You'd never confess to Yelena that, despite everything, a part of you still yearned to return home and see your mother and father. Yelena couldn't fully grasp why you held onto the hope that things would change. Yet, this time, a flicker of hope burned within you, fueled by the belief that maybe, just maybe, they would finally look at you and appreciate the person you'd become. You had even let your hair grow long, inspired by your mother's comment about Janice's daughter.
The daydreams played out in your mind—walking through the door, your mother gasping, spinning you around, and enveloping you in a long, affectionate hug. In this imagined scenario, she would shower you with compliments, expressing how pretty you were and how much she loved you. A sigh escaped your lips as you emerged from your reverie, and a your mood dropped. Deep down, doubts surfaced, recognizing the slim chance of your mother showing any form of love. Glancing at the carefully wrapped presents in your bag, your heart quickened. Despite reading Natasha and Wanda's notes countless times, you couldn't resist running your fingers over each card, absorbing the words they had written.
Closing your eyes tightly, you could almost transport yourself back to the comforting embrace of Natasha and Wanda, curled up between them. It had taken a while to get use to their closeness. You knew Natasha was naturally tactile with her family, you had witnessed her attempting to hug Yelena several times. At home, Natasha and Wanda were always touching or sharing hugs, and it never failed to warm your heart. Yelena, however, wasn't the most enthusiastic participant in Natasha's hugging endeavors now that you were all older. It typically devolved into a playful wrestling match. It never failed to make you burst out laughing when Natasha would end up on top—by on top, it was Natasha sitting on Yelena's back while Yelena screeched in rage.
A smile played on your lips as the memory flittered through your mind while you leaned your head against the window. The gentle rocking of the bus soothed your conflicting emotions, and you alternated between sleeping and reading before the bus finally arrived at the station.
As you got off, you looked around for your parents but couldn't see them anywhere.
Disappointment settled in, and the urge to get back on the bus was strong, but you swallowed the lump in your throat as you dragged your bag towards your parents' apartment.
It felt like hours before you finally arrived, although it couldn't have been more than 40 minutes. You stopped in front of the building you grew up in, it loomed in front of you, and it seemed as no time have passed since you left. But even if you had grown up there, it had never really felt like a home. You had finally managed to escape, but here you were again. All the emotions rushed back as you felt like that little girl again who was never seen, who desperately wanted her mother to love her—the little girl who wondered if she would ever be enough.
Allowing the emotions to settle in, you gave the young girl inside you space to hurt. Just for a moment, when everything was quiet, you let her grieve for everything she so desperately wanted and never got—well, not until Natasha and Wanda. Thinking of them helped, as the little girl within you squirmed with warmth and happiness.
With a deep breath, you gathered the strength to pull the door open while tucking the little girl away in a safe place. The smell of dirt and urine hit you as you walked up the stairs toward the floor your parents lived on. Your bag made a loud thud as you dropped it in front of the door, the sound echoing up the stairs, and you winced as you rang the doorbell.
A forced smile painted your face as your father opened the door. His usual indifferent stare was there as he looked at you, and it almost made you shrink under his stare.
"It's about time you showed up, what took you so long?" He grunted as he pushed the door open for you to enter.
His words shouldn't hurt you anymore, he had said worse. But you couldn't help but feel the sting.
"Sorry, the bus was delayed, and then I had to walk from the bus station."
"Still coming with excuses, I see. Not much has changed," he said as he walked away from you, leaving you standing in the hallway. You couldn't help but frown at his back as you removed your shoes.
"Your mother is at work, I will be out of town, so make sure she has a good Christmas, okay?" He called from the bedroom, and you stopped in your tracks, wondering what the hell he meant.
"You're leaving?" You blurted out in disbelief.
"Some of us have obligations, girl. Do you think money grows on trees? Don't forget who is paying for your college."
You had never wanted anything more than to throw in his face that you needed nothing from him, that you could pay for it all by yourself. But you knew this was the leverage your father had over you.
He didn't even offer a goodbye as he left, and you stood there, looking at the door in confusion, wondering what just happened.
After a while, as the shock passed, you dragged your bag over to your old room. You weren't really shocked to see it remodeled into an office, but hurt bled through your veins as your poster-covered walls and dragons were all gone, replaced with freshly painted walls and modern furniture.
