Based on the song "Arms" by Christina Perri
I never thought that you would be the one to hold my heart
But you came around and you knocked me off the ground from the start
You put your arms around me
And I believe that it's easier for you to let me go
You put your arms around me and I'm home
"Why are women so hard to figure out?" Clint groaned, resting his head on the kitchen table on top of his crossed arms, his posture looking completely defeated.
Steve stopped mid-chew and looked at him, clearly and completely confused. "Are you afking meef?" he asked, with a mouth full of cereal threatening to spill.
"Do you see anyone else here?"
The Captain looked around the room as he finished chewing, completing with a forced swallow and returning to looking at Clint with confusion. "No, but you ask me of all people? I have a less than stellar track record with the ladies. At least you have a girlfriend."
"Had...a girlfriend."
Steve leaned back in his chair and set his bowl down on the table, the room now holding a silence so uncomfortable that the sound of his spoon hitting the side of it resonated around them. He took a deep breath and waited for Barton to say any more, but when he didn't, he finally broke the quiet with a single word.
"Again?"
How many times will you let me change my mind and turn around?
I can't decide if I'll let you save my life or if I'll drown
I hope that you see right through my walls
I hope that you catch me 'cause I'm already falling
I'll never let our love get so close
You put your arms around me and I'm home
The world is coming down on me and I can't find a reason to be loved
I never wanna leave you but I can't make you bleed if I'm alone
Dating Clint was exactly as you imagined it would be from the day that Natasha had introduced you to him. Sure, she had talked him up, making him sound like the world's perfect boyfriend, but she really wasn't far off. It was an easy friendship that didn't take long to develop into love, but your own fears of how to be in a relationship kept getting in the way. You had been hurt too many times and it clouded your attempts at happiness, with your last attempt before Clint being much more traumatic than any others.
"Was this argument any different than the last one?" Maria asked, handing you a glass of wine, though you only pushed it away. "Or any different than the last hundred?"
"Smartass," you scoffed, "don't you think I know how this looks? When I say 'it's not him, it's me', I mean it. I screw these things up, no matter how good they are for me. He's better off just moving on once and for all."
She sat herself down at the table across from you, gently swirling her glass in her hands, careful to not allow the dark red liquid to spill over the rim. Several minutes had passed with her watching you, maybe waiting for you to say something, or maybe waiting to know what to say, but the silence was grating on the both of you.
"Maria, just say what you want to say. I can take it."
She cleared her throat and took a long drink from her glass, setting it down and waiting for a moment again before she spoke. She looked at you until you finally relented and met her gaze, making it clear that she wanted you to hold it. "(Y/N), have you ever thought that maybe the reason you keep going back to him is because that's where you're supposed to be?"
"But I'm a mess. He deserves better."
"Says you."
Finally giving in, you took a drink and didn't stop until the glass was empty, cringing at the dry burn in your throat as you swallowed heavily. With a small cough and a quick rub of your eyes to stop the tears that were ready to drop, you stood and began to pace in front of her, but she remained motionless as she watched you.
"Yeah, says me. Listen, I've proven time and time again...well, maybe not that many times...but repeatedly that I'm broken. I can't maintain a healthy relationship to save my life, so why would I put him through that? Hmm? Tell me, Maria. I'm open to suggestions."
"Okay, how about because he wants you to."
~~~
After you had left Maria's and headed back to your own apartment, she called Clint to let him know that you had been by and to give him an idea of how your conversation had gone. It wasn't that she was betraying your trust, per se, rather that she was trying to get you to see that you were wrong, because she knew that she was right.
Clint also knew that you were wrong, and he was on his way to do his best to convince you of that when he ran into the boyfriend that had come before him; the guy who Clint felt was the biggest responsibility for the current situation. He might have let his presence slide if he hadn't been standing in front of your building and yelling up to your window, appearing to be in a state of sloppy drunkenness.
