#devious lies

Yet, none of them had the courage to hate you to your face. No, it was always behind your back, a bunch of glances they thought were discreet and whispers as soon as you turned around. You might not be their hero anymore, but you haven’t lost your abilities, and they are aware that you could easily kill any of them in less than a minute. But, instead of letting the anger consumes you, you pretended to not see the fear in their eyes, mixed with hatred. Except that, the longer this situation lasted, the more difficult it became for you to ignore their hostility. You would lie if you said it didn’t bother you to see these emotions replace the admiration that used to sparkle in their eyes.

If you are being honest, you have thought about it, about killing some of them. These thoughts come to your mind more times that you care to admit —; it would be so easy to snap their necks so you will never hear their hateful whispers again.

What do you have to lose anyway?

Nothing you haven’t already. At worst, they will send you in prison, but to your exhausted mind the idea sounded more tempting than repellent. Sometimes, you think about it as a sweet dream, and it brings you some peace —; if you were in prison, you would be blessed with ignorance. If you were in prison, they would have a real reason to use these slurs. If you were in prison, you would eventually be where you deserve to be. But, no matter how many times you thought about it, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it and so, instead, you shut yourself away in your crappy apartment, where you could no longer harm anyone.

—   —   — 

“But you are still a hero,” the man told you. It was months ago, almost a year, and it was the first time you had seen Fury since the events that led you to take a break. 

A break that was coming to an end, and that you were desperately trying to prolong. Unfortunately, the man is as stubborn as you are, and he is determined to convince you to return to the field. He needs you, and that is obvious, even though those words haven’t crossed his lips. You can feel his desperation. 

You disagree with him. 

You are not a hero, and he definitely doesn’t need you. There are dozens of agents more talented than you are, dozens of promising, and less controversial, souls who deserve a chance. He should better abandon you now, and let you rot in your apartment, because he will be disappointed sooner or later. But you didn’t tell him that. Instead, you stayed quiet, because the words were stuck in your throat.

“Don’t tell me that you are that kind of agent?” he asked, to fill the silence. The tone of his voice had changed slightly. There was something petty about it, something that is crawling under your skin —; it is the disappointment that his words carry. Yet, you have no idea what he is talking about —; “that kind of agent”? The worlds held no meaning to you, but you could still feel that they didn’t bode well, and that you didn’t want to be that kind of agent. You can see his eyebrows rise in anticipation of an answer you can’t give him.

“What kind?” you asked back, without any conviction, just because you know that is what he expects. You accompany these words with a sigh.

You are not in the mood for this kind of game. You only want one thing, and it is to go back to your apartment, to slip back into the comfort of your sheets and stay there for days to come. In fact, you may never leave them ever again. That is the only place where you can ignore the world, where all your worries disappear along with the rest. The only place where you do not need to be human, or pretend to be strong, where you can be a mess, and no one would be here to judge.

You were really not comfortable at the idea of coming here, to Fury’s office, at the S.H.I.E.L.D. 's headquarters, and being there makes the feeling even worse. He promised you that no one would know, but how could he be sure? The mere thought that one of them could see you there makes you nervous, and prevents you from concentrating.

What if it happens?

What if, despite Fury’s promises, you run into one of them?

You have no idea what you might tell them if it happens. Is it better to beg for their forgiveness, or would it be too much? You bet they wouldn’t even listen to you, anyway —; they haven’t in the past, why would it be different a year later?

Maybe they won’t even acknowledge you, and you should probably do the same —; but wouldn’t it be worse? You are not sure that you could handle this possibility, that you could walk by the people that once were your family as if they were complete strangers.

Maybe it is better if they decide to scream —; that is what a part of you is craving for, no matter how twisted it can be. Because, if they scream, if they still hate you, it means that they care, right? No one would take some of their time and energy to yell at someone they don’t care about, right? Because it wouldn’t make sense.

“The kind that does it for fame,” he replied, and you could feel the weight of his gaze. It was so intense that it made you want to disappear. You hate it, the way he looks at you, as if he knows all the secrets of your soul, and so you are fidgeting in your seat, unable to stay still because of your nerves.  

“No, I am not,” you sighed the words that you knew the man was expecting you to say, falling right into his trap. You are conscious of it, but you are too exhausted to fight, and it is way much easier to give the man what he wants.

Yet, your voice is full of uncertainty —; does it make you a bad person to want to stop helping people? At least, that is what he seems to be suggesting, and maybe he is not wrong. Maybe the only reason you want to stop is because you are selfish —; anyone with your skills wouldn’t hesitate to save the world. But not you, not anymore. Why? When did you become one of the bad guys, one of those who don’t care about others?

You want to tell him — to yell at him — that it is not about lost celebrity, that it was about being hated by almost every soul living on earth, but the words get stuck in your throat —; what’s the difference, after all? Are you really gonna let people die because they do not like you, is that the kind of person you became? No, it is not, and it will never be.

“Does that mean I can count on you?” he asked, and you answered with a murmured yes, because that is what he wants to hear, and because you only want this conversation to end. From the very moment you sat on this chair, you have been eyeing the exit, and you are more than willing to give the man what he wants in exchange for the right to leave.

—   —   —

“I am a hero,” you whispered in your breath, “and that’s what heroes do,” you added, repeating the sentence once more. You were trying to find a little bravery in this mantra, the one you needed to push your limits a little further. 

Yet, all you find in these words is deep despair, because a part of you knows that they are not true — and you are not a hero. Not anymore. You tried to believe Fury’s lies. You wanted to believe them, and deceive yourself because it gave you a bit of hope, a reason to carry on, but the illusion couldn’t last for eternity.

What’s a hero when they are hated by the whole world? A villain. It has been several years since you lost the title of hero. It is not about your great successes anymore, it is about all the mistakes you have ever made, the ones that make you detestable in the public’s eyes. Now, you are just an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., and a controversial one at that. You are the rotten apple that the direction doesn’t really know what to do with. They might desperately need you — or, more accurately, your skills — but they do not want the world to discover that they didn’t fire you despite what they had announced to ease the minds.

Nevertheless, you had agreed to pretend, and to play Fury’s little games, because you didn’t know what else to do. You have been a little lost since you left the team, and the missions you were regularly sent on were a good distraction, but it has been months now, and you do not have the energy to pretend anymore.

Once this mission is over, the first thing you are going to do is to tell the man that it is over, you are quitting — yeah, you are going to leave the agency, and start a new life. The idea sounds appealing, and warms you heart with an emotion you thought you had forgotten; a will to live. You have waited long enough. You are not sure what you are going to do yet, but you know that it will be better — anything would be better than your current life. It will be a second chance, and a real one this time. Maybe you will change your name, and your face, and so you could be anyone you want to be — someone that no one hates. 

But, for now, the only thing you want is some rest. Slowly, your limbs become numb and, soon enough, you are not able to walk anymore, the ground disappears beneath your feet and you collapse into the snow, your legs unable to support the weight of your body. 

Maybe that is your second chance, you thought. Maybe the afterlife will be gentle.

It is so tempting to just close your eyes, to let the cold soothe your pain, and take all your worries away. You don’t know how long you have been walking, wandering around, waiting for help that may never come — probably for days. Days that seemed like an eternity. You were trapped in a landscape that you would surely have found magnificent, had the circumstances of your presence here been different.

The snow falling from the sky covers everything, and not an ounce of greenery escapes it. Yet, the sight wasn’t comforting — it was threatening, and scary. It was so cold that you couldn’t feel your fingertips. Everything was white, and all looked the same, turning the forest into a maze with no way out. The trees rose up, mocking and oppressive, as if they were only waiting for the moment you would give up.

Be patient. It will be soon, you thought, as your body hit the ground in silence.

You hardly notice you’ve fallen. You don’t even have the strength to try and get up, but maybe you don’t want to. The snow forms a gentle embrace, and you feel it begin to cover you in white too. Soon, you are going to disappear, and you’ll become a part of the landscape — How is it going to take, for nature to hide your body, to make it seem like you have never been here? A few hours? And how long would it take for them to find you? Probably more time. Who is “them”, anyway? You are not sure someone is coming from you, and despite your hopes, it is more likely that they won’t come. Did you forget that you have no one? If people do not care enough to show up at your funerals, do you really think that they would go to the trouble of looking for you in the middle of nowhere? What an idiot you are, you should know, by now, that there is no hope.

No one is coming. 

Even though the idea might sound sad, it brings a small smile to your face, as well as a weird sense of comfort — The peace you’ve been looking for is eventually within your reach. Soon, the world is going to forget your name, and your story. Maybe they won’t even know that you died here, alone in the woods, where no one can find your body.

You have tried to warn them about the situation. A last desperate plea for help to be sent, but you never found out if they got your message because your broken radio had died before they could confirm. Despite being an experienced agent, you have been caught out of guard by the situation — Should you wait for them here, or should you try to find a way back home on your own? The decision was made for you when the enemies started looking for you, there was no way you could escape them by staying in their base. Outside, you could hide more easily, and maybe even find a way out of here.

Yet, the days went by, and all you have done is get lost in the forest, a labyrinth made deadly by the snow and very low temperatures. There is no room for life in this place, and the fact that you survived for a few days is a miracle in itself.

You were perfectly aware of the risks when you accepted the mission. There are always high risks in this profession, and you were prepared to take them all, even the most irrational ones because nothing scared you — That’s your strength, you’ve never shied away from a mission. You knew that it wouldn’t go on forever, and that the risks you were taking would eventually lead to your demise — But who cares? Not you, nor Fury. Maybe it was exactly what you were both looking for-; the man wanted a soldier, and you wanted a way to die with dignity, which is exactly what he offered you.

And so, you accepted every mission he presented to you, worked on every file that was put on your desk without thinking twice about it. There was always a good reason to accept, many lives to save, and countless threats to the world, and for that, you were willing to take the risks that nobody else wanted to take. That’s what heroes do, right? They put their lives in line, for the sake of the population. 

So far, you have done surprisingly well, successfully returning from each of your missions. Yet, you knew it was only a matter of time before you ran out of luck. Maybe your current situation is solely your fault, for thinking that you could keep pushing your limits indefinitely — For forgetting that you are not a hero, only human. The blood between your fingers is there to remind you of that. It is red, as the one of all the people who live on this planet, and you can pretend all you like that you are a hero, but you’ll never be able to escape your condition, that of being human.

Yet, there is something oddly comforting in watching your blood staining the snow. Something that cradles you until your eyes close, something that helps you accept your destiny. These bloodstains are the silent promise that peace will soon arrive, the peace you have waited patiently for for years.

—   —   —

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” the woman screamed, her voice echoing throughout the room. No one dared looking at her, everyone avoiding her gaze. The team had just returned from yet another search mission, one of their last hopes of finding you, only to inform her that they had lost track of you — Again. 

The woman knows that she should not have listened to Clint when he told her that she’d better stay in the Quinjet and rest, something she has clearly been lacking in recent days. He even promised her that he would do his best. They all promised, but it was just lies. 

Natasha has waited for them for hours, obviously unable to rest because she was so consumed with anxiety. She had walked the whole length of the Quinjet more times than she can count, waiting for their return. When they came back empty-handed, she was furious. Not only they didn’t find you, but above all they had lost the only hint of your presence that they had managed to find since the search began, almost a week ago.

If she had been with them, things would have been different. She would have found you, she is sure of it — because she would have refused to come back before that happened.

Everything now seemed hopeless, and everyone was aware of this. That probably explains why they are abiding her gaze, not to escape her anger, but because they do not want to witness the pain they could read in her eyes. The spy had always been good at hiding her emotions, and no one had ever been able to read her — even after you left, two years ago, she remained composed — but her mask had started to crack in the last few days, and everyone could now see her worries. 

Natasha was the one who insisted for the Avengers to come for you, and although she insists that this decision is only motivated by her duty, everyone knows there is more to it than that — Feelings that the years had not erased, strong ones that she had buried, but which were resurfacing since she learned that you were in danger. You are her weakness, you are the only one that can make her lose her temper that easily, it is as if she was suddenly a child again — One with emotions too big for his understanding. It is like two years ago, when she saw the pictures and felt her heart being shattered.

“It is okay, I am sure that we are going to find her,” a voice raised, and it was Fury’s. The man was the only one to be brave enough to do such a thing, the only one who didn’t fear the redhead, even though he was the one who should be most wary. The man is standing on the opposite side of the room, leaning nonchalantly against the wall, his arms crossed — They could have been talking about their next meal, and he would have had the same fucking attitude, she thought. “She is strong, and smart. I am sure she will find a way to survive, do not underestimate her, Romanoff,” he calmly added, but his disastrous attempt to calm the atmosphere has the opposite effect — All she wanted to do was to violently rip the expression on his face, she couldn’t stand the overconfidence she could read on it, and the calmness that didn’t fit with the seriousness of the situation. 

“You know nothing,” she replied through gritted teeth, the only way she had found to not scream at him, “you are just trying to make yourself feel better about what’s happening because it is your fault. One of your agents is going to die, and it is all your fault!” she yelled the last sentence, unable to keep her voice low as she felt the rage building inside her. The man didn’t even care, he sees you as an asset, not as a human.

“She is an agent, Romanoff, and one of the best. It is her job to take risks, and she knew them before accepting the mission. This regrettable accident is no one’s fault,” he said, unimpressed by the redhead’s outburst.

“Oh, please!” she exclaimed with a bitter laugh, “this mission wasn’t risky, it was suicidal, and you are perfectly aware of that. No one in their right mind would have accepted it, but she was vulnerable, and you knew it, and took advantage of her state to get what you wanted!” she had moved closer, until she was almost spitting in his face, until the accusing finger she was pointing at him almost touched his chest. She knows the man and his tricks, she knows that he always finds a way to get what he wants. “I hope it was worth it because, if we don’t find her alive, I’ll make sure to bury you next to her grave,” she spitted, not even trying to hide her threat — No, not a threat. It was more than that, it was a promise. 

Those are the last words she said before leaving the Quinjet.

They have been looking for you for days, and everyone is painfully aware that the chances of finding you are diminishing with every passing minute. Yet, the woman is not ready to stop, not until she has hugged you one last time, dead or alive. Looking for you was no easy task, and every clue they have found eventually led to a dead end — You are too skilled for your own good, she thought, and it was almost frustrating. If it wasn’t for your skills, and your ability to disappear without leaving a trace, they would have found you days ago. If it wasn’t for your skills, Fury would have never sent you on this mission alone, and he definitely wouldn’t have waited for so long before sending a rescue team.

