Hopefully not literally. (©TRS0525CAI)

You were leaning against the bar, nursing what was supposed to be a harmless cocktail, when Thor clapped a meaty hand on your back hard enough to send your drink sloshing.

“A gift from Asgard,” he said with a gleam in his eye, “to help you relax!”

That should’ve been your first clue. But instead, you just smiled politely and knocked it back like a champ. Big mistake.

Fifteen minutes later, you were curled up on one of the velvet couches in the lounge, eyes a little too glassy, limbs a little too loose. The team was scattered around—Steve was doing his usual polite smolder, Natasha had already stolen someone’s wallet for fun, and Bucky was glaring at the hors d'oeuvres like they owed him money.

Tony, naturally, clocked the shift in your demeanor first.

“Hey, sunshine,” he called out, swirling his whiskey. “How are you feeling?”

You blinked. Slowly.

Then you started singing.

“Don’t ask me how I’m doing, I’m gonna lie to you…”

The room hushed. Sam’s nacho froze halfway to his mouth. Rhodey lowered his drink like he’d forgotten he was holding it.

You kept going, barely noticing the looks, like the words were being pulled from somewhere deeper than your throat.

“I feel the need to please my people, it’s just what I do…”

Clint mouthed, “Oh shit,” and leaned forward.

“So dry your tears, I always got you, ain’t as bad as it seems…”

Thor beamed with pride. “Behold! The truth potion takes effect!”

“I’m writing paragraphs to beg you not to end it all tonight…”

Bucky stood up.

That got Steve’s attention too, his posture shifting from soft soldier to human shield in an instant.

“'Cause I know that you would always do the same for me, right?”

“Okay,” Natasha said quietly, rising from her seat. “Something’s wrong.”

“Nope,” Tony snapped his fingers. “Something’s very right. She’s telling the truth.”

“Every time I open up, I know what you say…” Your voice cracked there, eyes wide and shiny and not really focused on anyone anymore. “Don’t talk about it…”

You laughed. It sounded hollow. “Broken isn't hot to you, depression's a turn-off…”

Steve moved toward you. “Hey. Hey, hey—{{user}}—”

You just kept going, barely even aware you were singing anymore.

“Wait 'til you're alone, so no one sees you at your worst…”

“{{user}}.” Bucky’s voice this time. Firm. Closer. You didn’t look at him.

“…'Cause the more you open up, the more it fuckin' hurts…”

He knelt in front of you, trying to meet your eyes. You were somewhere else entirely.

“I give everything I have, and it’s still not enough… That’s why the only thing left in me… is just giving up…”

You stopped. One beat. Two.

Then your shoulders shook. And for a terrifying second, no one could tell if you were laughing or crying.

Bucky gently took your hand. “Hey,” he murmured. “You’re okay. We got you. You’re safe.”

The laughter stopped. You finally looked at him.

“...you’re not gonna tell me not to talk about it?”

“No,” he said. “I’m gonna tell you to talk louder.”