the only exception

chapter one: i can't let go of what's in front of me

Time passed, and Yelena joined Bob on the couch— putting on a game show. Confetti dropped above the contestants' heads as a very elated woman celebrated her brand new Kia Sportage.

"I've got a new car!" She shouted. "I've got a new car! Holy—" the rest of the sentence was censored, the woman laughing on the screen.

Bob couldn't help but laugh, leaning into his palm. "I could never go on a game show."

"Me either, Bob," Yelena said, reaching for her mug of coffee. She winced after taking a sip of the cold, bitter liquid. "I should really heat this up."

"Yeah," he said, reaching for his weighted blanket and wrapping it around his shoulders.

He looked as if he was ready for a slumber party: wearing his navy blue robe, duck slippers and baggy pajamas (with a Muse band tee, of course— alternative rock is his thing). "Cold coffee is the absolute worst."

"I've never asked, but..." she looked into his navy colored eyes, her chocolate brown ones softening. "Do you like coffee?"

"Uh," he said, pressing his knuckles against his chin. He paused, thinking, and thinking. "I... I've never... really drank coffee. I've heard that it makes you... jittery. I just drink... tea. I mean, I love Earl Grey tea, it's great. Ava got me hooked on that a few months ago..."

"Never know unless you try it, Bob," she said, going to heat her dark roasted coffee. "Want a sip of mine?"

"Sure," he said, wide-eyed, looking like a curious little hamster.

"Alright, coming right up," she quipped, hitting a few buttons and watching as the Avengers ceramic mug spun around in the microwave.

The microwave beeped and she pulled out the steaming cup of coffee, taking a long sip. "Burning hot," she said with a grin, "just the way I like it."

"So that's how you drink your coffee? Scalding?"

She laughed. "I had my first cup of coffee when I was two." She took another sip, sitting on the leather couch and kicking up her boots on the table.

"You shouldn't do that with your boots. It's..." he looked towards her. "Never mind."

"Judging me, Bob?" she joked, giving him a playful push.

"Uh, no. Just— it's... it's a little..." he pressed his lips together. "... unhygienic? I don't know. Heh. I—- do whatever is... best for you?" he said, as if it was a question. He tightened up the robe, leaning his head back.

Yelena laughed, kicking her boots down from the coffee table. "Alright, alright. All you had to do was ask."

"I'm not good at asking for what I want, I'm a—"

"People pleaser?" She looked towards him.

"... I... I would say so, yeah..."

"You think too much about what other people need. How... they'll react. Sooner or later, you have to let it go at some point, right, Bob?"

"I... guess. I just can't, I feel like— every little thing can lead to... someone getting mad at me." He flinched when he thought of the sound of his father approaching him in the kitchen, the way he pointed and yelled at him at dinner. The way he would space out, the words from his father becoming blurry the longer the conversation went on. And he couldn't help but find comfort in that— the not saying anything—- being afraid, and knowing that if he did, there would be consequences. He didn't have a voice growing up. And he was trying to find it, but for some reason, it was taking a lot longer than he wanted to get there.

"Hey," Yelena assured him. "Bob, it takes time. To... figure life out. Really. You need to give yourself some... grace." She patted his back, looking into his eyes. "We all do."