The woman had to beg him, to scream, for him to accept to give in some pieces of information about how you were doing. He said that you were fine. He said that you were fine, but it was just a lie. He looked at her, promising that nothing would happen to you, but he only said that to get her out of his office. As she later learned, the man had no idea of how you were doing because it was a no-contact mission, and if you gave them news, it would only be to share bad ones.

She heard the message you sent, a plea for help playing on a loop in her mind. Despite the poor quality of the transmission, and the cut words that prevented them from understanding your situation clearly, she could feel your fear, one that made her blood run cold — The woman has never heard you being so scared before.

Fury has waited two days before sharing the message with her. He said that he was positive you would find a way out on your own, and it would be too risky to send a team there when they had no idea how the situation was, but she hadn’t listened to him. All the woman could see was how he almost ruined every chance to rescue you for some ego problems, and foolish confidence — Everyone knows that after two days the chances of finding a missing person alive are slim. 

She hates him for that. She hates him for allowing you to die.

Or maybe it is herself that she hates, for letting you down years ago, when you needed her the most — If she hadn't, none of that would have happened, you wouldn’t have taken such risks in the hope of achieving some kind of redemption.

“What do you want?” she asked curtly to the person that was following her. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was — Steve. In recent years, the man had developed the bad habit of following her wherever she went, convinced that she needed him.

“You forgot that,” he said, and she looked over her shoulder at the jacket in his hands. A wry smile appeared on her lips at the sight of the garment.

“Because I don’t need it,” she sighed, her tone as cold as the forest because of how exasperated she was by the way the man was trying to play hero. Maybe he was one for the rest of the world, but the woman definitely didn’t need to be saved, and especially not by a man that is convinced he knows everything better than everyone else.

“And, how exactly, do you expect to be able to help her if you are freezing to death?” He asked, trying to coax her into taking the jacket — But only someone who doesn’t know her well could imagine having any chance of convincing the woman.

“Did you forget where I am from, Roger?” She asked back, stopping in her tracks to face him, the sudden act surprising the man who almost ran into her, “If you are cold, then you can go back to the jet. No one asked you to follow me. So now, shut up or leave me alone,” she warned him before resuming her journey, the man at her heels. Natasha wasn’t walking in the forest for pleasure, and she couldn’t afford any distraction.

The woman has to concentrate to make sure she doesn’t miss any traces of your presence. These are rare, almost imperceptible, and easily hidden by the snow. She needs to be sure that she won’t miss anything, and that is something she can’t do if the centenarian doesn’t stop rambling in her ears.

Fortunately, the message seems to have got through because not a word was spoken for the next hours, and the two Avengers just walked in silence. Only the snow crunching under their feet broke the heavy silence. It had been hours, and the landscape didn’t seem to change, giving the impression that they were walking in place, or that they were going in circles. No matter where her eyes landed, all she could see were snow-covered trees, but that was until she spotted it. It was almost invisible, but there was no way she was going to miss the only thing that wasn’t white in the landscape — A red stop. A spot of blood, probably caused by a few drops, but that was leading to a trail staining the forest’s perfect white coat.

“Wait! Where are you going?” the man exclaimed when he noticed that his partner had run off, but he got no answer. His eyes weren’t as sharp as hers, and so he didn’t notice the stains straight away.

When he finally catches up with the woman, he was so taken aback by the scene that he was unable to move, or speak. It was so unexpected that he felt like he was daydreaming, and wondered if it wasn’t the cold that was causing him to hallucinate.

There, a few meters away from him, the redhead was kneeling in the snow. She was close to a body whose identity was in no doubt — You. Suddenly, all he can see is the rigidity of your body, the bluish tint of your lips, the snow that is covering your face, but above all the scarlet puddle that is staining the snow, so big that no one could miss it.

“Give me the jacket,” she asked him, her tone firm despite the obvious tremor in her voice. Her eyes never leave you, even for a moment, perhaps because she was afraid that you would disappear, and that she would lose you, again. “Steve. The jacket,” she asked again, but more urgently this time, “give me the fucking jacket, and go get the others!” she repeated, and the shout seems to shake the man out of his torpor because he eventually hands her the jacket before running off, in the direction of the jet. 

Natasha didn’t look back, but she heard his footsteps in the snow as he walked away. Now alone, she gently lifts your body, wrapping you in the jacket, and even pulling the hood down your face to protect you from the snow and wind. She can’t help but let her hands linger on your visage, her thumb gently tracing your features, then brushing past your now blue lips to eventually follow the wound on your cheek.

For a few seconds, she allows herself to get lost in the familiarity of your face, but the blood that is left on her thumb after she ran it over your cheek brings her back to reality — You are dying. Maybe you already are, dead. Yet, there is not much she can do before the arrival of the rest of the team, except praying to all the gods whose names she knows, even though she has never believed in them — Please, if you exist, it is the moment to do something good, she thought, and the woman was so deep in her thoughts, trying to keep the last shred of sanity she had, because the last thing you need is for her to lose her temper, that she missed it at first, those words that came out of your mouth.

“What?” she asked, a little abruptly, as her eyes fell on your face. Your expression hadn’t changed, your eyes were still closed, and so were your lips, giving the impression that she had imagined the whisper. “Did you say something?” She nevertheless asked, and several seconds passed in silence. She felt the hope that had made her heart beat being replaced by despair, until she notices the trembling of your lips as they try to come to life. At first, no sound escapes, only a whimper that breaks her heart. “Shh, it is okay, take your time, baby. You can do it,” she quietly encouraged you as she noticed your struggles. 

Her hands cup your face, and the warmth of the contact, accompanied by the circles her thumbs are tracing on your cheeks, is comforting. It helps you to ignore the pain for a moment. The gesture even gave you the strength to talk.

“You..,” you started, but this simple word requires so much effort that you need to catch your breath before continuing. “ ..came..,” you eventually added, the second word coming out as a broken whisper, and the woman has to be close if she wants to understand what you are saying.

“Yes!” She exclaimed, “yes, I did. W- We are all here, baby,” she softly replied, her voice trembling slightly because of emotion, just like her hands as she continued cradling your face. 

They are here? All of them? You thought, and the realization brings tears to your eyes. The woman can also feel tears welling up in her eyes, and you can see them. Yet, she should not cry. She has no right to cry when you need her to be strong and calm your fears. The woman knows it and yet, she can’t stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks. For so long, she had hoped to see you again, prayed for a second chance even though she knew she didn’t deserve it, but she hadn’t imagined that life could be cruel enough to offer her what she most wanted under the worst circumstances — Once again, she was about to lose the most important person in her life.

“Is.. that.. end.. ?” You painfully asked the woman. 

You have once heard a belief saying that the Angel in charge of helping a soul to travel to the other side always takes the appearance of the person the deceased loved the most during their life. You wouldn’t have expected anyone but the redhead to be yours. You may have tried to hate her for years, but the truth is that you have been unable to stop loving the woman.

“Because..,” you continued, but were stopped by a violent coughing fit. “Am.. ready.. now..,” you eventually managed to say. You want nothing more than to touch her face one last time, but your body refuses to listen to your desire and, as you try to move your hand, all you manage to do is to wiggle your fingertips — But it is okay, you thought. You are content enough with being able to see her one last time, and knowing that her comforting touch is the last thing you would feel before Death wraps its arms around your body, taking you somewhere where pain does not exist. 

“The.. end?” The woman repeated after you, a bit confused at your words, and you can tell because of how her eyebrows are knitted together. “Oh no, honey, it is not,” she whispered, trying to bring you a bit of comfort. “You are going to be fine, I promise,” she said, repeating those words a few times, unsure if they are really meant for you.

“I.. know.., I.. believe.. you..,” you whispered back.

“Then stay with me, baby, okay? Keep your eyes open for me, please. Just a few more minutes, and then everything will be fine, I promise. Do you think you can do that for me?” She started rambling when she noticed that you were struggling to keep your eyes open. Yet, it doesn’t seem to work as she watches you slowly slip into unconsciousness. “Tell me, love, where does it hurt? Could you do that for me?” She attempted, hoping that the question would be enough to ground you, to keep you here, with her, until the others arrive.

“Everywhere..,” you whispered, and it was the last thing you said. You were in so much pain that your whole body was numb, and you could barely feel something, unable to tell the difference between your arms and legs.

You are not sure what happened next, or how long it was before the rest of the team arrived, because despite Natasha’s attempts to encourage you to stay awake, you ended up losing consciousness. The last thing you were aware of was the sound of a vehicle, along with a few words that were yelled, and even if you couldn’t understand what they were saying, you were able to grasp the urgency in their tones. The last thing you remember was being lifted. That is when you knew you could do, before the arms that were carrying you were comforting, they were the promise that everything would be fine now.

After all, she promised. Didn’t she?

—   —   —

It was all a lie, when she promised that things would be okay now.

Since the very moment you have opened your eyes, after a few days spent in a coma, the world has been nothing but pain. She had promised you a world where suffering doesn’t exist, but had given you the exact opposite, every day being worse than the one that preceded it. Your wounds won’t heal, and despite the weeks that had passed, you were unable to walk properly, or anything without help. Every step you make, every breath you take, are the reminders of what was taken from you.

You had wished for Death. You had waited for the moment you could leave this world almost impatiently, but when the time eventually came, you were brutally ripped from Its arms. When the woman wrapped her arms around you, wrapping you in a comforting embrace, whispering the promise that everything would be fine now, you naively believed her. It is not before it was too late that you realized your mistake. You have thought that the woman you saw was your angel, but it has only been Natasha, a human, with her flaws and mysteries.

Why did she even decide to come?

The question has not left your mind since you opened your eyes. It raises a feeling of confusion, and anger, because there is no explanation you could think of that would make a bit of sense.

You have not talked since they brought you there, at the compound. It is a place that you’ve never thought you would ever see again, but mostly a place you never wanted to return to. At first, they thought that you just needed a bit of time to adapt, but the days soon became weeks, and you remained locked in your silence despite their many attempts to encourage you to say a few words. The only sounds they have heard coming from you are the whimpers of pain that sometimes fall past your lips.

Natasha has tried to speak to you, but you would always ignore her questions and ramblings. Yet, it has never stopped her from trying. Even though she is not sure that you can hear her, even though whenever she enters your room, she finds you looking out of the window, staring blankly. The woman had stopped closing the shutters a while ago, so you would always have something to look at, but you probably didn’t even notice the difference. It seems that your mind is somewhere else, somewhere she can’t reach.

You are far from here, from this room you hate with your whole heart but that you can’t leave despite your desires. A room that is not yours, and certainly not home despite what they may say, and you would rather be anywhere else, even if it means locking yourself in your thoughts. 

It is something they would have known if they had asked you, but apparently they didn’t think to ask for your opinion when deciding your future. The Avengers Tower is quiet, and comfortable. Somewhere you are familiar with, and where you would be able to get the care you need — The perfect place. The only place. You have no family, no friends, that could have agreed to take care of you until you are back on your feet. The Avengers may not be your family anymore, but they are the only ones who have agreed to bear this responsibility — Or most likely they felt like they had to. You probably want to be here as much as they want you to be there, and you know that they are silently praying that you will go away soon. You are the constant reminder of what they want to forget.

And so, you have slowly found comfort in your own mind. The only place where they can’t bother you, where suffering and time does not exist. Except that, as the days go by, it gets harder to ignore the woman. She is the only one who has never given up, always trying to talk to you when she comes to your room, even though you have never replied once. Whenever she comes to bring your meal, or your medicine, or help you to change, she would stay a bit longer, rambling about anything that comes to her mind — And you hate it. You don’t care about her last mission, nor do you care about the last movie she has seen. 

When she is here, time seems to flow slowly, minutes becoming a painful eternity. You wish the woman would understand your silence as the sign that you don’t want to talk, but it is apparently not a sufficient clue because she has never stopped talking.

The last thing you want is to get out of your caparace, because you don’t want to see what is outside, but it becomes almost impossible to ignore the world when the woman keeps invading your bubble. Her voice, her soft touches,.. they held a new promise — Everything will be fine, she continues saying, but now you know it is not true. You have fallen for her lies one time, and promised to yourself that you wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. These touches didn’t bring you any comfort, only frustration which then turned into anger. You have felt it boiling inside you for days now — Until you couldn’t bear it any more.

“Why?” You whispered. The woman was helping you to put on clean pyjamas, and you think she was rambling about her day when you cut her off with your question.

You are not sure why you have decided to talk that day. You are not even sure that it was your decision, the broken whisper falling past your lips before you could realize what was happening. You wish you could take back your word, but it was too late. The woman was as surprised as you were, judging by the expression on her face. Her lips are moving, but it is her turn to be at a loss of words.

Somehow, the hesitation you could read on her face made yours disappear instantaneously. Suddenly, you didn’t want to stay silent anymore. You wanted to be heard, to get the anger out of your body because you couldn’t bear the weight of it anymore.

“Why?!” You repeated, but this time you yelled the question. At least, it was the intention, but after so much time without talking, the word was nothing like a scream, only a strangled cry. Yet, despite your voice being weak, you realized that you didn’t want to stay quiet anymore — Not now, when you just got it back. Not when there are so many things you want to say, to scream in their faces.

“Why what?” She softly asked, stopping what she was doing for a second. Her hands were resting on your knees as she was talking. You were sitting on the edge of the bed, and had to lower your head a little to meet her eyes. Yet, she doesn’t dare to hold your gaze for more than a few seconds.

You scoff when she looks away, doing the same thing as you can feel tears coming in your eyes. She must not see them. “Playing games, are we?” You said back. Your tone is venomous, your words rude, and meant to hurt the woman, even though she took care of you the past few weeks.

It may sound unfair to treat the woman after all she has done for you — After she saved your life. Yet, she is still the one who dumped you years ago, the one who broke your heart, ruined your life, and made promises she couldn’t keep. The truth is that, if you can’t handle her presence, it is because you know that you don’t want her to be really gone — You shouldn’t, but you want more of it, more of her and her reassuring presence. Her sudden gentleness, after she pushed you away so violently, is building your hopes back up. A feeling that is painful when you know that they would never become a reality.

“Listen,.. I-,” she sighed, but before she could find the right words to answer your questions, you cut her, again. You already had enough, wanting this conversation to end, and now.

“If you can’t give me an honest answer, then I don’t want to listen to you,” you abruptly said, warning the woman that she should carefully choose her next words.