"Hey, man. I think you should take the hint that (Y/N) doesn't want to talk to you by the fact that her window's still closed."
Your ex turned at the sound of Clint's voice and immediately slouched, disappointed that his efforts to get your attention were stopped by him of all people. "Well, shit," he groaned, "of anyone to walk along this sidewalk right now, it had to be you, huh? Mr. Big Hero Man. Obviously not Mr. Perfect though." He gave a sideways smile and turned back towards your building, again making far too much noise, "(Y/N)! Come out here and talk to me!"
You had been able to ignore him for the past thirty minutes, but now you were worried that your neighbors would start to get pissed at the incessant noise. Pushing the smallest opening that you could in your curtains, you peeked out to the sidewalk below, gasping and throwing them open when you saw Clint next to him. With a little extra effort, you were able to push your old and weathered window open so that you could hear them more clearly.
"I may not be perfect, no, but I've heard the same about you. And I think it would be in your best interests to leave." Clint took a few more steps towards him but stopped when he saw you from the corner of his eye. "If she wants to be left alone, I'm going to make sure that she's left alone."
Your ex towered over Clint by at least a foot in height, but he was no match for the Avenger if a fight were to break out. Though you wouldn't admit it out loud, there was a part of you that wanted to see Clint unleash on the guy, and to see him beat some sense into him after the agony he had put you through. Clint had only known about a half of the details, but they were enough for you to know that he wouldn't hold back.
"Clint, I'm fine, just go," you yelled to him from above. "I'm not letting him in."
"Come on, (Y/N), I just want to talk to you! Don't be such a bitch!"
"One."
He looked over at Clint with a quizzical look, his head tilted to the side. "What?"
"Two."
"What the hell are you doing, bird brain?"
"Counting," Clint paused, an eyebrow raised as he waited for a response of either a fight or a flee, but neither came.
"Three."
It was impressive how fast Clint had the jerk face down on the ground with his heel dug into his spine so that he couldn't move. It wasn't that you enjoyed the sound of him crying, but the smile that crossed your lips felt good. And watching Clint in action was something that you rarely had a chance to do; if you stayed with him, you wanted to make it a point to see more of it. "Clint, let him go," you called down to him, "I think he gets your point."
"Do you get my point?" Clint smirked, kneeling down next to the man who now looked at him with fear in his eyes. "Is the lady correct?"
"Ow...ugh...yeah...yeah, I get it." Once he was released he quickly made his way down the sidewalk with a slight limp in his step, not looking back, and not likely to return. You closed your window without another word to Clint, who was standing in place, staring up at you with surprise and and a hint of hurt as you slowly pulled the curtains in to cover the glass and block his view of you. You wanted to spare him the sight of you falling apart, knowing that he would try to fix it. He would try to fix you.
I try my best to never let you in to see the truth
And I've never opened up
I've never truly loved till you put your arms around me
And I believe that it's easier for you to let me go
You sat in your apartment in silence for over an hour, still in place on the floor beneath the window. A part of you expected Clint to knock on your door, but it never happened. You were relieved but also sad, not knowing if this was really the end or if it was another rotation in the cycle that the two of you seemed stuck in. You had broken up and reconciled so many times, that to think it would stick this time hurt more than you had anticipated.
You wanted to call him, but your hand wouldn't move; this was the right thing, you were sure of it. He deserved someone who knew how to love him back, and you couldn't bring yourself to believe that it was you. Finally convincing yourself to stand, you shook off the pins and needles sensation in your legs to pull yourself up along the windowsill, peeking out between the curtains at where Clint had been.
Except that he was still there, looking up at you.
Your hand raised to give a small wave, but it wasn't reciprocated. He simply smiled softly and slowly turned to walk away, not looking back but knowing that you were watching. He had waited for you one final time, so that you knew he was giving you what you wanted. So that you knew that it was done.
But now that you had what you thought you wanted, all you wanted was him.