Invisible String (Elizabeth Olsen x Fem Reader)

Time

Y/N POV

The words come tumbling out before I can form them into coherent thoughts, and I'm well aware that I probably look like a mess from the plane ride, but I don't care. There's too much on the line. "Hey. Can I come in?"

Lizzie just stares at me for a few seconds before letting out a sigh and stepping to the side, and I have to refrain from dropping to my knees right then and there and thank her for not slamming the door in my face. Because I totally would have deserved that and wouldn't have blamed her for it.

And it's not the first time that this thought crosses my mind, but I definitely don't deserve her. Not now, and probably not ever.

Sniffling, I step past her and into the rental, wiping at the underside of my eyes as I try to get myself back under control. If I'm going to do this right, I can't be a blubbering mess. I hear Lizzie quietly shut the door behind me before she silently walks into the kitchen. I follow after her, depositing my bag somewhere down along the way, resisting the urge to curl in on myself as I lean against the kitchen's door frame.

"What are you doing here, Y/N?"

Her tone isn't as angry as it was when we spoke earlier, it's the exact opposite. Now she just sounds tired, like the last thing she wants to do is have a conversation with me, and I'll admit that hurts, but then again it's my fault we're here. "I needed to fix this. I couldn't do that from LA."

She doesn't respond right away, and I don't push the conversation further. I'm well aware that I'm on thin ice, and the last thing I want to do is make her even more angry with me. Instead I watch as she moves around the kitchen before taking a seat at the kitchen table, a mug of steaming hot tea in her hands. I stay where I am, hating that there's so much distance between us, but if this is what she wants, I'll give it to her.

"Why didn't you just tell me?"

I hate that she sounds so small, and that she's refusing to even look at me, finding her tea much more interesting. I hate that I did this and that I have no idea how to fix it. I hate that I don't know how to tell her why I didn't trust her enough to tell her about the meeting, even though I know exactly why I didn't do it.

I hate that I'm just standing there, at a loss for words as I try and wrack my brain for something- anything- to say that won't cause this rift between us to expand.

"I still have trouble, sometimes. Separating this relationship with you and what I had with Sawyer in my mind. My brain likes to revert back to when I had to keep secrets and lie in order to avoid a fight. And it's not a good enough excuse, I know that, but I didn't mean to hurt you, Lizzie. I never wanted that. I was just so scared to tell you because I wanted to avoid the very thing I created, and...I'm sorry."

I trail off, not really sure what else to say. I'd spent the whole plane ride over here coming up with this grand speech about how fucked up I am in the head, and that it fed into my insecurities and I made a mistake, but it all just sounds like complete garbage now. Nothing I say, or possibly even do, is going to make up for what I've done.

The kitchen falls silent again, and with every second that goes ticking by I feel like she's slipping farther and farther away. It's like I'm watching a bad movie play out right in front of me, and I can't do a damn thing about it.

"I'm sorry I hung up on you."

I feel myself shrug in an attempt to appear nonchalant and almost grimace. It's an old defensive tactic I developed, trying to seem like something isn't as big of a deal as it is, in the hopes that I can spare myself from confrontation. I don't want to revert back to that. "It's okay. I don't blame you for doing it."