The woman may want to say something, but when she opens her lips, no sound comes out — Because she has no idea what to say. The truth is that Natasha is as confused as you are, the same unanswered questions occupying her mind. She doesn’t know why she went after you, and the lack of response keeps her awake at night. 

The woman simply knew that she needed to be there, that her place was by your side, and no word was strong enough to describe how worried she had been about you all this time, a feeling that has lingered inside her since you left. She pretended not to care, tried to bury these feelings as she had been raised to do, but it never really left.

You had poisoned her soul, her heart.

But you know. You already know the answers to your questions, you only asked because you wanted to hear them from her mouth. You want her to admit that her actions were only guided by her guilt, not by the love she pretends to bear for you, because that is the only way you would be able to get rid of the painful hope that, maybe, things could go back to the way they used to be.

But obviously she wouldn’t say that. 

The great Natasha Romanoff would never admit that she is selfish, and imperfect. 

That she is far from the hero everyone thinks she is.

“Get. out,” you eventually asked the woman. She has hesitated, and missed her chance to say something. “GET OUT,” you yelled when you noticed she was about to protest, “LEAVE ME ALONE,” you added, pushing the woman who was kneeling in front of you with all your strength. When she didn’t budge, it only added to your distress.

For once, she listened to you, and left the room. The door closed behind her with a soft thud, and just like that you found yourself plunged into the silence you’ve been longing for — Yet, it didn’t feel as comforting as you expected it to be.

Somehow, since that day, you have only felt worse. Since you have found your voice again, you only used it to express your anger, yelling at anyone trying to get into your room. It has been several days now, that your cries have been echoing in the tower, making it clear that you wanted to be left alone. If the past few weeks you have been bearing Natasha’s presence, it wasn’t the case anymore, and now the woman couldn’t even do something as simple as knocking at your door without you screaming. You do not want to see, hear, or feel her — Even the mere thought of the redhead was too much.

All of them had tried to step in your room, convinced they would be the one able to calm you down, but everything they achieved was to worsen the situation. Eventually, they stopped coming, giving you the loneliness you thought you wanted — Then why are not feeling better, now that you have what you asked for? 

You are torn apart by contradictory feelings and needs, unable to quite understand what is going on in your mind — It is obvious that you don’t want to see Natasha. And yet, everytime someone other than the woman opened this door, you felt disappointment filling your heart. Maybe that is why you yelled, why you were so angry. 

When they eventually stopped knocking at your door, you caught yourself hoping for them to come back. Your days are now an endless succession of hopes, built up at every sound of footsteps in the corridor, and disappointments, when you eventually hear them going away. She has proven you right, you thought. She has proven to you that she doesn’t care, and you have used up all your tears crying over this idea, days and nights. 

You wish you hadn’t said those things, that you hadn’t screamed at the woman, because you were now missing her presence. Her gentleness may have been annoying, but it has been so long since the last time someone has been this gentle with you, that now it was gone, you were craving to get it back. She gave you a second chance, and you have thrown it away for what? Nothing.

It took a few days before you eventually decided to leave your room. It was not by choice, obviously, and you only agreed to leave the comfort of your bed because of the hunger that was slowly gnawing at your insides. The last meal you got was the same day as the last time you saw Natasha, and you knew you couldn’t go much longer without eating. At first, you told yourself you would endure the pain, that you deserved it for what you did to the woman, but it didn’t make it more bearable, and you eventually gave in.

The plan you made in your mind was easy — Waiting for the night to come, make sure that no one is awake, and then quickly getting down to the kitchen. Only a few minutes, only time to grab some snacks before making it back to the comfort of your room. Yet, you should have known that things never go as they are meant to.

The journey to the kitchen was everything but easy. You have probably been a bit too optimistic about your ability to walk when you thought about your plan. The pain in your leg was so intense that you were only able to take a few steps before collapsing, and had to almost drag yourself down there. Every step felt like running miles, leaving you short of breath. And yet, despite all your efforts, despite your strong will, you were eventually forced to give up when your legs have once again shifted under your weight, leaving you on the ground, unable to get up despite your attempts. 

When even crawling felt too demanding, you were left with no choices but to wait for someone to rescue you. Suddenly, you were submerged by an overwhelming feeling of hopelessness, and shame, that only worsened when you heard footsteps. You didn’t say anything, and only closed your eyes, hiding your tears behind your eyelids. You were softly praying that whoever is here would ignore your limp figure, scattered on the living-room’s floor, and do whatever they came here for as if you weren’t here. 

“Oh sweetie, no.. I won’t do that,” a feminine voice softly said, and you immediately recognize it as Wanda’s. It holds a gentleness that is unique. 

Your suspicions are confirmed a moment later, when the woman kneels beside you. For a second, you thought about pushing her away, especially when her hand brushes your hair out of your face. The witch is aware of that, but she also knows that, deep down,  behind the walls that you’ve built to protect yourself, you were craving for her attention. That’s why the woman didn’t remove her hand right away, a sad smile stretching her lips when she realized how you were leaning into her touch.

“Are you hungry?” She eventually asked, and you opened your eyes, a bit surprised by the sudden question. You blink, twice, unable to give the woman a verbal answer — But she doesn’t need one. She is perfectly aware of why you came downstairs, and she doesn’t need to use her mind-reading abilities to know that, already aware of how you have been refusing to eat anything for the past few days. “Good,” she whispered, careful with her words. She couldn’t risk you shutting down, again. “Because I was cooking, but did way too much for one person,” she explained, smiling.

It is a lie, and you both are aware of that. 

It is past midnight, and the woman was probably just looking for some water. She definitely wasn’t cooking, and is probably not even hungry, but she knows that this innocent lie would help you to feel less guilty. The woman knows how stubborn you can be, and how you would probably have refused if she had proposed to cook you a meal, scared of wasting her time. Yet, she couldn’t let you go back to your room with only a snack. You need energy, if you want to get back on your feet as soon as possible.

“Come here,” she said when you hesitantly nodded, “let me help you,” she added, and you didn’t protest when the woman wrapped her arms around you — Her embrace was soft, and comforting. 

“I got you,” she whispered in your mind, “everything will be fine now,” and, this time, the words felt true. It has been a long time since you felt as safe as you did in the Witch’s arms, the woman being the only one who has never treated you differently, or hated you for what happened years ago. She was the hope that things could work out. 

THE END. —

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Part one. Part two. Part three. the scars in our hearts (bonus part).

I’m going to start with Devious Lies by Parker Huntington, as that is the first NA book I finished reading this week. So this 700 page behemoth of a book features your standard enemies-to-lovers with a little bit of suspense/mystery added in for flavor. Oh, and sprinkled with some SERIOUS angst and brooding on top. It also features an age-gap romance, and is slow-burn. Devious Lies is basically about rich girl Emery Winthrop who, at 18 years old, is forced to forgo her rich girl life when her father goes under investigation for embezzlement and subsequently goes in hiding. When the embezzlement is leaked, this basically screws over everyone who’s employed by Emery’s father and everyone who invested stocks in his company. This includes a HUGE amount of people in the southern town Emery grew up in. This also includes the Prescott brothers, Reed and Nash. Reed is the boy that Emery had the biggest crush on her entire life, but Nash is ultimately the main love interest and POV that we see aside from Emery’s. 

After the whole embezzlement thing which is a huge factor leading to Nash’s father’s death, Nash is pretty much hellbent on seeking revenge on the Winthrops. By the time the story really gets going, Nash is in his 30s and has essentially built a multi-billion dollar enterprise and of course is one hell of an angsty playboy. Emery is around 22 years old, fresh out of college (paid for by herself) and gets hooked up with a job working for Nash. Nash finds out, and makes it his life goal to make Emery’s life as difficult as possible while trying to find out where her dad is hiding. The entire story is about the progression of their relationship and the secrets surrounding the embezzlement. 

So this is probably one of the better angsty love stories I’ve ever read. And that’s saying a lot because I’ve never liked angst all that much (tried it with The Cruel Prince and although I really didn’t like it I actually have been considering giving that trilogy another chance). Angst is usually so... unbelievably NOT well written at all b/c I feel like angsty characters are just angsty without a good enough backstory to defend it. This tends to be more so prominent in contemporary romance novels, or maybe that’s just because I’m a lot pickier when it comes to contemporary romance. But for Devious Lies, I think Huntington does a pretty good job at charging the main characters with believable and understandable angst. Nash grew up almost in poverty and his dad literally worked himself to death while watching trust-fund baby Emery grow up like a southern princess. The embezzlement destroyed Nash’s dad, so I can see why he blames the entirety of the Winthrop family for the hardships he faced growing up. Not to mention, Nash’s life story is the embodiment of a rags-to-riches story so of course he’s going to look down on Emery who supposedly gets millions of dollars per month just from her trust fund. 

Devious Lies is told from two alternating POVS, Emery & Nash, and I think the scene I anticipated the most was when Nash found out that Emery isn’t getting a single penny out of her trust fund and that Emery is actually living in poverty and working to survive, not out of boredom. We know that Emery’s life is incredibly tough from the very beginning, considering her family name is tainted and she owes student loans on top of helping fund someone else’s college tuition. Nash doesn’t find out about this until maybe past the halfway point of the book, and for me that was probably my favorite part of the entire book - the realization of how much of a complete ass he’s been to her and how she really is the last person who deserved to be targeted by his thirst for vengeance. This is also when their relationship hits a major turning point and finally dips out of the ‘enemies’ part of enemies-to-lovers. 

I think my biggest issue with Devious Lies is how unnecessarily long it is. I think it could absolutely be cut down to around 400 pages, since there were a lot of chapters (especially in the very beginning) that could’ve been very easily abridged or completely left out. The first several chapters covers major events from before Emery goes to college and Nash strikes rich, and from what I can tell these chapters are there to lay out character foundations. But Huntington really could have made these SO MUCH shorter and gotten to the actual story way quicker without sacrificing any character building. Just my two cents, although it seems like most reviewers on Goodreads agree with me over this regard. So despite some unnecessary chapters or parts that could have been left out, I think I’d still give this book a solid 4/5 simply because the author managed to write contemporary romantic angst without making me want to die of second-hand embarrassment. Not to mention, the big plot twists near the end of the story were quite well written and totally worth sticking around for in my opinion. 

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Second book is The Wall of Winnipeg and Me by Mariana Zapata. Apparently Zapata is like a god at writing sports romance, and this book was rated #1 on some kind of Goodreads list plus it was like 4 bucks or something so of course I had to check it out. This large book is around 600+ pages, but out of the three books that I’m reviewing in this post today this is DEFINITELY my favorite one of the three. I haven’t read a sports romance since I was 15 and obsessed with the Escape to New Zealand series, so I honestly didn’t know what to expect from this outside of mega muscle dudes and steamy sex scenes with said mega muscle dudes. But this book managed to exceed whatever I was expecting AND to my surprise only had one actual full-blown sex scene. Which was very tactfully placed and made for a beautiful end to a truly slow-burn romance. And by truly, I mean seriously truly slow-burn. My god, I don’t think I’ve ever read a slow-burn as freaking slow as this one. But wow it was so worth the snail pacing of their relationship. Speaking of the relationship, I need to talk about our two main characters.

We’ve got Vanessa who is super in debt and has been working as a famous football player’s (Aiden) assistant in every way possible for two years by the start of the story. She finally has enough in her savings to quit and focus on her graphic design freelance career, so she leaves and over a month later her boss is at her door asking her to marry him so he could get his US citizenship. The rest of the story is about the progression of their relationship after they get married and move in with each other. Unfortunately this book was written solely in Vanessa’s POV, and I say unfortunately because I would’ve really loved to have some Aiden POV chapters too. He’s not exactly a hardcore brooder, but he’s also not super open about himself either so at times it was REALLY hard to gauge what was going on in his brain. Despite this fact, it became really obvious that he was falling for Vanessa because he started doing more and more stuff for her as their relationship progressed. There were so two scenes in particular where all he did was just show up and be endearingly supportive and I was ready to bawl my eyes out over how uplifting it all was. 

The Wall of Winnipeg and Me is just one hell of an uplifting and puts-a-smile-on-your-face type of romance. It’s incredibly slow, and at some parts you may be like “oh my god jUST KISS ALREADY!” but when it all inevitably falls in place by the end you will realize just how worth it the ride was. Zapata does an amazing job of portraying a really healthy loving relationship where both members are just so supportive of each other and genuinely want the best for each other. They are actually relationship goals!! I was actually kind of SAD when I finished this book because despite the happy ending I just needed more wholesomeness. And even more unfortunately, there is no sequel and there is no add-on telling the story from Aiden’s POV. So for anyone who’s looking for a healthy dose of wholesomeness, wants something to tug at their heartstrings, and doesn’t mind just a little bit of sex, this book is 5/5 perfection.

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Last book will be one that I just finished reading about an hour ago, The Kiss Thief by L.J. Shen. Now this one I kind of had to debate on for a little bit before I ultimately decided to read it. I found it on Goodreads around the same time I found The Wall of Winnipeg and Me, but after reading its synopsis the first time I got a little bit turned off by it. Not sure why, and I’m not sure what changed my mind but I ended up giving it a try earlier this afternoon and well well well what do you know I ended up reading it all in almost one sitting. The Kiss Thief, like the previous two books I reviewed in this post, is also a New Adult book (with more graphic scenes than Deviant Lies actually) featuring an enemies-to-lovers relationship between a 19-year-old daughter of a mobster and a 30-year-old US senator. Yep, that’s an 11-year age gap right there. Probably one of the most drastic age gaps I’ve seen in a book, but hey I guess some people are into those. The Chicago mobster’s daughter is named Francesca, and her dad gives her away to Wolfe Keaton for marriage due to reasons that become apparent much later on in the book. This book not only depicts the progression of Francesca and Wolfe’s relationship, but also of Francesca’s growth from a sheltered child into a woman. 

Francesca pretty much grew up as a princess, went to an elite boarding school in Europe for most of her life, and was super sheltered. To top it all off, she belonged to an incredibly old-fashioned “traditional” family where women were not expected to go to college but instead stayed at home and pumped out heirs while their husbands told them what to do. Francesca basically grew up her whole life thinking this was her destiny, along with marrying her childhood crush Angelo. But she gets thrown into Wolfe’s arms pretty quickly and early on in the book, and all hell breaks loose as these two absolutely chaotic crackheads go head-to-head with each other. Wolfe is seeking vengeance (why are all the angsty romance novels always centered around seeking revenge?) over something Francesca’s father did, while Francesca just wants to go home and be with Angelo. But things start to change when Francesca realizes Wolfe is actually willing to offer her certain freedoms that her father would never allow. Some of these freedoms include learning how to drive and going to college. 

