Feels Like Coming Home | +arrowsandradiation

inheritorofmemories:
“It’s not your choice,” she tells him, and it’s harder than it should be to feign coldness. He’s so close, so unbearably close, and she could just reach out for him if she chose to. That’s how simple it would be.
She can’t though. They can’t open that can of worms again, no matter how like home he feels.
“I don’t need you here. I don’t need anyone else. Don’t you see that needing me makes you vulnerable? What you need has the power to hurt you.”
She looks down, letting herself collapse back on to the sofa. “Running was a child’s dream,“ she says, expressionless.
Her words hurt.
They don’t just hurt a little. They hurt like hell, like acid running through his veins instead of blood, burning every little bit of hope inside of him away.
I don’t need you here.

He’d never thought he could feel this kind of hurt at all, but here he stood, staring at the floor in an attempt to recollect his thoughts, his mind. To say something. To say anything that could help.
He doesn’t know anything. His mind is blank, the words had torn every comment and every reply away that he could have spoken to her. His heart hurts, his eyes sting and his gaze is plastered to the floor as his view gets blurry, the fast blinking only causing the tears to fall on the floor. He watches them falling, hitting the dirty floor without a sound.
He stuffs his hands into his pockets, shoulders sinking a little.
He doesn’t know what to say, what to do to make her stay… With him.
"I need you…”
His voice is quiet, shaky, but he doesn’t care. He can’t care right now.

Natasha knows she’s gone too far - but she has to, she tells herself. She has to burn him so badly that he can never come back to her because she will always want him too.

The truth, the dirty little secret of it all, is that Natasha has needed Clint more than he needs her since the day they met.

He keeps her level, reminds her why she’s doing this. He’s the only person she would have given up running for and the only person who is keeping her here. If he could understand even half of what’s going through her exhausted mind, he’d be shocked to find how much of her he occupies.

Clint is home - and Natasha can’t afford to come back.

“Learn not to,” she tells him, thankful for once for the hair that’s grown long, allowing her to hide her own tears from him. She’s not asking for his compassion, his pity. She’s asked too much of him already.

arrowsandradiation reblogged this from inheritorofmemories and added:
When she’s burying her face in his shoulder, he thinks things are going to be okay, before he blinks, looking at her as...
inheritorofmemories reblogged this from arrowsandradiation and added:
Natasha steps forward, burying her face in his shoulder for just a moment before taking herself across the room. She...
carmy-w liked this