The air was thick and it stuck in my throat as I ran my fingers through my tousled hair. The air was so thick not even a butter knife could cut through, nothing could cut through the fake cloud that looked over the old apartment building. The diseased air was stuck in my lungs and taking up every airway till I was suffocating in its tears.

The light rain soaked into the material of my shirt as I put the last, worn out, torn, card board box in the trunk of my junky car. I ran my fingers through my hair again, slowly climbing the steps back into the apartment building Nat and I shared. Nat and I had shared.

Time seemed to be moving so slowly I felt like I was falling. The bubbling in my stomach was never a good sign and I didn't know if it was because more butterflies were being born as a I watched Nat, who was wearing a simple black tank top, run her fingers through her shoulder length red hair after handing me the last box of my belongings. Or if the bubbling in my stomach was due to the butterflies dying as soon as I slammed the trunk door, the noise echoing off the pieces of my broken heart.

With each step back towards the door, I could hear the glass under my feet break as my heart started aching. The glass was supposed to be a metaphor for my cracking heart. I put a hand up to my chest where my heart pounded. How long before I flatlined? Nat was my medicine. My lifeline.

One of my worn out converse was inside the homey apartment and the other, the other was cemented deep on the last concrete step. I hissed when I hit my head on the doorway, the building was a little small and lopsided. Nat always would warn me before I walked into the threshold. Of course I wouldn't hear her till after.

"You never did win against the doorframe." A small chuckle came tumbling past her plump lips. The small breath filled with so much heavy ness but it was light at the same time. Like packing up all my junk made her feel lighter and my heart couldn't help by constrict. Maybe I was a bigger stress maker than I thought. Or maybe I was over analyzing every single thing.

I chuckled as best as I could so I wouldn't make a fool of myself, "Yeah..."

"Anyway," Nat cleared her throat before standing up a little straighter, "You forgetting anything?"

And right there was the final shot at my heart. Tears visibly welled in my eyes and no matter how much I wanted to turn my gaze, to look away from her emerald eyes so she wouldn't see me cry, I couldn't. The suns rays set behind us and for a passing second I could see her eyes glaze over too.

The agent used to ask me that question throughout the years we were dating. Anytime I would leave the apartment before I moved in, she'd ask me if I forgot anything. I'd tell her no, knowing full well I had left something for her to find. It became a game. I'd leave something for her to find and she'd call me and I'd be right back over, right back into her arms under the blankets where the shitty comedies played. I used to leave stuff over at her place just for an excuse to see her again. After all, we were both agents and hero's and we never knew if today was our last day. We made each second count.

I could tell from the way we were staring into each others eyes we were remembering it all too. All the times I left my suit at her house or a pair of shoes. On the off occasion I'd bring my work home and accidentally leave it there. I knew Natasha didn't mind, she found it rather cute how shy I could be.

"No." I whispered, clearing my throat to try and push down the lump in my throat. My throat was constricting, becoming dry and parched. I knew any second now I was going to break and tears would stream down my face. I wanted to drop down on both knees and beg her to take me back, that I would stop being so stubborn and come to bed when she'd ask, that I'd put the pen down or tell Tony no. But it was too late for begging and spilling words that could give her hope. Would I even change? Or was I scared of simply loosing another person in my life?

Nat nodded her head before sighing, "Well, then I guess this is goodbye."

But I love you.

I sniffed before nodding my head solemnly, picking up the small duffle bag off the porch steps. "I'll see you around, Natasha."

Quickly I turned on my heel and practically fell into the driver seat of my car. Angrily tossing the duffle bag to the passenger seat. I gripped the steering wheel and adjusted my rear view mirror. My breath hitched when I saw the gorgeous red head standing in the doorway, tears now falling down her cheeks they left pink in their wake. My body was numb. I had to stop myself from running towards her and engulfing her in a hug. Nothing was going to change if she took me back, only because I was the problem. I had to fix myself and become better if there was hope for us again.

With a heavy arm I turned on the car, hearing the engine spit and sputter before roaring to life. Reversing I began my drive away from the place I used to call my home. And by home I meant Natasha. Home to me was always a person and now I was homeless.

[...]

I stumbled into Aunt Mays house with my duffel bag in hand, closing the wooden door behind me. The atmosphere was definitely different and I hated it. Out go the movies on the coffee table that we never finished and replace them with People magazine. Out goes the smell of cinnamon apple and replace it with ocean breeze. My nostrils were on fire along with all my senses. I lost my sense of normalcy and now I felt like how Steve must have when he saw the world for the first time. I felt so out of place here.

"Y/n?" My brother Peter said shocked as he walked into the living room.

That was when I broke down. My legs felt like jello and collapsed under me. Peter got to me quickly before I could fall all the way, his arms around my waist as my arms grasped him. I was afraid to let go. I stuffed my face into his neck and just cried.

"What's wrong?" He asked frantically, sitting on the floor with me and rubbing my back.

"I-I lost..." A sob wracked through my body as I tried to vomit up the words that were burning inside my throat, "Nat and I-"

"Hey, it's okay. You don't have to tell me." He whispered softly.

"I can be better, Peter, I promise." I cried loudly, whimpering.

"I know you can, y/n. It's okay." Peter picked me up and carried me to my room, gently placing me on the bed before he crawled in next to me.

I cried till I couldn't cry anymore and eventually I must have fallen asleep. My tears continued to run down my face and onto the cold pillow of my twin bed.