While Wolfe is ultimately the hero to our heroine, he’s such an asshat for maybe the first 50% of the book. He’s broken (just like every single male love interest in every single book ever) for reasons that occurred in his past, he’s hell bent on revenge, and he’s vowed to never take a wife or fall in love. Obviously this all changes once he is engaged to Francesca, whose own stubbornness, willpower, and innocence takes him on one hell of a roller coaster of emotions. These two, and their relationship, are incredibly explosive but good god half the time they are SO toxic for each other. Their relationship is like the epitome of that one couple you know where they keep breaking up and getting back together again, or they keep getting into fights due to miscommunication, or they keep cheating on each other because the other did it first. When their relationship is good it’s pretty dang good, but when it goes south everything just turns into a living nightmare. I definitely wouldn’t recommend this book to people who are easily triggered by toxic relationships (and I mean truly emotionally toxic relationships), but outside of that it’s definitely not a bad read at all. The progression of Francesca and Wolfe’s relationship is actually relatively unique because it’s anything but linear. There are so many ups and so many downs, which makes the peaking points even more heart-wrenching in my opinion. Especially towards the end, the scene between Wolfe and Francesca’s father. Oh god, my heart couldn’t take it anymore. After this book I’m going to need to find a nice YA fantasy book that tones down the romance. And the steaminess, because The Kiss Thief definitely had PLENTY of those. I think of the three books I reviewed in this post, The Kiss Thief is the most graphic (although tbh I think its sex scenes are the most well written of the three). I’m thinking this book gets a 4/5 from me because while it’s good, I didn’t think there was anything about it that made it really special for me. It simply told an entertaining story, it had a unique progression of enemies-to-lovers, and the character progression of the heroine was fairly believable. 

"You know what? Do whatever you want," she mumbled, “it’s not as if you were asking for my opinion anyway,” she eventually gave in. Sometimes, you have to know how to pick your battles, and that is one she definitely cannot win, not when all the others seem to appreciate the idea.

"That’s such a great idea!” one exclaimed, and this time it was Peter Parker, “Mr. Stark, do you think they would accept to come again?” he asked the man.

"Obviously!" Tony replied without an ounce of hesitation, laughing at the question. The man thought it was a stupid thing to ask, "she likes you too much to miss your birthday,” he explained, pointing at the redhead while saying those words. "What? She pretends it’s not true, but I know she is lying. I can see right through her and, believe me, she’ll be here,"  he explained when he noticed the confused looks of his teammates.

"Who’s she?" a voice asked, cutting short to Tony’s rambling. That’s the question that has been on everyone’s minds, but that no one dared to ask out loud, except for one of them — And it hasn’t been Natasha, it is Steve that spoke first.

On the contrary, the woman remained silent because she didn’t need words to express herself, a silent conversation taking place between the billionaire and her through a simple glance. Even if she already has her suspicions, and is almost sure that she knows the answer to that question, she wants him to say it, refusing to believe it otherwise.

The moment she saw the box, she was intrigued by it, something drawing the woman to the small package that no one claimed as theirs. It’s almost as if it came out of nowhere, no one knowing who left it here, or what may be inside the black box. At first, she thought it was some joke, but she knew they were being honest when saying they had nothing to do with the gift. And if she had expected a lot of things to be wrapped in the red ribbon, she definitely wasn’t ready for a ghost from her past to emerge from it.

A quick glance before she suddenly closes the box again, that’s all it took for the redhead to know who was behind that gift. The only thing she could think about was how — How did it happen without any of them noticing your presence? Despite the appearances, and the smile she was trying to keep on, the woman was shaken — Why would you do that, more than two years after your break up? Could it be that you are that desperate?

"Is everything okay?" Clint asked, being the only one to seem to notice a change in Natasha’s behavior. At least, everyone had enough restraint to not ask the question that burns their lips — What’s inside the box?

She wouldn’t have answered if one of them had asked. She wouldn’t even have opened the gift if she had known that it was from you, and that’s probably why you left it on the table, avoiding giving it to her directly. Smart girl, she thought. At first sight, the woman couldn’t tell it was coming from you but there was no doubt remaining once she saw the content — There is only one person on Earth that cares enough to give her such a gift. A person that constantly looks after her, guessing what the redhead wasn’t telling.

A person that she used to love. 

A person that couldn’t be here, was she? The woman can’t help but glance around but she can’t find your face. What was she expecting anyway? To see you in the corner of the room with a bright smile and your arms open for her to throw herself in a hug? That was stupid, and so is the hint of hope she felt when she opened the box. The others told her many times she has to turn the page, but she doesn’t seem ready to let you go. Even after two years, she is still craving your presence as much as before.

The thought of it puts to shame the redhead who knows she shouldn’t hold on to the past, especially when the past in question has a pretty face and breaks her heart. Even after what you’ve done to her, she has spent hours crying, praying for you to come back. Even after listening to the others assuring her that she deserves better, she couldn’t forget how you’ve always been the most caring, and strong, and beautiful person she has ever met in her life. 

You weren’t horrible. Were you? 

Sometimes, she thinks you are a monster. 

Sometimes, she thinks she is, for not listening to you that day. 

That day, she let her anger speak for her, something she swore she would never do again. When she started to realize that, maybe, she should’ve listened to your version of the events, it was too late. At the time, she couldn’t bear to hear the sound of your voice or see your voice, but after two years, as the memory of it starts to fade away, she surprised herself to miss it. 

Except that Fury had refused to tell her where you were. She tried to ask nicely, to beg, and even to threaten the man, but none of it worked. He said that you needed time, that you’ll be back when you are ready, not before. Despite her frustration, the woman accepted it. After all, she is the one to blame, the one that puts herself in such a situation. She could only hold on to the fact that, one day, you’ll be back. Right? As the days go by, the likelihood of ever seeing you again is gradually diminishing. Some nights, when she can’t sleep, she stays up, eyes fixed on her laptop’s screen — Maybe she could give fate a helping hand? She knows she could find you easily. Yet, despite her urge to do it, she has always ended up closing her laptop without starting the research. 

She has to trust Fury, she repeats to herself. Even if she sometimes disagrees with the man, even if it’s frustrating, she has to believe him when he says that you are safe.

Some other nights, all she can feel is anger, and hatred. The redhead is lost, and scared, again, something she never thought she would feel again the day you two met. What if it was true, and you really cheated on her? Then, you could do it again if she forgives you, because history always repeats itself, and you are no exception to the rules of the universe. She knows how people tend to promise a lot of things that they don’t mean, especially when they are desperate, which is exactly what you’ve been that day. She couldn’t forget the look on your face when she dragged you out of the building, the despair in those bright eyes, glistening with tears. This is the only thing she can remember when she thinks about you. Not the good moments you’ve shared, only the brutality of the end of your relationship. 

You've abandoned her, and so did she.

It has been three since she last saw you, and almost a year since her birthday party, but the woman couldn’t stop thinking about it. She didn’t take the gift, leaving the jewelry in the box, and the box on a shelf. She hasn't touched it since. How could she when just the sight of it was already too much to bear?

Every day, when she wakes up, it is one of the first things she sees, and one of the last when she goes to sleep. If it doesn’t feel right to the woman to take the gift, it doesn’t feel right to throw it in the bin either, so it stayed here as a constant reminder of what she has done. Every time she thinks she is finally over it, the box rekindles her doubts. There are some things she can’t quite understand about the situation, and why you would give her such a gift, two years after she kicked you out, is one of them.

Maybe it was a poisoned gift. Maybe it was a sick trick to make her feel guilty, a way to get her to crawl back to you. Beside these possibilities, she couldn’t think of any others that were likely, and she was afraid to admit that your plan was working. The box was a permanent reminder of your existence, something she couldn’t get herself to give away because of those dumb feelings she was experiencing. Somehow, she was holding on to that last piece of your years together after she threw away everything else with the help of the team.

The pictures, the clothes, the gifts, even your favorite cutlery has been burned a few days after you left them. It is almost as if you’ve never stepped a foot into the building, as if you’ve never existed. The woman was fine with the idea of pretending that nothing happened — She was fine with the idea of erasing every remaining part of your relationship.

Except that black box. It is stupid how she hangs onto that last proof of the relationship she once had with you. She had burned everything, but she couldn’t get herself to do the same with that gift. Maybe because she knew that she could never erase you completely from her life. She surely could pretend, it is a game she is really good at, but you would always be on the back of her mind because memories don't go away as easily as objects do.

Since she had opened the box, doubt had been creeping inside of her — What if? What if she has been wrong the whole time? What if she should have listened to you? Give you a second chance? That day, her reaction had been dictated by anger and hatred, feelings that still inhabit her soul, but have faded over the years. For two years, she had been sure that she made the right choice — At least, that’s what everyone kept telling the woman, and she listened to their comforting words.

But since she opened the box, she was no longer sure of anything. She wasn’t the one that wanted you gone in the first place. She surely needed a bit of space before being able to talk with you properly, but only a few days, maybe a few weeks, not two years, and definitely not more than that. That little box only worsened her doubt because who would be desperate enough to still cling to the person they betrayed, years after the events? A person truly in love. She had kept her doubts for herself before that day. If she is almost sure of the identity of the person who gave her the box, because there is only one person on that planet that cares enough to gift her something so meaningful, there are still a lot of questions to which she doesn’t have the answers — For example, how did you manage to sneak into the building without everyone knowing? She now knows that someone knew the whole time.

“Tell me,” she firmly asked the man, leaving little room for discussion.

No one pointed out the thing he has said about the mascot, the subject of the conversation quickly changed after that. Except, while they were talking about which flavor the cake should be, Natasha could think of nothing but Tony’s words — “She likes you too much to miss your birthday”, “she pretends it’s not true but I know she is lying.” So when everyone eventually decided to go back to their rooms, around two in the morning, she stayed a bit longer in the common room in hope of getting some information.

“Sorryy, I can’t, I don’t know anything,” the man replied, indifferent to her tone, “anything at all,” he repeated, chuckling like a child who has done something wrong. 

The woman sighs, pinching her nose as she takes a deep breath, trying to not lash out her frustration on the man. The conversation isn’t exactly going the way she had hoped, Tony refusing to answer her question no matter how many times she has already asked. She even tried to blackmail him, but he was persistent in pretending that he didn’t know anything. When he almost falls on the ground trying to get a few steps back, it has been the last straw for the woman. Gladly, someone entered the room before she could hit him so hard that it would have sobered him in an instant.

"Is everything okay?" the voice asked, and both of them immediately shut up to turn their heads toward the woman who just entered the room, Astrid. She is leaning in the doorway, her gaze alternating between Tony and Natasha.

She hates her. Not as much as she hates you, but she still feels resentful toward the agent. When she smiles, when she speaks, even when she is just here, existing, the woman can’t help but hate her from the depths of her heart. Gladly, she rarely sees her, as an agent of the S.H.I.E.L.D., she is only around when they have outstanding missions. If Natasha had a choice, she would’ve thrown her away with you that day. 

"She wants me to admit that her girlfriend was the one in the costume," he immediately replied, "but sshht, we can’t let her know that!" he added, holding his index finger in front of his mouth for a few seconds before leaving the room giggling. 

"I know what happened," she eventually said when she noticed that Natasha was about to leave after a few seconds when they glanced at each other in silence. "Th- That night, in the motel room~," she added, her voice being hesitant. Those words made the redhead stop in her tracks.

"If you're about to rub in my face how you've ruined my life, you can shut up," she immediately cut her, not wanting to listen to the woman, not if it’s to tell her about how she fucked the woman she loves. Her voice was full of anger, just like the murderous look in her eyes. The only thing that prevented the woman from immediately leaving the room was the thing she saw in the other’s eyes. Her attitude betrayed her emotions, a mix of guilt, sadness, and shame, which aroused her curiosity. 

With a nod, she ordered her to continue.

That morning, as many others, you are woken up by your girlfriend’s gentle touches, her fingers slowly tracing circles on your stomach. A hum of satisfaction escapes your lips before your turn around, nuzzling your head further into the crook of her neck.

How could you have known it would be the last time? How could you have possibly guessed that the routine you’ve got used to would be broken so quickly?

Every morning, it is the same thing, and while the former spy has no problems getting up early, you definitely can’t say the same for yourself. She is always awake before you are and, even if she had never admitted it, you are sure that she takes a few minutes to observe your sleeping form. She loves seeing you so peaceful and calm, being able to have a glimpse of your face without those worry lines, without the marks of your anxieties. 

She is always the one who wakes you up, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. There is no better way to start a day than Natasha’s sweet words and caresses. It’s her fault if you never want to get out of bed, wishing every morning that you could stay in that bed, next to her, for the rest of your life. Sometimes, you suggest that you tell the others you are sick, just to spend a day together, but she just laughs, dismissing your idea.

But all the good things must come to an end, right?

"It's time to get up, milaya," she softly said in your ear, her breath tickling your skin, "Astrid won't be happy if you are late again," she added when the only answer you gave her was a groan of discontent.

"They won't say anything if I am late once, it's okay", you mumbled, her words not being enough to convince you to leave the comfort of her arms. 

Especially when you realize that there is nothing to get excited about the day ahead of you, in perspective, only hours spent in an office, listening to men who think they know everything better than you do. Today, you are supposed to attend an important meeting alongside Astrid, and you still don’t know why you volunteered. The thought of the paperwork and the efforts that you will have to put in pretending that you are actually happy to be here definitely don’t worth your pay.

Except that you’ve lied to Natasha, and she knows it. This is definitely not the first time that you are being late, it happens almost every day, to the point that the day you are in time can probably be counted on your hands. Gladly, when you are coming in the S.H.I.E.L.D.’s quarters, it's Astrid who’s your supervisor, and she appears to also be your best friend. Most of the time, she is kind enough to accept to close her eyes on your delays. Today, you came in only ten minutes late, and the woman was somehow impressed, expecting you to be later than that.

“You’re late, again,” she replied, obviously waiting for an excuse that you don't have. She would know if you are lying to her, and you don't have the energy for that kind of game today, and you could see that the woman neither. She was starting to get tired of every day starting with the same bullshit coming from your mouth.