The pull of the small girl inside yearning to mourn your lost childhood was undeniable. However, you had allowed her too much freedom lately, especially since welcoming Natasha and Wanda into your life. It was time to suppress the desire to let her roam freely. Closing that metaphorical door, you decided to wait in the living room.
The hour must have been late when your mother finally stumbled home. You felt disoriented, awakened from sleep by the jingling of keys in the lock. Gradually, you could make out your mother moving sluggishly through the room.
You didn't expect a warm welcome, but a small part of you wished for an embrace. It's what mothers were supposed to do with their children, according to the Christmas movies you'd never admit to Yelena that you watched.
Yet, no hug came, no sign of joy at your presence. It wasn't entirely unexpected. Affection had never been a part of your relationship with your mother. She sneered with displeasure when you informed her that your father had left for work and wouldn't be home for Christmas.
Things didn't improve as you desperately tried to please her—cleaning, buying groceries and driving her to work. Still, no smiles, no inquiries about your life or interest in your presence. The silence spoke volumes, and the void of warmth felt like a cavernous hole in your chest.
Christmas evening was spent at your uncle's house, where you were as usual invisible amidst the laughter and hugs of relatives. An awkward hug from your uncle brought a fleeting sense of inclusion, even if it was half-hearted. During dinner, he attempted to ask about your studies, but every time you spoke, someone else spoke over you. Eventually, you gave up in trying to be seen or heard, spending the meal pushing your food around the plate.
The gift exchange heightened the discomfort, watching them joyfully swap presents while you offered smiles whenever someone celebrated their gifts. However, as the evening drew to a close, you found yourself without a single gift. Your mother remained indifferent, and your uncle awkwardly offered you a box of chocolates he had received from his company, a gesture you bashfully accepted. But it didn't remain in your possession for long before your mother snatched it away, sneering that you needed to think of your figure. Despite attempting not to be affected by her hurtful words and the laughter that echoed from your cousins, you spent the night curled up in an armchair, observing your mother's increasing inebriation. The cringe-worthy moment came when she nearly stumbled into the Christmas tree.
Eventually, your uncle reached his limit and insisted you take your mother home. You struggled to convince her to leave as she swatted you away. You despised dealing with her when she was drunk; it always left your stomach twisted with anxiety, and her words were never kind. Yet, there was nothing she could say that would surprise you anymore; you had heard it all—until this night.
"Let me go!" She screeched as you tried to assist her up from the sidewalk, a dark part of you was tempted to leave her there.
"Mom, please let me help you," you sighed tiredly while crouching in front of her and attempting to get a firm grip beneath her arms.
"Why do you keep coming back? You always come back," she grumbled.
"Who else will help you if not me?" you mumbled in annoyance as you managed to lift her up with a grunt.
"For 19 years, you've been a thorn in my side, stealing anything good from me like the bloodsucking parasite you are," she sneered, recoiling from your hands and nearly ending up face down on the curb.
"Mom," you gasped while reaching for her and huffed when you managed to catch her before she fell.
"I would finally have a Christmas with your father without you. But here we are, he's gone and I got you." She looked at you with such disgust that you recoiled before grasping her arm again when she wobbled.
Sweating, you carefully guided her into the car, attempting to ignore her hurtful words.
"I heard a rumor about Yelena's sister, that tall redhead, you know," your mother slurred, evidently done with spewing her hate over you, now moving on to her next subject. You frowned when she mentioned Natasha, fearing were this was going.
"You mean Natasha?"
"Mmm, yes, Natasha, very unpleasant girl. Always sticking her nose where it doesn't belong." Your mother grunted and hiccuped, her head audibly thudding against the car window.
You wondered what she meant but felt no inclination to entertain your mother's drunken ramblings. Natasha was everything your mother wasn't. She was kind and brave, and you loved her. Loved her? You didn't know where that sentiment came from, but going by what you had seen in movies and read in books, it must be what you felt for Natasha.
"She's a deviant," your mother continued and you were rudely brought back from your musing, your frowned when you glanced at your mother, "do you understand what I'm talking about, Y/N? She lays with women. It's not natural... Made me sick hearing it, I'll tell you."
You avoided meeting your mother's gaze again while your heart was racing as you tried to gather up courage to stand up to her. But even if Natasha wasn't there to hear your mothers hurtful words. You still felt the growing need to defend her.
