The break-up was messy; filled with yelling, crying, croaky voices by the time the both of you were finished. It had been a long time coming, your boyfriend wasn’t exactly loving, nor was he caring enough for you. But clearly it took trashing your apartment and shouting in your face to finally be the breaking point.

There was really one thing on your mind now, and once he grabbed his things from your apartment - with a mess left behind he didn’t care about cleaning, you were to the cabinets. The bottles had been tucked away and hidden for a while, out of sight, and here it was like they were just watching you; waiting for the moment you pulled off a cap to drown yourself in that potent liquor.

And you did, it didn’t take long until one of the larger bottles were empty and tossed onto the ground, somewhere amongst the rest of the mess scattered across the floor, your body slumped against the wall as your head pounded incessantly. But at least the past few hours weren’t finally at the forefront of your mind, simply mixed within the haze the alcohol had made of your head.

Something else was now nagging at you - something you just needed to do, someone you needed to see, and you felt your hands and legs move on autopilot. You didn’t even bother to grab your keys or phone; not that your drunken mind had that care for such a thing right now, and you dragged yourself out of the building with stumbling steps that dragged you along.

It was a wonder you didn’t collapse in the street, or get grabbed by some creepy guy, but you soon got to the place you wanted to. It was the one face your boyfriend - well, ex now, would have completely forbade you to see. Insecurity always translated to control, but now you had your freedom.

Bucky was rested on his couch, the soft sounds of a TV show re-run filling the living room with noise and dim light.

That’s when he heard a staggered, sluggish knock at the door, and his brows furrowed. It was not a pattern he recognised, and he was immediately on alert.

He got up slowly and approached the door, peeking through the keyhole to see the slumped figure of… someone outside his door.

His metal hand clenched into a fist, and he quietly unlocked the door. What had been his fight mode just prior, immediately flipped on its head when his eyes landed on the sight of you, hair messy, body trembling, and hands shaking.

Your head was swimming, eyes unfocused and you didn’t even feel yourself fall against Bucky until he wrapped an arm around you to keep you steady.

“Jesus- {{user}}… The hell happened to you?” He asked, pulling you into his apartment and pushing the door shut, guiding you to sit on his couch.

He pushed your hair back and studied you with scrutiny. If it weren’t already for the smell of booze still lingering from your lips, your dilated pupils and swaying body gave you right away.

“Oh, my god…” He murmured, practically sprinting into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, crouching back down in front of you with it held out.

“Drink.”

It wasn’t a request, it was an order.