warnings: mentions of self harm
age: 16
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Y/N's POV
It's summertime. Everyone's favorite time of year, right?
Not mine.
Summer's supposed to be filled with joy. People going on vacation, spending time with their families, eating endless amounts of ice cream or going on picnics. It's not supposed to be spent worrying about having to wear short-sleeved clothing in front of everyone.
But here I am, standing in front of my mirror, crying my eyes out whilst wearing my favorite t-shirt.
Yes, my scars are fully healed and so-called 'acceptable' to wear out, but what will people think?
How do I answer the question of 'what the fuck happened to you?'
How do I answer a little kid who's curious and too innocent to know of such things?
"Hey, love, what's-" my mom starts as she enters my room but quickly gets cut off by the sight of me. "Oh, Y/N/N. Why are you crying, honey? What's wrong?"
My words seem to fail me at answering, so I immediately run up to her and hug her tight, placing my head on her chest in the hopes to just get any sort of comfort I can.
"Okay, okay. I've got you," she says in a hushed tone. "Come on, let's lay down and I'll hold you."
She tries leading me to my bed but my legs don't comply as I fall to the floor in utter exhaustion, still being held tightly in my mama's embrace.
"Alright, sweetheart. You're okay, it's all gonna be okay."
NATASHA's POV
The next forty minutes or so are spent with my daughter sobbing in my arms. I've managed to reposition us on the floor so that I'm holding her like a baby, her head still tucked into my chest.
I have no clue where this has all come from. I just walked in and she was standing in front of her mirror, crying.
Though come to think of it, this is the first time I've seen her in a t-shirt since before she started cutting. She hasn't done it for a while; not since the big accident she had when she went too deep and we had to go to hospital to get them stitched.
That was almost a year ago now, she still gets the occasional urge but she always comes to me so I can help her through it.
Of course after she first got them sutured, I was checking every day to make sure they weren't infected and to help her clean them, but I haven't seen the scars since then.
"Baby, do you feel like you're gonna do it again? Is that what it is?" I ask now that she's calmed down a little.
Y/N shakes her head as a response and stays nuzzled into my neck.
"The- the scars," she manages to get out between her quiet cries.
Suddenly it all makes sense. It'll be the first time she's ever worn her scars out.
I hate the stigma around self-harm scars. If they're healed, why shouldn't someone be allowed to wear them out? Are people who hurt themselves expected to just boil in the heat? It's not fair.
"Y/N, sweetheart, listen and listen well. Your scars are something that no one gets to have an opinion on except you, okay? Not me, not aunt Yelena, not some random kid on the other side of the street. You and you only. Scars are nothing to be ashamed of. It just shows people how strong you are."
"But what do I say if someone asks?" she questions in a raspy voice.
"You tell them whatever you're comfortable with. If that means nothing, then you tell them nothing. It's okay to not tell anyone. But don't let yourself suffer in the heat just because you're worried what people will say. If someone bothers you then come get me. I'll kick their ass," I say with a slight chuckle to the ending - she does too.
"Thank you, mama. I love you."
"I love you too, detka."
-
Y/N took my advice and has ignored every confused look she's gotten whilst we've been on our walk. We're meeting with the rest of the team to sit on a field by the river and catch up with everyone. It's been a while since we've seen them all and unless Wanda's told them, no one knows about the incident. The only reason Wanda knows is because she was staying with Y/N that night when I was out with some friends.
"Hey, guys!" the other redhead on the team is quick to greet us.
"Hi, Wands," I say back and accept her embrace before going to say hi to all the others.
Y/N's POV
After my aunt Wanda lets go of my mom, she walks over to me and gives me a bone-crushing hug.
"Uh, Wanda, I need to breathe," I tell her and she loosens her grip slightly. "Thank you," I laugh.
"How are you doing, my love?" she asks as she pulls away and places her hands on my shoulders.
She hasn't seen me since the night of the accident so she doesn't know how I've been.
"I'm okay. I'm doing better. Therapy has helped and so has mom."
"That's good, honey. I'm proud of you." I notice her gaze drop to my arm and her expression falling slightly.
"Give here," she tells me and takes my arm in her hand before placing a gentle kiss to the biggest scar.
After our little soft moment, I walk over to my mom who's currently sat down with Tony and Steve. Morgan's on Tony's lap too and I immediately see her stare at my arm.
"What's that?" she blurts out as I place myself on mom's lap, mirroring the small child.
Everyone's attention turns to Morgan pointing at my arm and there's multiple gasps being heard.
"Come on, guys, seriously? We're all adults here," mom scolds.
"I'm not!" the youngest chimes in.
"Well I know you're not, missy," mama tells her in a jokey voice and boops her nose cutely.
"What happened, Y/N?!" Steve asks.
I turn my head to look at my mom for reassurance and she nods.
"I don't wanna talk about it," I tell everyone.
They don't seem too amused with my answer but they accept it, all going back to their previous conversations.
"I'm proud of you, Y/N," my mama whispers to me.
She was right. You do not ever have to explain yourself when it comes to this.