Scott Lang: Second Chance
Christmas was a down time for you. It seemed like everyone on the team had someone to spend it with. Steve had Bucky and Sam. Bruce had Natasha, Thor had the Asgardians, Clint had Laura and his kids, Tony had Pepper, T'Challa was in Wakanda with everyone, and Scott had Cassie.
You; however, were stuck in your run down, one bedroom apartment alone, curled up on the couch, drowning your sorrows, hoping being drunk would ward off the lonely. Your mind lingered back, back to Scott, back to where you had screwed up. In the up coming weeks that had been the countdown to Christmas, you had the brilliant idea of telling Scott just how you felt. With shaking hands and trembling knees, you layed it all out, even though you figured it'd blow up in your face. You had always been taught that if you have something to say, say it. If you love someone, tell them. So, you did, laying it all out on the table, with some hope that maybe, for once, something might just work out.
Trying to keep a straight face when he respectfully declined reciprocation of those feeling was hard, but you respected that. You can't make someone love you back. So, you thanked him for at least listening and went on your way.
At least he let me down easy you thought. So now, here you are, drowning your sorrows and loneliness with cheap whiskey and wine with sappy Hallmark movies running on marathon. Yeah, maybe you were feeling sorry for yourself, but heartbreak and having no family will do that to you.
Stupid little girl. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You're an idiot! You repeated the mantra over and over in your head. You hated yourself, hated yourself for holding just a shred of hope that something would work out once for you. Hated yourself for believing someone like him may actually hold those same feeling for you. You hated yourself for how everything went down, for letting it affect your work - it didn't just affect you, it affected everyone on the team when you started trying to avoid Scott entirely.
You felt the salty liquid that brimmed your eyes finally fall down your cheeks, you tried your best to wipe them away, but after a few large gulps of alcohol, you didn't care one way or another where they landed. No longer rubbing your sore, bloodshot eyes was helping them feel a little better, even though the tears had never stopped.
Somewhere along the line exhaustion and drunkenness took a grasp on you, your body falling into the couch, you slept soundly. Something that hadn't happened in quite sometime.
Not even a gentle knock on your door could wake you from your inebriated slumber. Stepping through the, now, open door, Scott came in looking for you. He figured since he didn't have Cassie until tomorrow, he'd pay you a visit with your favorite takeout; knowing you didn't have someone to spend the holiday with.
Placing the bag of styrofoam boxes on the table, Scott walked up to the back of the couch; noticing your curled up body laying peaceful on the couch, gentle breathes making your frame rise and fall. Once he came around the front, ready to wake you, seeing your face made his heart hurt - it broke every part of it.
Even if they were closed, he could see your eyes were red and puffy, cheeks stained with tears. The strong smell of alcohol and the sight of empty whiskey and wine bottles made him sick. An open journal with your scribbles of self deprecation, hatred, and blame for what had happened.
He knew he shouldn't have snooped, but he couldn't help himself. With each word that his eyes read, the more his heart ached to scream the truth; the more he wanted to shake you awake and tell you just how wrong you were about yourself.
I was scared, he'd tell them. I messed up my marriage, I'm a screw up. I couldn't do that to her. She's too good for me, too perfect. I'm just a disaster - she deserves better than me, he told them. If only he could have told you just how he felt that day, for he had loved you for so long.
Oh, how he wanted to jump through the ceiling out of pure happiness that someone like you would actually feel the same way about him. If only he had ran up and wrapped his arms around you, kissing you with everything he had. To take you're hand in his and dance around the kitchen like no one was watching. Anything to show you what he felt, but he didn't. He let fear overtake him.
I tried so hard not to screw up, but I still messed everything up, his mind screamed.
A subconscious shiver racked through your body, causing you to inadvertantly curl into yourself even more. Scott took notice immediately. Tiptoeing to you're room, even though he knew you wouldn't wake up for a while, he grabbed the blanket you had draped over the back of your chair. Unfolding it, he gently covered your body, careful not to break you anymore than he already had.
Watching your peaceful slumber, looking at your physically emotional broken state caused the tears he had been holding back to finally release. Placing a gentle kiss in your hair, his own tears falling into and interlacing with your locks, he cursed himself mentally.
I was so stupid, I was a coward, he chastised his cowardice. Taking in all of you agonized him, it tore him apart to realize he'd never get another chance; that he'd never be able to make things right.
Scott longed to know just what it felt like to have your lips pressed to his; to simply have a small taste of them and to feel the longing, lingering feeling he'd have on his after you pulled away. So badly he wanted explore the most intimate parts of your mind and body; to be able to taste the most intimate, physical parts of you.
Realizing he'd never be able to lace his fingers with yours and pull you close; that he'd never be able to hold you close at night and wake up to sleepy smiles and bed head with you the next morning. It registered to Scott that he most certainly wouldn't be able to get to know just who you are, where you came from, and what you dream of; all the little things that make you who you are.
All the nevers of a reality he wouldn't be able to have with you came crashing down. Grabbing your pen and ripping a blank page from your journal, before he left, Scott scribbled a small note for when you woke up:
I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you like I did. If I wasn't so scared, I would have been able to tell you right then and there just how much you mean to me. I would have been able to tell you I LOVE YOU! You are everything amazing to me and more. If only I had been able to tell you. I failed at my marriage and I failed at not hurting you. Even if I had been able to let you know just how I feel, it'd always be in the back of my head that you deserve better; because you do. I know I'll never deserve it, or you, but if you'll have me and if you'll give me another chance, I swear I'll do anything and everything I can to make you the happiest person on Earth. Whatever you decide, I'll always be here.
You know where to find me,
Xx Scott
