I ha(d)ve you - Pietro Maximoff

297 9 5
                                    

word count: 376

warnings: pain

....

It's been a while since I've seen a starry sky like this. Not a sound is coming from anywhere near. No cars driving, no sirens, no loud music. Just the quiet and constant chirping from a couple of insects in the grass.

I look at him. He's grinning. There's a flower in his hand—a daisy. How small and fragile it seems in his bruised hands. They're bandaged. I spent an hour taking care of him when he came home from the last fight.

"That was the last time I did that," he said, "I'm not going to risk it anymore."

His skin was pale, his eyes red and purple underneath. He hadn't slept properly in weeks. I took care of his wounds after he washed up, then stuck him in comfortable sweats. He groaned quietly as I put him under the covers.

And yet he put in all the effort to turn towards me and talk to me. As long as I needed.

"I promise," he said, "from now on, I'm not fighting anymore. The world has its new Avengers. They don't need me."

His bandaged hand makes its way to my cheek: "I'm here for you now. Just you."

It's almost as if his words melt the icy blue in his eyes. And he's not trembling. He's not uncertain of what he's promising.

"Your heart is what makes me stay, Princessa. You. And the love I feel for you is enough to make me stop everything for you."

A teardrop makes its way past my lashes and onto my cheek, his thumb gently grazing over it.

The soft tissue of his lips grazed my skin when he kissed me. I closed my eyes. He didn't let go. My arms slid around his torso, pulling him in closer.

Blue ice stared at me, grey wind embracing it in the dark room.

"Piet..." I finally say.

More and more tears follow. They turn into rain. Pattering against the black umbrellas huddled together.

About 20 people stand there, in silence. Wanda didn't come. She went back to Sokovia. My shoes are dirty.

There's mud all around the six-foot-deep hole. The grass didn't grow this year. It's beige. Dehydrated.

After a while, they all leave. Their footprints are deleted by the new pattern of raindrops. It sounds like November.

"Oh, Piet..." I whisper.

...

[I've decided I might update here again from time to time]

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