“I am so, so, sorry,” you said to her for what may be the tenth time since you’ve entered the office. She is walking fast, and you are trying to catch up with the black-haired woman, who is also your superior within the S.H.I.E.L.D. “Please, don’t tell Fury,” you begged, but all she did was roll her eyes, and give you a file when you eventually reached her office. You quickly glanced at it before closing it again, your attention focused on the woman, “Astrid, I am serious. He is going to give me more paperwork if you do. Or worse. Imagine if he forces me to train the new recruits, you know I can’t do that again. Please, …,” you added, looking at her imploringly.

“And what do I have in exchange?” she sighed, turning around to look at you, one eyebrow raised. Despite her serious expression, you know she was trying to not laugh. She may be your boss, but above all she is your friend, and you both know that she would never tell Fury about your delays. Even if she has threatened you to do so a few times in the past, she has never actually done it. Yet, this time she felt like she needed something in exchange, she had covered for you enough time for free, and you were happy to thank your friend with whatever she may want.

“Anything you want!” you replied, desperate but no less honest. 

“Tonight, after work, you pay me a drink, deal?” she asked after pretending to think for a few seconds. In reality, she already knew what she wanted from you. She has thought about asking you out since the moment you met, something you’ve never noticed, always reducing her to the role of a friend, and not keeping up on the clues she was leaving you. Tonight, however, she will be clearer than she has ever been.

“Deal!” you immediately said, accepting the proposal without thinking twice about it. "Thank you. Thank you so, so much. You are the best," you added, kissing your friend on the cheek before leaving the room quickly, a sight that made the woman chuckle.

It is a deal that makes you both happy. You have met Astrid at the Academy, when you were both trainees that dreamed of joining the S.H.I.E.L.D. without even knowing if you were good enough for that. The two of you quickly became close — That’s the kind of thing that happens where you are the only two females of your promotion. Either you hate each other over your dead bodies, or you grow so close that you become inseparable. 

Except that, since you've both achieved your dreams and joined S.H.I.E.L.D, something changed in your relationship. It wasn’t your fault, nor hers, that you had less time to see each other, your jobs taking a lot of your time and energy. Then you've been assigned on a long-term mission with the Avengers, and you’ve spent less time at the S.H.I.E.L.D.’s quarters despite still working for the organization. Then you've met Natasha, and you feel like you’ve slightly grown apart from each other after you’ve announced to her your new relationship. On the whole, you had less time to spend with your best friend, and the promises to make up for the lost time have never been kept, not until today. That deal was the perfect occasion to spend a bit of time together outside of the office work.

You both really hoped that this night would make things back as they were before.

"You know, I love her," she confessed to the redhead, her voice being barely louder than a whisper as she felt tears filling her eyes. "Since the day we met, I have loved her. That's what I told her, that night, when we went out," she admitted, and Natasha felt her heart pounding in her chest, her hands were shaking with apprehension, “but she rejected me. She loves you so much, too much," she sadly chuckled, but the redhead felt no relief when she heard those words because they were not explaining the pictures. She can't cry, not now, not in front of that woman.

"Continue," she ordered, feeling that the woman had more to say than that. She already knew that Astrid loved you, you may be the only one that hadn't seen it, or maybe you were pretending, or maybe you were blinded by your love for Natasha.

"I didn't plan to do that, you know," she started, carefully looking at the spy, "but I was so desperate that night, and I-," she said, except she was unable to finish her sentence, the words stuck in her throat.

The past three years, she had kept the truth a secret. At first, she thought it was better that way. The woman was ashamed of her actions, and she was relieved when heard that you’ve been transferred to another department, and she thought that her secret would be safe. Except that, if everyone acted as if you’ve never existed, her mind didn’t allow her to forget. Every hour of every day, you were in her mind, and the longer she thought about that night, the biggesther guilt became, until the burden was too heavy to bear. Tonight, hearing them argue about you, has been the last straw.

“What did you do?” she asked, sensing that something was wrong. She didn’t like the feeling that was creeping inside of her, “what. did. you. do.?” she asked once again, but more firmly that time, when the other didn’t immediately answer her question. As she saw the hesitation, she reduced the distance between them in a second, her hand gripping the collar of Astrid’s shirt that she pins to the wall abruptly, “tell me. Now,” she insisted as the interaction only reinforced the bad feeling she had.

That morning, unlike the others, you woke up alone. There haven’t been the gentle caresses of your girlfriend to wake you up, nor her sweet words to coax you into getting up. No, that day, it was only yourself, draped into the cold sheets, and it felt so strange, the silence and the loneliness of the room. Sadly, it has not been the exception you’ve wished it would be, but only the first of too many mornings like that.

In the sleepy state you were in, it took you a few seconds to realize that something was wrong, and almost a minute before you noticed that you weren’t home. You couldn’t even recognize the place you were in, only knowing that it looked like a hotel, a shitty one if you might say. The room was small, simple, and not-so-comfortable. There was something in the ambience that gave you an uneasy feeling about the whole thing, but you were unable to say what it was exactly.

Your head is throbbing, and you are definitely feeling nauseous, but you know that’s not the problem. Your physical distress isn’t the cause of the weight on your chest, the one that makes your breath aching, it’s something else that your mind can’t comprehend yet. It’s all these inconsistencies. The missing memories of last night, the unknown room, the fact that you are alone,... you don’t remember drinking that much last night. You may not be the most responsible person that planet has known, but you know how to handle yourself. Usually. 

Could you have possibly drunk that much? 

The day has barely started, but you already know it is going to be a rough one. If only you knew how right you were, maybe you would have taken a few more hours of sleep, enjoying the comfortable peace of your old life a bit longer before joining the chaos. Yet, you had no means to guess that your day would go that way. 

It's a note left on the bedside table that answered all your questions, easing some of the worries that were creeping inside of you. Someone has written the following words : “Couldn’t get you home because of how drunk you were. don’t worry about being late today, I won’t tell Fury. however, had to go on a mission, be careful when you go home. I left you a bit of money, it should be enough to pay for the room and an Uber. Love you.” The message might not have been signed, but you can easily recognize Astrid’s handwriting. A smile spreads across your lips as you are reassured, the situation not being as bad as your mind made it look.

Some memories of last night flew back in your mind, but it’s only a glimpse of what happened, a lot of the events staying unknown to yourself. The last thing you can remember is the conversation you had with Astrid, when she admitted that she loved you and you replied that you too, thinking she meant as friends because you couldn’t see her any other way, not when you were already engaged in a relationship. The rest of the exchange is confused, and you are not sure what’s real and what has been made up by alcohol. Even today, you are still not sure. 

Maybe you’ve really drunk too much that night.

Knowing that you’ve been with Astrid the whole time was reassuring, and you are no longer as bothered by the absence of memories. For a moment, you thought you'd been kidnapped by some weird man. As you regain your composure, your thoughts become clearer and you decide that the first thing you should do is to send a message to your girlfriend. She must be so worried, and your heart aches at the thought that you might be a source of problem for the woman you love.

It is not your kind to not keep your promises, and you’ve told her you would be home last night. It is not your kind either to not answer her messages or calls. In reality, you are quite the opposite, always sending her hundreds of messages when you are out with your friends. The only reason she hasn’t got after you is because she knew you were with Astrid, and she trusted you. However, the sweet messages are going to have to wait because, when you try to turn your phone on, you only encounter a black screen, a sign that you’ve run out of battery. Obviously, your friend didn’t think to leave you a charger.

You sigh, admitting your defeat. Shaking your phone surely won’t change the situation. For the moment, there is nothing more you can do, except hoping that Natasha won’t be too angry. As you are getting ready, your mind is focused on how to earn the redhead’s forgiveness — Maybe you could stop to buy her some flowers? You hate it, when the two of you are arguing. It doesn’t happen a lot, but it’s never pretty, and the mere thought that it might happen was already hurting.

As you definitely couldn’t go back to the compound by yourself, not knowing how far you were and being in a pitiful state, you decided to use the money left by Astrid to call a cab, as she instructed you to do. It’s not before you enter the car that you realize how late you actually were. It is almost one in the afternoon, and if you are not an early riser, like your girlfriend who is always up by six at the latest, you rarely get up after ten.

It has been a thirty minutes drive back to the compound, and the whole time you were thinking about two things: taking a shower, and leaning into your girlfriends’ arms. You are so exhausted, physically and mentally, that you’ve decided to skip work today — You were already so late that it wouldn’t make a big difference anyway. The journey was long, and those thirty minutes felt like hours. 

Soon enough, you started to suffocate into your own mind, then skin. You felt so sweaty, and dirty, that it quickly became unbearable. Maybe it was the effects of the alcohol, or maybe because you’ve slept in a seedy motel, but the only thing you wanted was to get rid of the clothes you were wearing and the uncomfortable state you were in as soon as possible.

When you enter the compound, you find it empty, and so is the room you are sharing with the woman. If you frown, you don’t think much about it. If the building is rarely empty, it sometimes happens when emergencies are called. A whine escapes your lips as you realize that, if it’s true, they are going to be mad at you for not being here when they needed it. You can already feel your mind losing itself to self-hatred thoughts, as you mutter to yourself how stupid you are. You are going to need more than a few flowers to earn their forgiveness. The fact that JARVIS confirmed that everyone was at the S.H.I.E.L.D.'s quarters didn’t, you would have preferred to hear that they went to the restaurant without you rather than that.

Tears brimming your eyes, you quickly put your phone to charge. It is only when you get out of the shower, twenty minutes later, that you saw the missed calls and messages from Natasha. The most recent ones were sent a few minutes ago. There were too many of them for you to take time to read everything so you just sent her a quick text that said: “sorry, my battery was dead, and I couldn’t answer your calls. I’ll explain everything, I promise. see you soon. love you.” A message she saw but she didn’t answer, which is unusual and an obvious hint of how angry she probably is.

Despite your decision to not work today, you still end up in the S.H.I.E.L.D.’s quarters. You are almost running in the corridors, going to the meeting room where you find your girlfriend, and the rest of the Avengers. When you stumble into the room, a deadly silence descends. None of them greeted you, and the only reaction you got was Fury’s nod when you started mumbling excuses for your late arrival. While your eyes immediately landed on the redhead, she didn’t glance at you once of the entire meeting. The sight made your heart sink. You love her, but you have to admit that the spy is scary when she has that stern expression on her face, one that leaves no room for discussion.

The safest decision was to sit on the furthest chair, leaving her space until you get the opportunity to explain yourself. Something that you hadn't had a chance to do before a few more hours, when you stumbled into her in the corridors. You have been lost in your mind, having a hard time focusing on your work. Earlier, when the meeting ended, she immediately left the room, not leaving you a chance to exchange a word with her, and it has been bugging you since.

“Please, wait,” you said, already begging the woman. When she heard your voice, she stopped, allowing you to gently grab at her arm so she didn't go. She could, if she wanted to, and a part of her did want to run away, but the rest of her knows that this conversation can’t be avoided. “Listen, I- I am sorry,” you started once you were sure she was willing to listen to your excuses, “I should have warned you, but I couldn’t, my phone’s battery was dead and, and- honestly? I don't remember much of what happened last night. All I know is that once was enough. It won't happen again,” you chuckled sadly. When you woke up that morning, you promised to yourself that it was the last time you drank that much. A promise you kept, and three years later, you still haven’t touched a bottle of alcohol. “I promise, 'tasha. Please, don't be mad at me for that, or at least tell me how I can make up for my mistake,” you said, and the woman knew she had heard enough.

“Seriously?” she scoffed, breaking free of your grip. “I can’t believe you are that stupid,” she said, as she started to walk away. But if she didn’t want to hear the sound of your voice any more, you, however, weren’t done yet.

"I know I’ve made a mistake, but I am fine, isn’t it the most important?” you asked, starting to follow. Except that, when she heard your steps in her back, she accelerated her pace. “I promise to be more careful next time but, you know, I can handle myself for one night. Well, I might have drunk a bit too much, but Astrid was wi~,” you tried to explain, except she cut short your ramblings. To say, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but the woman quickly cut you. She scoffed again, in disbelief this time.

"You are really stupid, aren't you?” she said, stopping in her tracks, and you almost ran into her, surprised by her sudden stop. A few more seconds passed before she turned around to face you, her posture matching her stern expression. “Do you think I don't know what happened last night, with Astrid? Do you really think I wouldn’t have known the truth?” she added, taking a step forward for every question she asked, and you took one back every time, until your back hit the walls. You would certainly have found the situation hot if she didn’t look like she was about to murder you.

“W- what?” you said, “you are mad because I went out with a friend. That’s the problem? Astrid is the problem?" you snapped, starting to feel frustrated about the whole situation. 

You are tired, and the only thing you’ve wanted to do since you opened your eyes that morning — Throwing yourself in your girlfriend’s arms — was impossible to do. You hadn’t expected the woman to give you such a hard time. You knew she could be jealous sometimes, you’ve already had arguments about that in the past, but you’ve always been understanding because you know that her jealousy isn’t caused by a lack of trust. This feeling is fuelled by her own insecurities and past. Except that, that time, it was too much. The way she wouldn't listen to your excuses is seriously hitting on your nerves.

"Don't you dare to lie to me,” she said. For a moment, you thought she was going to hit you, but she took a step back before she could do that. She was angry too, taking deep breaths in an attempt to ease the feeling. “I trusted you,” she eventually added but her tone was different — The anger left her voice, replaced by pain. “I trusted you and, most importantly, I loved you,” she whispered, turning around to see you one last time. “After everything I have done for you, I can't believe that's how you are thanking me. You know, I really thought you were different, better," she laughed, trying very hard to not throw you against the walls or worse, to cry. The most insufferable was the look in your eyes, the false innocence. She was tired of pretending, she had given you enough chances to tell her the truth, “but you’re not,” but now, she was done trying.

That is the last time the two of you talked. The next time you’ve seen her, she hasn’t been kind enough to let you have a chance to explain things. She was done trying, and so were you. The last words she said are still ringing in your head, even years later. Maybe if you'd chased her once again that day, things would have ended differently, but you haven’t moved. You couldn’t, petrified by the conversation that just took place, you have just watched the redhead walking away without glancing back.

It’s only when you enter the break room that you understand the whole conversation you had with Natasha. No one was here, but the walls had been covered with pictures of yourself. At first, you thought it was a prank from your teammates’ but the pictures were all but innocent. You felt your heart sink when you took down one of the photos to get a closer look at it, and tears in your eyes when you realized that you were nude in those.