"I'm an adult, and I get to choose my own friends. You can't tell me who I can or can't have in my life," you said quietly, wishing your voice carried more conviction, but fear of your mother's reaction held you back.
"Did you not hear what I said?" she grunted before continuing. "She's one of those lesbians."
"I heard you perfectly the first time, mother... But there is nothing wrong with her and for your information her wife is lovely," You answered as you clenched the steering wheel, you cast her a glance before continuing quickly, "I don't know if her being with a woman makes her a lesbian, but it don't matter to me. You can't dictate who I'm spending time with."
Your heart pounded against your chest and your hands hurt from how hard you were grasping the steering-wheel.
"So you are one of them too, I knew it from the moment you entered this world that you would bring me nothing but problem. I want you out of my home and out of my life once and for all," your mother slurred in a rant as you pulled up to the curb, and you looked at her, wide-eyed, wondering if she was serious.
You followed her, stumbling, toward the building and up the stairs to the apartment in disbelief. You frowned at her as you attempted to help her several times as she stumbled. Your disbelief was turning in to anger as she recoiled from your hands while cursing. It felt like your chest was on fire as the rage was building up. How dare she.
"Don't touch me," She growled as she stumbled through the door and toward her bedroom before turning around with a sneer, "Get your things and get out."
"Mom, you can't be serious," you asked in anger, your voice was thick witch emotions.
"Get the hell out now, or I will call the police," she yelled, slamming her door.
Your feet stayed planted, eyes darting from her door to the window, watching the snow fall slowly. For the first time you hated your mother, it felt like an inferno as it spread through your veins. You wanted to bang on her door and scream at her. Not only for how she have treated you tonight. No for every single hurtful thing she had said to you through your life and for all the pain she had caused you. But instead you did nothing but stare at the door wishing for the world to burn down around her, then maybe she would feel the same pain you felt.
After a couple of calming breaths you went to your old room and tossed your things inside the bag before slamming the front door as you left. You had never dared to slam the door before, and it felt so good. Finally you were able to slam the door on her and it felt like the closure you had always wanted. You could do this, you would find a way to survive without them.
As you finally made it outside of the building you felt drained, it felt like you were crashing, as if you your cup was slowly overflowing. You gasped for air as your chest squeezed painfully, the anger made your hands shake and the pain from her words made your eyes tear up. It hurt, everything hurt and the panic made you pant as you slide down the wall. It took a while to regain control, and eventually, the agony transformed into numbness, mirroring the chill that seeped into your clothes, causing involuntary shivers.
The cold reality settled in, and you pushed yourself off the ground, burying the hurt deep within. This was a familiar pain, one you had endured before. Your father had always been the one to mend what your mother shattered—a flawed savior, but a lesser evil. The resentment your mother harbored toward you was no secret, expressed in countless instances that could fill a catalog of painful memories.
One example was when she locked you in the cupboard beneath the sink, citing exhaustion from your attempts at hugging her. Another, at the age of eight, involved her being so drunk that you feared for her life. Sobbing by her side, you had tried desperately to wake her, only to receive a harsh push when she regained consciousness. Perhaps she realized then that her words could inflict deeper wounds than physical pain when you crawled back trying to hug her. She despised your existence, expressing how your father always wanted a child, but she never did. With your father gone most of the time since your birth, claiming to work more to save up for your intuition, her resentment festered. Despite her rejection and efforts to make you feel worthless, you kept coming back.
Now, having tasted the sweetness of belonging and the freedom to choose your sanctuary, all you yearned for was to return to New York. Casting a final glance at the building that never felt like home, you were ready to leave it all behind. No more hurtful words, no more groveling for affection. This time, you turned your back on a building that held nothing but painful memories. Instead of closing the door on the hurt little girl within, you closed the door on the source of all that pain.
Stumbling through the snow towards the station, the distance lightened your burden, but the ache persisted. Upon entering, you made your way to the counter. Your heart sank at the realization that the next bus wouldn't depart until 4:30 am, leaving you with a three-and-a-half-hour wait. Thankfully, the station offered warmth, and you curled up on a bench, ready to catch some rest when your head bumped into something solid.
In the midst of your turmoil, you had forgotten about the presents from Natasha, Wanda, and Yelena. Carefully unwrapping Yelena's gift, you emitted a sound between a sob and a laugh as you revealed a hoodie and sweatpants adorned with small dragons. The next gift, a dress you had admired in the store but deemed too expensive, elicited a tender caress of the soft fabric. Safely tucking them into your bag, you retrieved one of Natasha's gifts.