It was you, in bed, with Astrid. Your face doesn’t entirely show but you can easily recognize yourself and the bed you’ve woken up in that morning. There were dozens of different pictures, but all showed similar scenes: your bodies against each other as you are obviously sharing an intimate moment. Something that you should only share with one person on that Earth. A person that is definitely not Astrid. 

Except that the more you look at those pictures, the more foreign they feel. You are sure you are the one in the pictures, but you are still unable to remember what happened. Slowly, doubt creeps into your heart — Did you drink that much last night? 

So much that you betrayed the woman you swore to love until the sun dies? 

You feel tears welling up in your eyes. You are suddenly overwhelmed by a bunch of emotions that you can’t describe, but that are definitely not pleasant. It is a mix of confusion, anger, guilt, and disgust. The pictures speak for themselves, and they leave little room for doubt about what you were doing — And you were surely not just sleeping. The woman was on top of you, her mouth closed to your neck, maybe she was leaving soft kisses against your skin, maybe she was whispering sweet things in your ears, you don’t know. But the thing you were focused on was her hand hidden by the sheets, leaving only your imagination to complete the scene. It wasn’t the only picture of that kind: they were all picturing similar scenes. You can easily understand her rage and hatred earlier because you are now sharing those feelings with your girlfriend, just for different reasons.

"What's wrong sweetheart?" a voice said, pulling out of your mind. It was Astrid, who just entered the room. She glanced around before looking back at you, a sad smile spreading on her lips when she notices the tears that are soaking your face. and you saw Astrid entering the room. She looks around, a sorry look on her face. "I am sorry,” she started, and you could feel she was looking for the right thing to say, “I- I sent the pictures to the wrong person. When I realized, I tried to explain to Romanoff but, well… you know how she is,” she explained, shrugging as if she was trying to make you believe she had actually tried to, “she wouldn't listen to me, and they- they did that before I could stop them. It doesn’t please me either," she added, reminding you that you weren’t the only one suffering from the situation. Except she seemed to deal with the situation better than you do. As she talked, she slowly walked closer to you, accompanying each of her sentences with a few steps forward until she was close enough to wrap you in her arms. 

You didn’t get the energy to push her away.

"Did we.. ?" you asked, but your voice broke before you could finish your sentence. It felt too difficult to say those words out loud — “Did we hook up? Did I cheat on Natasha?” But the woman doesn’t need the words to be said, she seems to read in your mind the end of your sentence.

"Of course we did, what kind of question is that?" she replied, frowning. She seems to be surprised by your question. For a second, the hand that was slowly caressing the back of your head stopped. The woman pulled back a little, just so she could see your face. "Why? Do you regret it?" she asked, and for an instant she seemed to be genuinely worried about your reaction, "because you didn't seem to last night, when you cried my name,..." she whispered in your ear. You could feel her breath tickling your skin but it wasn’t a pleasant feeling, unlike when Natasha does it.

Everything felt so much. Her voice, her touch, her presence so close to you, was now unbearable. As she remembers the night you’ve spent, a soft smirk spreads on her lips, but you are definitely not sharing her feelings. “Of course we did.” The words loop back into your mind, it seeps in like a poison that quickly takes over your whole being. Soon, you are paralyzed by an awful feeling. It hurts, but at the same time you are not sure you are actually feeling something, your body and mind feeling so foreign to you — If you wanted it, why does it feel so wrong?

At that moment, if you had been able to move, you would have ripped your ears off just so you wouldn’t hear her voice any more, and maybe you would have done the same with your skin. It felt like the only way to get rid of your overwhelming feelings. Suddenly, the reassuring touch of your best friend made you feel gross, and so do her sweet words — But if she said that you did it, and wanted it, then it must be true, right?

You have seen the pictures, they are in your hands, right under your eyes. You can see yourself betraying the woman you love and in those, you really don't give the impression that you didn’t want to. On the contrary.

"No, no, it- it's not that, it’s just…," you eventually managed to say, but you are hesitating and unsure of yourself. There are too many thoughts and words clouding your head, so many ways you could react and yet, none of what you could say or do felt right. "It’s just that I don’t even remember last night,” you admitted, feeling ashamed about it, “I mean, did we- you know,... for real?" you asked softly but you were not even listening to Astrid’s answer, the question was more for yourself in reality. "Sorry, I have to go, see you later", you said, interrupting the woman. Somehow, you regained control over your body, just enough to push the other away and leave the room. You are not sure where you are going, but as far from that room as you can is already a good start.

That's where she found you when she came home that night, sitting on the bathroom's floor, the pictures in your hands.

Your hand is still wrapped tightly around the pictures, but you didn’t notice it. Not before being back home, in the room you are sharing with Natasha — Or were sharing, you thought, unsure about how the situation would unfold. It may be the last time you set a foot in that room that has been your safe place for months. Before you could completely break down, you decided to take a shower, thinking that, maybe, the steaming water would be enough to ease your mind. You took two showers. Then three, then four, and maybe more. You can’t be sure, you’ve stopped counting. All you knew was that it hasn’t been enough to get rid of the uneasy feelings and thoughts. You’ve scrubbed yourself until your skin was so sensitive that even the touch of the towel has been painful — But maybe you deserved it.

The rest of the day is a blur, and you are not sure what time it is. You’ve spent hours on the bathroom’s floor, your left hand clenched around the picture while the right one was holding the towel. Your head was so empty, but so full at the same time. That’s how she found you when she came home that night, and if she had been tempted to wrap you in her arms when she saw your pitiful state, the conversation she just had with the others discouraged her to do so — You didn’t deserve her pity. They are right when they say that you are not the victim: you are the one that cheated on her, and she needs to be firm, stern. You knew how hard it is for the woman to trust someone and yet, you still broke the fate she had put in you after years of making her dream of a better future.

"Oh, so you remember now?" she coldly said to you when she entered the room. You didn’t move, not even your eyes to look at her, but if you did, you would have seen that the woman was leaning in the doorway with her arms crossed. Maybe you would have also seen that her coldness was only a facade, and that she was as close as you were from breaking down. 

You stayed silent, unable to say anything. The words were stuck in your clenched throat, and they aren’t feeling right anyway — How could you defend yourself when you didn't even know what happened exactly? Plus, you weren’t even sure there was something to defend, the pictures speaking for themselves. Even when she started packing your belongings, you didn’t move. For you to move, she had to grab your arm and drag you all the way outside the Avengers’s building by herself. 

She needed you gone, and everyone agreed that it was only for the best. At least for a few weeks, just the time for things to calm down. That’s what she came to announce. The few words that left your mouth were useless, your pleas falling in deaf ears: the decision had already been made, and the sentence was irrevocable. The woman is done with your bullshit. She is done with you, and so you are.

"The pictures, they- they aren't real," she eventually admitted, her voice being barely louder than a whisper as she unburdens herself of this old secret. “I mean, th- they are, but it’s a staging. Nothing happened between us, she- hm, loves you too much to give you away,” she continued, tears filling her eyes as she talks, her voice wavering a little more with each word. "She isn't even conscious in these," she continued when the spy didn’t react. If the black-haired woman thought it was because the other was listening, it was because she didn’t know how to react.

The weight of what she had done left her shoulder, and it was now lingering in the room, where the air was suddenly thick, and almost unbreathable. Natasha felt a weight in her chest that made each breath harder than the previous one. Overcome by surprise, she had let go of the other, stepping back a few steps. Her thoughts were racing, numerous and contradictory, they weren’t coherent enough to allow how to respond in any way. She needed to do something, but she didn’t know what.

“I- I don’t know why I did that. It wasn’t me, that night, you know that, right? That I would usually never ever do something like that,” she started to defend herself when she saw the look on Natasha’s face, “I was so angry, and disappointed, when she refused. I have given her everything since we met, and yet you are the one she chose. I thought that, maybe, with a bit of time she would eventually realize her mistake, … but I was so wrong,” she sighed, and the redhead could see the remnants of that anger in her attitude. A clenching jaw and fists, accompanied with firm words that left no doubt about the resentment she held towards her, and towards you. “That night, I- I wasn’t myself. We’ve already had a few drinks and, you know, it doesn’t mix well with emotions,” she continued, and the woman could feel her anger rising with every word the other spoke. “All I could think about was getting revenge. I wanted to show her she was wrong, that I had so much more to offer than she thought. I wanted her to change her mind, to see me for more than just a friend,” she admitted, her voice being just a whisper as she says the last sentence. “I never thought it would end this way, I swear, you’ve to believe me, Natasha,” and to forgive me. She didn’t say the last words out loud, but she doesn’t need to, her eyes are speaking for herself.

Only, when her gaze met the redhead’s, she didn’t see in her eyes the compassion she had been expecting, only pure hatred, an emotion that had quickly replaced the initial surprise. Not even a word was addressed to her as the other left the room, leaving her alone to dry her tears.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Part one. Part two. Part three. the scars in our hearts (bonus part).

Sometimes, when you think about the events, you surprise yourself by siding with them. It’s easier to think that you deserve what they are doing to you than to accept the injustice of the situation, which you can’t do anything about. After all, the proof was against you. You’ve seen the pictures, everyone has seen them, and they felt so real that your certainties have faltered. How to convince them that you are innocent when you are not even sure yourself? Eventually, you gave in, it is a battle you couldn’t win.

“When is it, already?” you sighed, eventually giving in. An argument against Tony Stark was another battle you knew you couldn’t win.

The man has been the only exception. He has watched over you from afar, and believed your version of the events. For once, he has listened, and it means the world to you. So even if you try to not wince at the enthusiasm he lets out on the other end of the phone, a part of you is happy. It doesn’t matter if things don't go well, at least that would have pleased the billionaire, and you owe it to him, even if you couldn’t match his enthusiasm, too anxious for that.

For a second, you thought about changing your mind. Your fingers were a centimeter away from the interphone, but you haven’t rung the bell yet. It would be so easy to listen to your instinct that is screaming at you to run away. It would be so easy to break the promise you’ve made to Tony, he wouldn’t mind right? Yes, despite the disappointment, he would understand that you couldn’t do that. It was too early and too much. You shouldn’t even have taken that call, it is always a bad idea to trust a billionaire, especially when his last name is Stark.

The last time you’ve set foot in the Avengers Tower, it has been two years ago. You haven’t seen them since, only their pictures in the news. One time, you’ve thought about going to one of those press conferences they hold sometimes, but you knew you wouldn’t be welcome — Maybe they even added your name to the list of bans. You aren’t welcome anywhere near them, they made it clear when they threw you away.

It is as if all the years spent by their side have been erased. Even the world seems to have forgotten your name. It is almost as if you have never been a part of the Avengers, as if you’ve never existed, and it was just something you mind made.

Maybe it’s for the best, you thought.

Yet, here you are. In front of the building you left years ago, promising to yourself that you’ll never come back in here. That day, you felt so humiliated that you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t add the shame to crawl back at their feet, begging for their forgiveness. No, no matter how bad you were craving to throw yourself in their arms, you won’t. Never, ever. Except that, sometimes, circumstances change, and you find yourself unable to refuse your friend’s crazy invitation, despite the dangerousness of his plan.

“Pl- please, ‘tasha, let me ex~,” you were begging the woman. It wasn’t your kind but exceptional situations call for exceptional reactions, and the one you found yourself in certainly was. 

Tears aren’t your style either, nor it’s Natasha’s. Yet, both of your cheeks are stained with them, your eyes reddened. She is angry, and you are frustrated. She is full of hatred, and you are full of despair. But, today, something broke in both your hearts.

“Shut up,” she said firmly, not giving you a chance to explain yourself. She didn’t want to hear a word from your bullshit. None of them want to. “You’ve lost the right to call me that way,” she added, spitting every one of those hate-filled words in your face, “honestly, you’ve even lost the right to talk to me. I don’t want to hear your voice or to see your face ever again. Did I make myself clear?” she yelled. You would have never thought that she could speak to you in such an angry, hateful tone, and yet, here you are.

She has, indeed, made her intentions clear. When you came home, you found your clothes scattered on the pavement in front of the tower. She hasn’t waited for your explanations before deciding to throw all your belongings away. You were quick to follow them, you barely stepped into the building that she was here to drag you out of the building.

You have never seen your loved one in such a state. She isn’t even acknowledging your pleas for her to slow down, or at least to loosen her grip on your arm. But she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care anymore if you were hurt, or if you were stumbling on your feet — If she had to drag you out by the hair, she would do it without hesitating. 

The Natasha that was scared she could hurt you was long gone. She wasn’t the one that swore to protect you anymore, you’ve seen in her gaze that the promises she made no longer stand. She has a stern, harsh expression painted on her face, and it was your fault. She hadn’t hit you, not yet, but you could still feel how her nails are digging into your skin, leaving a mark that will stay for days. It is a reminder of what you’ve lost that day, not that you could forget.

A second later, you collide with concrete. She throws you on the ground, alongside your belongings, with all the strength she has — And she is a former russian spy, so she’s got plenty. The force of the gesture causes you to stumble over your own feet and fall, scraping your hands and knees in the process. You don’t even try to get up. Dejected, you remain on the ground, barely daring to turn around to see her one last time.

“Don’t you dare to come back, you are not welcome here anymore,” she said before walking away, and disappearing behind the doors of the tower. You wanted to say something but the words didn’t come out, nothing you could say felt right.

It is the last time you’ve seen her, and as pitiful as it is, you have long cherished this last contact with the redhead. No matter how violent and hateful it has been, it was still the last time you’ve touched the love of your life, and you missed it the moment she let go of your arm. Her, and her touch. Despite everything, despite the years, you still needed her presence by your side, and it doesn’t matter if your relationship has to be brutal, you are ready to accept anything if it means being close to her for a few more days.

The rest of the team stayed here until you left. Your eyes met theirs, pleading them to at least say something, but you didn’t get the help you were looking for, their hatred toward you matching Natasha’s. Clint, Steve and Sam, they are all people that you thought were your friends, except they didn’t hesitate a second before siding with the redhead.

Steve has been the first one to leave, almost running after the woman. Before they disappear in the elevator, you’ve caught his hand resting on her shoulder. You should be the one to touch her like that, the one to hold and comfort her, but this right has been taken from you, and maybe you deserve it. You broke the trust she put in you, one that she doesn’t grant easily.

You’ve always known it was a bad idea. In fact, since the moment he suggested that you should come to Natasha’s birthday, you’ve had a bad feeling about it. He thought that it would help you, knowing that you had been living in isolation since you’ve left the team, and a part of you believed him. The same part that never stopped hoping that things could go back to the way they were. 

Until today.

If there is something you’ve learned from that experience, it’s that things will never be as they were because it’s nothing more than a pipe dream. The past two years, you have continuously dreamed about that moment, when you would eventually see her again. You’ve even made up a whole apology speech, one that would erase all your mistakes, and if it’s not enough, then maybe you would have begged them until they forgive you — Promises be damned. In any case, it would have ended with a hug with Natasha, a happy reunion after all those years spent apart. 

Except that none of that happened, because reality isn’t fiction, and you don’t deserve a happy ending. To be fair, you could have never imagined that the reunion would go like this, that you wouldn’t even be able to exchange a word with them because they had no idea that you were here. You couldn’t have imagined that the barriers you have built over the last few years would crumble the moment you set foot in the tower that once was your home.

The tears were streaming down your face, hidden behind that ridiculous mascot costume Tony had forced you to wear. He assured you that it was all part of his plan, the one that’s supposed to make everything better, but honestly, you’ve never felt so ridiculous and pitiful than when you put on that costume that’s supposed to look like a cartoon version of Natasha. That is the genius idea Tony’s came up with a few weeks ago ; having you wear a suit so that you could attend Natasha’s birthday party without anyone knowing.

You thought that you were strong enough to face them, but it turned out that you weren’t. There is nothing that hurts more than realizing you are nothing more than a stranger in your own house. An intruder, that’s exactly what you are. You should enjoy the moment, but you can’t, your heart races, fearing they could guess you’re the one behind the costume.

You were watching them from the corner of the terrace where you found refuge after giving them a little show, and you noticed that all of them, without exception, had a bright smile on their faces. You should be glad that they overcame the difficulties of life, right?

Then why is the only thing you are feeling agonizing jealousy?

Because you were slowly realizing that things changed after you left them, and maybe it was for the best. That’s what you’ve heard them saying in an interview they held a few months after your departure — “Yes, the team has undergone some changements, and we believe it’s for the best” — and maybe they were right, because you don’t remember seeing them being so peaceful in the past. They never clearly said that you’ve been banned from the team, nor they talked publicly about the events that lead to your departure, but people weren’t stupid, they guessed that it was because of something you did.

All days are the same since.

You wake up early, but it’s not the sign of a healthy life, only of a light sleep that is disturbed by the slightest noise and glint of sunlight. The thought of a new day only makes you sigh, what’s the point when every day is the same? They are all filled with loneliness and misery, and you are not sure you have the strength to deal with that, so you don’t move an inch, waiting for the night to come again. 

Sometimes, you get out of the bed you’ve been rotting in, but it’s not before you are so hungry that your whole body is uncontrollably shaking. That's the only time you leave the darkness of your flat, when you go to that small shop at the end of the street to get something to eat. You would buy anything and everything here, but especially junk food that can be eaten quickly. Most of the time, it’s PastaBox or anything with chocolate,  the papers piling up in the kitchen as the days go by, but you’ve never had the heart to take down the overflowing bin.

Waking up, rotting in bed, eating a bit if you are really hungry, going back to rot in your bed, then crying until Morpheus comes to get you, that’s now what your days are.

It’s a strange situation. You have mourned people before, but never someone who’s still alive, never your whole life, never yourself. You are still alive. You know it because you are still breathing and your heart is beating, but it feels like you are not anymore. You don’t even want to cry anymore, you are just laying here, waiting for something to happen, anything. Maybe death. Maybe it’ll eventually come for you, and that moment will be the sweetest. It would be a relief, and not only for yourself.

You don’t want to think about the fact that it may not be. What would be the point in suffering if it’s not to get a threat at the end? The possibility that nothing will come after that life feels unfair, and scary. When you are not finding comfort in your death, you are looking for it by imagining a universe where your life with Natasha wouldn’t have ended that way, where none of that happened.

These are the thoughts that lull you to sleep every night, but the next day, when you wake up, the ache in your heart is back. It never seems to fade away, the pain being as strong as it was on the first day. If anything, it got worse. You are aware that every day that passes takes you further away from those ideals, dashing your hopes of getting your old life back. Your despair grew as you realized that all you were doing was pulling away from the love of your life, and there was nothing you could do to get her back. 

What is going to happen when you’re going to forget about how it feels being close to her?

What if you forget everything? Her voice, smile, and the smell of her clothes? 

The few times you are getting out of your apartment, you are walking with your head down, hiding behind the hood of your sweatshirt, and today isn’t an exception. The weather isn’t that cold, but the collar of your sweatshirt is still up to your chin, leaving only your eyes for the world to see. The ones that are fixed to your feet, avoiding to look around.

You used to do that to avoid paparazzi and insistent fans the days you were too tired to interact with the world, but you are now doing it to avoid problems. Your face and name have been all over the news after, and not for good reasons. People had no idea what had really happened, but their imaginations had no trouble imagining the worst and spreading rumors. It has been years, but the world still hasn't forgiven you for things you’ve never done.

In a few days, the way people see you changed drastically. You went from being one of the country’s greatest heroes to being canceled. The smiles turned into hateful looks, compliments into insults, and although no one has tried to hit you, you prefer to keep a low profile. The fall has been painful, but it isn’t surprising.

How could you expect strangers to believe you when even your oldest friends didn’t?

You have never been their favorite anyway, and you are perfectly aware of that. You are not a former spy, nor are you a genius or an enhanced human. You have nothing special, and the world knows your name only because of your teammates. It’s not a big surprise that they prefer them, and decided to side with the real Avengers.

But maybe they’re right. Maybe things are better that way, because you are not sure you deserve being loved. What you’ve tried to say to ‘tasha is true, you can’t remember what happened that night — At least, not the details that matters —, and that is the worst in your situation. The doubt creeping inside of you, and the guilt mixed with the frustration because you're as likely to be innocent as guilty.

Did you do it?

Did you cheat on her for real?

You are walking as fast as you can, only wanting to get home as quickly as possible, shaking your head in an attempt to get rid of those poisonous thoughts. You didn’t stay long at the party, barely half an hour has elapsed before you decided that you had enough. At least you’ve seen her blowing the candles, even if you left without saying a word to the woman. The thought crossed your mind for a second before you decided it was safer not to break the peace she had built up.

She deserves to be happy, even if it means that you are not a part of her life anymore. 

The only trace of your passage that you have left is a black box. You have hesitated to leave it on the pile of gifts, as she would know it was from you, but it didn’t feel right to keep for yourself the gift you were supposed to give her two years ago. It isn’t yours. You wished you could have stayed longer, just to see her reaction when she opens the box, just to see her smile one last time, to make her smile one last time before saying goodbye forever.

That night, you’ve been crying uncontrollably, and so did you the following days until you have no more tears to shed. Gladly, thanks to Fury, you have a bed to spend your days in. The man has been kind enough to pay for your rent until things get back to normal — That’s the promise he has made to you, that he will quickly find a solution. 

A new place for you to work at, in another country, far from everything you’ve known, where you weren’t hated by everyone: that’s the solution he came up with. “The furthest you are from the Avengers, the better it is. At least for a few months, we need things to calm down,” he told you that day, and you agreed. Not that you had a choice because if you had, maybe you would’ve said no. But there was no choice but to accept to leave everything you’ve ever known behind you — Your family, your friends, your memories. 

Did you for real?

That story is sticking to your skin, and the memories to your mind. Whenever you are going, people are glancing at you, and you are sure it’s because they know. Whenever you are going, all you can see is a glimpse of your past, ghosts that are haunting your present. The world will never forget, nor forgive your mistakes, and you understand them, because you don’t think you can either.

Every morning, when you wake up, it is the first thing you are thinking about. Every night, when you are about to sleep, it is the last one, until it becomes an obsession. Except it didn’t give you your memories back. The opposite has even happened, your mind confusing what you remember with what you've been told, trying to fill the gaps.

At one point, you were so desperate that you almost asked Fury, or Tony, if they didn’t have some technology that could help you to recover your memories. You’ve even thought about asking Wanda, but it was impossible to reach the woman, and maybe it’s for the best. You can’t deny that a part of you is scared of what you might find. You’ve once read that, sometimes, the brain keeps some memories away for a good reason — It is a response to trauma.

But for you, you were sure it was alcohol. You don’t remember how many drinks you had that night, but probably a lot if you can’t remember how the evening ended. The last thing you remember is talking with Astrid, one of your colleagues from SHIELD that invited you for a drink. The next time you remember is when you wake up in that motel. From the moment you opened your eyes, everything happened so fast.

You couldn’t take your eyes out of the pictures which were hung up all over the offices, you even kept some of those. But they are the worst. The thing you can see on those, the two of you in that stupid bed, her kissing your throat, and even more, it feels so foreign. Your brain refuses to accept that you are the one in the pictures. Yet, it's undeniable proof of what you've done that night. 

You are so lost that it hurts your brain. 

Sometimes, you wish that someone was here. Anyone that would take your hand, and guide you through this story. Most of the time, you imagine that it’s her, Natasha. That she is here, holding you in her arms, whispering in your ears that everything is going to be okay, exactly as she used to do. 

Then, you realize that she is not here, and everything crumbles again. 

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Part one. Part two. Part three. the scars in our hearts (bonus part).

That’s how you found yourself stumbling into your old bedroom, the one that now smells of dust, desperate for some comfort and familiarity. You didn’t even make it to the bed, falling miserably asleep on the carpet —; you didn’t have the strength to get up when you tripped over your own feet, too drunk to take more than a few clumsy steps.

⊱ ★ ⊰

There is only one person in the team who is willing to give you the space you asked for without agreeing to give up on you yet —; and it is Natasha.

You may not notice it, but the woman has always been here for you since you came back to live with them. It must be said that her gestures are minute, almost imperceptible, but they always manage to draw a slight smile on your lips without you realizing it —; she was perfectly aware that if you knew it was from her, you would start hating on those little things that made your daily life at the tower a little sweeter.

She is the one who always accidentally cooks more food than she needed, making sure there was always a portion waiting for you in the fridge. She is the one who makes sure that your favorite cutlery is always clean. She is the one who buys your favorite flowers to put them in the common room’s vase and never lets them fester. She is the only one who has taken the time to make you feel at home with a bunch of details that are so insignificant that you’ve barely noticed them.

But at least it helped soothe the guilt her heart carried, because these actions are proof that she was fulfilling the promises she had made to you a long time ago, in the secrecy of the night, under a starry sky, whispered words that has been immediately blown away by the wind —; “I’ll always be there for you,” she had said. “Promise?” you’ve asked, your eyes full of hope. “Promise,” she had replied before your lips touched, sealing the contract.

One she broke years ago, when she dragged you out of the tower without letting you a chance to explain yourself. The woman is perfectly aware that flowers and some meals won’t be enough to earn your forgiveness, but she still made it her mission to look after you from afar —; because if she doesn’t, who would? You don’t let anyone get close to you, and the others haven’t looked any further, giving up at the first sign of trouble. She doesn’t blame you for not trusting her, or the other members of the team, she just wishes that you would accept at least one of their helping hands. 

But you’ve rejected everyone. 

Even Wanda, with whom you seemed, at one time, to be getting on well which had given the redhead hope. Those hopes had been shattered the day you violently pushed the witch away without any clear explanation, and the woman blames herself for that, for not knowing what to do in order to help you —; because she should know, right? That’s her role, the promise she had made years ago.

If she can’t, if no one can, what will you become?

You may be able to fool everyone, including yourself, into thinking that you are fine, but you won’t get her to fall for your little tricks. She knows the truth. She can see it in your fake smiles, she can read it in your tired eyes. She knows you by heart, she hasn’t forgotten those years spent by your side, and she has become a master at spotting your bad habits and the sublet signs that accompany them. 

So, tonight, she couldn't have possibly missed how firm your grip has been on the bottles of alcohol, nor how quiet you've been the whole time. But it is only when she saw the door to your old bedroom ajar that she understood the extent of your pain. You were hitting rock bottom, you would have never set foot in this room full of memories otherwise. She knew this because she, too, avoided it like the plague, and hadn’t dared return in it since that day, not even to empty it. For five years, it had remained the same.

The woman is willing to give you the space you asked for as long as you are taking care of yourself, it is the silent promise she made, but it is obvious that you have failed to do so lately as she has seen you slowly falling back into your old habits. The ones she thought you had left behind, the ones she had helped you to overcome years ago. She is ready to accept that you could build a life without her, it is a cost worth paying if it’s the one to your happiness, but you haven’t built anything lately. Nor have you been happy, and she couldn’t bear anymore the sight of you destroying yourself, again.

The redhead is tired of the situation. She is annoyed that everyone is playing your games by pretending that everything is fine because it only encourages you down this dangerous path, one that may cost your life one day. She is angry with anyone who takes the easy way out, because it is obvious that it is easier to act as if all that history belonged to the past rather than acknowledge their mistakes.

At first, she had agreed to play along, but it was only because she thought that it was what you needed and that, when you were ready, you would talk to them. Except that it has been a bit more than two years, almost three, since they brought you back, and you still haven’t told a word about it. The woman didn’t know how long she would be able to put up with your silence on this story and your obvious discomfort.

But it seems that the sight of you asleep on the dusty carpet of the room you once shared was the last straw for the woman who decided to step in. You are probably going to hate her tomorrow, but she doesn’t care —; she is not even sure you could possibly hate her more than you already do. She would rather know that you are safe, even if it means losing you a little more so she decides to call your name multiple times.

It is the sound of her voice who wakes you up. It doesn’t matter how deeply asleep you were because you can’t ignore her when she practically screams out your name, and you are inevitably roused from your slumber. When you opened your eyes, a growl escaping your lips to signal your displeasure, all you could see was a blurred figure with red hair that could only belong to one person. One you could recognize anywhere.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked, a mixture of annoyance and concern tinged her voice, but you weren’t aware enough of your surroundings to notice it. Maybe if your hand hadn’t been so heavy on the alcohol, then you would have noticed the tone of her voice.

‘I am sleeping, can’t you see?’ you grumbled, but as soon as the words escaped your mouth, the frustration was replaced by a laugh —; this question was stupid, you realize. Isn’t she supposed to be a trained spy, and one of the best, too? Then why couldn’t she see what was right in front of her? Something that obvious? 