Merry Christmas Y/N!
May this bring you joy on a cloudy day.
Love
Natasha and Wanda
Tracing the letters with your finger, you carefully unwrapped the gift and you could feel the tension in your eyes as you tried to keep your tears at bay. A gasp escaped you as you laid eyes on a box of VR glasses. You had experienced them once in the store with Natasha, and the sheer joy you felt had led to an animated recounting of the adventure to Wanda when you returned home, prompting hearty laughter from the older woman.
A chuckle bubbled up at the memory, and you quickly glanced around, relieved to find the area nearly empty. With a grin, you reached for the next gift.
Merry Christmas Darling!
I saw this and thought of you.
Love
Wanda
Unveiling the next gift, you discovered a stunning green coat. The color was beautiful, and as you lifted it, the soft material caressed your fingers. Examining it closely, you marveled at the beautiful teal green hue, falling in love with every aspect of the garment.
Merry Christmas My Little Duckling!
For when ever you feel lonely, know you never truly are.
Love
Natasha
Within the confines of the small box, you discovered a silver locket adorned with a delicate swan, and an instant affection for it blossomed within you. Tracing the intricate lines with your fingertips, you held it gently in your palm. A furrow formed on your brow as you turned it around, noticing the possibility of it being opened. Carefully, you managed to unlock it, revealing a picture of Wanda and Natasha smiling inside. The pain that had gripped you earlier lessened as you gazed at their joyful faces and the beautiful gifts they had bestowed upon you.
Returning to New York felt like a relief, and instead of heading to the dorm, you found yourself at Natasha and Wanda's house. Gratitude for the gifts mingled with a selfish desire for the warmth and care your mother had denied you.
Ringing the bell, your heart raced with excitement. You needed this, you wanted to forget everything that happened, if only for a while.
The door swung open, revealing Natasha in black wide-legged linen pants and a loose white buttoned shirt, her hair elegantly up in a bun. Her eyes sparkled as they met yours, and you smiled shyly, feeling a surge of warmth as she greeted you.
"Little ducky, back so soon," Natasha said warmly, though her smile dimmed as she took in your appearance. "Don't get me wrong, I'm more than pleased to see you. But weren't you supposed to be with your family for another 4 days?"
As she ushered you inside, you quickly removed your beanie and scarf. "Yeah, well, change of plans," you explained with a small smile, unbuttoning your jacket. "Is it okay if I stay here for a few days?"
"Of course, come on in," Natasha replied, holding out her hand. You gladly reached for it, savoring the warmth of her smooth skin.
"We're preparing for dinner tonight. Yelena is not here though, she's over at Dave's for a few days to meet his family," Natasha shared as she led you towards the kitchen.
You remembered Yelena's nerves about meeting Dave's family and made a mental note to check in on her later.
"There will be some friends of ours here tonight, but I would love it if you joined us," Natasha said with a wink, motioning for you to sit at the kitchen bar while she worked.
"Are you sure you want me there?" you asked, hesitant not to intrude.
"It's more a question if you would find it fun hanging out with a couple of fossils for the evening," Natasha chuckled, making air quotes around the word "fossils" as Yelena often called them.
You couldn't help but laugh as Natasha leaned against the counter, wiggling her eyebrows.
"You're not a fossil," you smiled bashfully, looking down at your hands.
"Charmer," Natasha smirked, sending you sly wink when you looked up at her. As you tried to control your breathing, you watched Natasha move around the kitchen. Her hair in a bun was a new sight, and you appreciated the view of her slender neck as she worked.
"So, will you tell me why you aren't home with your parents?" Natasha asked gently, and you contemplated how much to reveal.
"We had an argument, so I left," you confessed, nervously toying with the edge of the glass in front of you.
"Little duckling, look at me." You fidgeted in your seat, torn between complying with Natasha's request and fearing that she would discern the unspoken truths.
Warm arms enveloped you, and the inner child within you embraced the unexpected affection. You clung to Natasha, fearing she might withdraw, but she maintained a reassuring hold, comforting you with gentle shushes.
"Mom kicked me out," you whispered against her shoulder, the truth escaping your lips. You held onto Natasha tightly, seeking solace in the safety of her embrace.