Maybe she doesn’t know either because your question is followed by silence. Her only answer has been to sigh and pinch the bridge of her nose. It was going to be a long night, she already knew it, but wasn’t sure she had the energy to deal with that.

‘Come here,’ you said when the woman didn’t react. Your words were accompanied by the gesture of grabbing her arm in order to pull her toward you, the woman losing her balance because of the surprise. 

Since she had found you, you had never asked for her presence. On the contrary, you had rejected and hated her. At best, you would tolerate her presence, but only when your job didn’t give you a choice, and so this sudden change in your behavior disconcerted her, especially the laugh that escaped your lips when she fell on top of you —; it is a sound that she has never thought she would hear again. So pure, so sincere.

‘Get up,’ she coldly says, not amused at all by your little games. If circumstances had been different, she probably would have found your attitude endearing and stayed a little longer in your arms. Except there was nothing healthy about this sudden closeness after months of hatred, so the woman immediately got up, inviting — ordering — you to do the same —; the sooner she puts you to bed, the sooner she can get back to hers.

Tonight, she had no patience. The woman was exhausted, and frustrated —; you weren’t the only one to suffer from the situation. She knows that your clinging state is just an illusion, the result of the alcohol you’ve ingested, and that the very next day you’re going to hate her again. If she wanted nothing more than to believe everything would be okay now, and to find comfort in your arms, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not when she knew she would lose it all again at sunrise. This scene is only a chimera, a reminder of what she had lost several years earlier as the result of her own actions.

If anything happens tonight, you would both regret it. Nothing can come from the actions of two tipsy and exhausted people. Except that your mind wasn’t clear enough to realize it, and all you could think about in that moment was how you were craving for Natasha’s attention. You wanted her to wrap her arms around you and whisper that everything will be fine now, because she is here. You wanted her to promise to never let you down, again. Even if it is a lie. Even if, one day, she will abandon you again —; because that’s what they all do despite the promises, isn’t it? At that moment, you didn’t care about the lies, you just wanted something to hold onto, just an ounce of comfort.

‘I caaaaaan’t,’ you whined, but you didn’t even try to do so. When you stretch out your arms towards the redhead, she gets the hint that you’re expecting her to help you, which she does. The woman knows how stubborn you can be so she grabs your hands and pulls you on your feet, sighing.

Except that you seem to find the idea of testing the limits of her kindness particularly amusing because you make no effort to pull yourself upright, or to stand on your feet —; or maybe you were just that wasted. You’re barely standing when you fall forward, leaving no choice to the woman who has to catch you before you hit the ground.

‘Got you,’ you whispered, a grin on your face, when you felt her arms around your waist.

The thought of dropping you crossed her mind, but all she did was to playfully roll her eyes. The woman should be annoyed by the situation —; right? But how could she when you are so adorable? It has been a long time since she last saw such a peaceful expression on your face. Your eyes were half closed, you looked as if you were about to fall asleep in her arms, and there was a faint smile on your lips. You seemed so content, nestled in her arms with your cheek pressed against her chest, that she hardly dared to move, fearing to break this well-deserved moment of peace. For a moment, it was as if nothing had happened, and the sorrow on your face had dissipated, giving way to a childlike insouciance —; a sight that made her heart melt.

You are the one who broke the silence first.

‘I’ve missed you..,’ you whispered. A confession so unexpected that the woman is not sure if she had understood your words. When her eyes looked down, searching for yours, you hadn’t moved, your eyes still closed. It was almost as if you hadn’t spoken, and that the words had been nothing more than a figment of her imagination. 

‘Me too,’ she softly replied and, maybe, if you had opened your eyes at that moment, you would have noticed the tears that clouded hers — but you couldn’t do that, because you don’t want her to see the tears that you are trying to hold back, right? The one that would just run down your cheeks the moment you open your eyes. 

‘Please, stay with me tonight,’ you asked —; no, you begged. You’ve lifted your head until your eyes finally meet hers, both were shining with the tears that threatened to fall —; you are the first one to give in.

The mere thought of Natasha leaving you was enough to shatter your last ramparts. You have just regained her embrace, you don’t want to be forced to leave her now, not after so many years of hoping to regain the comfort you thought you had lost forever. You have been too stubborn to admit that you needed help, and so you’ve spent years pushing everyone away, thinking that you didn’t deserve their affection. It has been so long that you can’t even remember the last time someone held you this way, with such delicacy and care.

It gave you hope. The one that, maybe, for at least one night, things could be the way they used to be —; just tonight, or even just a few hours. You just want that moment to last a little longer, you don’t want to spend another night alone in your bed, in your cold and austere bedroom with a depressing atmosphere. You want more than that, you want a reason to stay, a reason to try again, and to get up tomorrow —; you want Natasha back. You want your old life back.

Except that the woman won’t give in. It is not that she doesn’t want to, on the contrary, she shares the same wishes that you, but her mind is clear, and she knows that nothing good would come out of it —; you can’t get back to what you used to have. You can’t change the past, nor can you pretend it doesn’t exist.

‘I can’t..,’ she softly replied after a second of silence that marked her hesitation, ‘you know that baby, we both,’ she added, the nickname naturally escaping her lips when she noticed that more tears were threatening to fall from your eyes. 

She wants to say yes, you can read it in her eyes, hear it in her silences —; then why doesn’t she say it? Why does she keep pushing you away when you are eventually ready for her to be back? Isn’t what she has wanted when she spent all those months begging you to accept her help? It is, but she didn’t want it that way, she didn’t want to take advantage of a moment of weakness on your part. She wanted to earn your forgiveness, to show you that you could trust her again, and if she had to work every day until she dies to achieve that goal, then she would do it. 

‘Why not?’ you immediately asked back, ‘you are here, and so am I, and- and our bed is waiting for us,’ you started rambling. You couldn’t speak clearly, the words racing through your head as you tried to convince her, but you knew it was a losing battle. You were so desperate that your hands clung tightly to the fabric of her shirt, as if it could be enough to stop her from leaving. ‘Please,’ you begged once more when she didn’t react. At this point, your voice was nothing more than a broken whisper, ‘just for tonight, we could pre~’ 

‘Pretend that nothing has happened?’ she softly asked, finishing your sentence, and all you could do was nodding. ‘But you know we can’t do that baby,’ she said, hating the way you were looking at her with so much hope, as if you thought that one night in her arms could ease all your problems —; but it can’t. It won’t. 

As she talks, one of her hands tucks a lock of your hair behind your ears. The touch is so gentle that you can resist, and lean into her embrace. The feeling of her hand caressing your head leaves too soon for your liking. 

‘Sometimes, I wish that we could,’ you replied, ‘that I could either forget everything, or go back in time to make everything right,’ you confided in her, sharing your thoughts with someone for the first time.

The words have barely crossed the barrier of your lips that you crumble, because you realize that this wish will never come true. You can no longer hold back your tears, you can only hide your face in the hollow of her neck, hoping she won’t see those. Only, each of your sobs shakes your body so violently that anyone could understand your state in one glance. The woman doesn’t know what to do so she cautiously wraps her arms around you and cradles your body in an attempt to sooth your sobs —; it’s the least she can do.

‘You’ve done nothing wrong, love, nothing was your fault,’ she whispered, and you can hear that her voice is feverish —; she, too, is holding back tears. She can’t bear to see you like this. ‘I am sorry, so sorry,’ she added while she rocks you slowly. Those words weren’t for tonight, and how she had to refuse your proposal, but they were for everything that has happened since that day. Those excuses were for all the things she has done or said since but, most importantly, for all the things she didn’t have the courage to do and the ones she couldn’t. 

⊱ ★ ⊰

The following morning, you’re woken up by Jarvis, his voice echoing through the room, terribly loud and impossible to ignore. A grunt escapes your lips, you were hoping for a few more hours of sleep —; or best, for an eternal slumber. The night before, like the rest of the team, you went to bed late, and the quantities of alcohol ingested are definitely not helping with your condition because you were the victim of a terrible headache. Only, it is impossible for you to ignore Jarvis’ voice. He has been calling your name over and over again for several minutes now, trying to get the attention you are trying to not give him —; but even with your hands covering your ears, his voice would pierces your eardrums.

‘You are not answering me, miss y/n,’ he stated the obvious, ‘do you want me to warn the others that you are sick? My sensors indicate tha~’

‘Please, Jarvis, shut up,’ you mumble, still managing to be polite despite the rising frustration, and you really hope it will be enough for him to leave you alone —; but anyone who knows the AI knows that these hopes are in vain. 

Nonetheless, you have to admit that he is right about one thing: you are not feeling so good —; but who would after attending one of Stark’s parties? He always says that if your head is not sore and your throat is not burning the next day, then you haven’t enjoyed yourself enough. Surely you have enjoyed enough to last a lifetime, although you are not naive enough to swear to never touch a bottle again in your life. Yet, you’ve thought of it for an instant, the lingering nausea making you regret your actions because it gave you the unpleasant feeling that you might throw up at any time.

God, you were weak. So weak that everything was feeling too much right now, even the faint sunlight making its way into your room —; it makes you want to bury yourself alive to avoid all these sensations, and to die. Except you can’t because you have a mission that is scheduled for today and, if you don’t show up soon, they will come looking for you, which is the last thing you want. You have spent weeks preparing for that, you definitely can’t let them down now, especially not because you are just too stupid to know your limits.

You have abandoned them once, you won’t make the same mistake a second time. They won’t be so forgiving this time, no one forgives someone who does the same mistake twice —; no one gives a second chance to traitors. It has been several years since you came back, but you still feel like you are on probation and you need to prove to them that they can count on you. You can sense their hesitation to trust you, even though they insist that everything is fine —; pretending that everything is the way it used to be. It is their new favorite game, but you hate it. Y

et, you don’t have much choice but to play by their rules.

‘Are you sure? Becaus~’ 

‘I said, shut. the. fuck. UP!’ you yelled, not giving him to finish his sentence, already reaching the limits of your patience, ‘what’s so difficult to understand in those two words?’ you growled in frustration, and you can’t help but throw a pillow at the walls. The gesture is useless because it doesn’t even manage to ease the tension you feel, nor does it convince Jarvis that he needs to stop talking because he starts lecturing you about your actions. 

Actually, the only way you have found to shut him up was to get up and join the others for breakfast. Fortunately, only Tony and Steve were there. They are the ones you are going on mission with today, and that’s what they were talking about before you entered the room.  Even though you would rather stay alone, talking about missions is something you can do with little effort because it is easy. You need your brain, but you can turn off your emotions. You do not have to worry about saying the wrong thing or how to avoid an uncomfortable silence. It is familiar, and comforting. It has been a while since you've been sitting at this table talking about something else —; when you are not talking about work, you stay silent. It seems that you have forgotten how to interact with them during those years. 

As they go through the details of the mission one last time, you are playing with your breakfast, not interested in the oat flakes floating in your milk, nor in their voices that forms a dull hum in the background, their words not even reaching your ears —; because you are thinking, your eyebrows furrowed with worry. Except that your state isn’t caused by the reasons they think it is, neither the alcohol nor the mission are in your mind, only a certain spy with whom you shared a moment last night. One you would rather forget because the simple thought of the thing you have said, and done, is enough to fill you with rage and embarrassment.

‘Hi to the moon, here the earth,’ Tony said, snapping his fingers in front of your face to get your attention, ‘were you even listening to us?’ he sighed, but you don’t notice any annoyance in his voice. Only a sickening worry that you can read in his eyes, a feeling that he doesn’t share and doesn’t hide very well. You hate it, when they look at you that way, as if you could break at any moment, as if they needed to be careful —; but you can take it. You can take everything, and you definitely do not need their permanent protection. 

‘No, sorry, I was lost in my thoughts,’ you admitted, giving him a smile that I hoped to be convincing enough to reassure him.

‘Do not worry, everything is going to be fine, okay? We will be here to make sure of that,’ Steve intervened, trying to reassure you about what he thought was the cause of your worries, but his tone didn’t feel comforting to you. If anything, it made you grit your teeth and clench your hand harder around your spoon, increasing your irritation. You don’t really know why, but Steve has been the hardest to get along with since you have come back, maybe it is because of his seemingly false sympathy. 

‘Thank you,’ you managed to mumble, even though you don’t really mean it —; it was still better than the snide comment that made its way in your mind. You even made the effort to smile, one that anyone could see as fake, but not Steve, because he never really pays attention to the others.

The words burn on the tip of your tongue, and you have to bite it to not shout out to him what you are really thinking. You want nothing more than to tell him that you are as capable as anyone around this table. You have proven yourself over the last few months, succeeding in every mission they have given you, what more do you need to do for them to have faith in your abilities again? Reach for the moon? Because you are ready to do it if that’s the price to pay. You are desperate enough to do anything they would ask. 

In reality, you are not worried at all about the upcoming mission because that is not a possibility. You don’t fail, ever, and if you need to give pieces of yourself and mind in order to complete a mission, then you are ready to do it without flinching. 

No, your thoughts were occupied by something else —; or someone else. Something that was more difficult to manage because there is no guide to follow. This person is Natasha, and the cause of your worries is the moment you shared last night because you have no explanation for what happened —; you thought she hated you, and that you hated her. Aren’t you both supposed to despise each other for the pain you’ve caused? Then why do some of you still yearn for her presence? Why didn’t she reject you and, instead, decided to take care of your mess? This even wasn’t meant to be. The redhead is the last person that should have witnessed you in such a vulnerable state, and yet she is the one you have sought attention from, the only one you needed last night —; and you hate that. You hate how your feelings are still the same even after so many years.

That is exactly why, the second the woman that is haunting your thoughts stepped in the room, you left it, pretending that you needed to get ready for the mission. There is no way that the way you walked out of the room, leaving your untouched breakfast behind you, didn’t bring questions to their minds but you were long gone before any of them could say something.

˚ 　 ⋆ ⁺ ₊ ✦ ⁺ ₊ 　 ˚ 　. ˚ . 　 ☁ . 　　. 　 ˚ 　⁺ ⁺ ✦ ₊　 　 ☁ ˚　 . ⁺ ₊ ✧ ˚　 . 　  ˚　 ⁺ ₊

˚ . ⤳ MOODBOARD ⊱⋆⊰ MASTERLIST ⊱⋆⊰ TO SAY SOMETHING ✦ Part one. Part two. Part three. ⊱⋆⊰ the scars in our hearts.