"She did what?" Natasha sneered as she looked down at you, but her frown turned into concern as you let out a broken sob, "hey.. shh.. It's okay sweetie. I got you." Natasha hushed you as she hugged you tightly caressing your head.
"I-I'm sorry," you sobbed.
"Why in the world are you apologizing, sweetheart?" Natasha asked you gently, and you clung to her.
"B-Because I'm ruining your shirt" you hiccuped against her shirt as you gasped for breath.
"You're not.. Come here," Natasha said gently as she pulled you off the chair and steered you towards the living room.
On the couch, she maintained her embrace, not loosening her hold. You relaxed against her as she molded herself around you, and you curled up in her arms.
"I want you to hold me forever," you whispered, chastising the little girl within for expressing such vulnerable sentiments. Yet, you couldn't blame her. It was the truth. Your fear of Natasha's rejection surpassed the discomfort of voicing your feelings.
"I wish that were possible, my little duckling. If it was, I'd have you wrapped around my neck at all times. Unfortunately, it's not," Natasha spoke gently, her fingers tracing patterns on your back. "But I will hold you as much as I can and I promise that whenever you need me, I'll be there to hold you."
"Promise."
"Always," Natasha answered, sealing the promise with a soft kiss on your forehead.
The promise hung in the air, a comforting pledge that wrapped around you like a warm blanket. As you lay there, cradled in Natasha's arms, the weight of your fractured family and the pain of your recent encounter with your mother seemed to lift, if only momentarily. In Natasha's embrace, the little girl within found peace, and you allowed yourself to accept the vulnerability that came with it.
"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.
"No need to thank me, little duckling. I've got you," Natasha replied, her words a soft melody of comfort.
You had almost drifted off in Natasha's arms when the door creaked open, and quiet shuffle of footsteps approached. Wanda entered the room, her eyes immediately locking onto the scene before her. A warm smile graced her lips as she took in the sight of you nestled in Natasha's embrace.
"Welcome back, sweetheart," Wanda greeted with a smile, her voice a soothing melody that blended with the tranquility of the room.
"Hey, Wanda," you replied, offering a small but genuine smile.
"Such a delightful surprise to see you back so soon. How was your Christmas?" she asked, settling down in front of where you and Natasha were lounging, her hand reaching for yours as she leaned in.
"It wasn't the greatest, but I'm happy to be back," you replied carefully, admiring her auburn hair cascaded in beautiful curls and she wore an elegant emerald dress with a plunging neckline. You tried your best not to stare.
"What's wrong?" Wanda asked, a worried frown marring her beautiful face.
Natasha intervened, gently guiding you aside. "Let's save it for tomorrow, love. It's been an emotional day, and we have guests coming."
"Alright," Wanda answered but her eyes were still full of concern as she turned her attention to you. "Do you have something to wear, sweetie?"
"I have a dress Yelena gave me for Christmas," you answered, glancing at your bag in the hallway. Suddenly remembering the reason for your visit, you added, "Oh, and thank you so much for the Christmas gifts. I loved them."
"You're welcome, my sweet girl," she replied softly. "And thank you for the paintbrushes and colors. I loved them."
"Oh, well, I visited so many stores to make sure I got the best," you rambled, cheeks heating up.
"It was perfect," Wanda murmured, cupping your cheek and kissing it gently and your brain blue screened for a second before stammering out some incoherent words.
"I think you broke her," Natasha chuckled, caressing your back as you hid behind your hands, the little girl within you squealing with joy.
"We can't have that, can we?" Wanda smirked, lowering your hands. "Come now, my pretty girl, let's get you ready for tonight."
Glancing at Natasha for reassurance, she nodded, urging you to follow Wanda. You let go of Wanda's hand and threw yourself into Natasha's arms. She caught you, and the burst of air escaping her lips signaled her surprise. Her warm chuckles filled the air as you beamed at her, cupping her cheeks. Looking down bashfully, you followed the urge of the little girl within and brushed your lips against Natasha's cheek before releasing her and taking Wanda's hand.
Glancing back at Natasha still seated on the couch, you noticed a peculiar expression on her face. Frowning, you almost halted your steps with Wanda when Natasha locked eyes with you. Her enigmatic expression shifted, and she offered a wink that sent a delightful flutter through your stomach and you were excited about how the evening would turn out.