Shattered Hearts ◇ L. Laufeyson

5 ◇ wanda

Avenger's Compound - Upstate New York

I HAD TO get out of that room. I didn't care if they thought I was being dramatic or causing a scene, I could feel the judgment rolling off of them. And that was before the others knew about Loki and I.

Mt stitches had broken and I could feel the blood pooling on my stomach. I didn't mind, though, it gave me an excuse to escape the room and the tension within.

I stomped through the halls, going back to the medical center. I had stitched myself up on my own a few times, so I didn't mind doing it again. I was just glad to leave.

This wasn't like me, though. I preferred being around my family; sure, I enjoyed my alone time very, very much, and I hadn't seen the others in so long - I should have been happy to stay. Then again, I had a wild ride for the past few weeks and it was understandable that I was reacting this way, right?

The medical room was dim due to the only light coming from the monitors casting a blue and green glow on the room.

I tore off my tee shirt and started unwrapping the bandage, careful to put the sticky, bloody wraps into the bin. As I reached for an alcohol pad to clean the area, there was a small knock on the door.

An accented, soft voice came from the other side. "Y/N?"

It was Wanda, her voice calm and soothing. "I'm going to come in, okay?"

I continued cleaning my cuts as she wandered in, each step she took careful and considered, like she was worried how I would react to her getting closer. I didn't really give her a reaction, I just focused on threading my stitching needle.

"I can do this myself, you know," I began, taking in a deep breath before I lined up the needle with my skin.

"I know," she replied casually, leaning against the table across from me. "I'm not worried about your cuts, Y/N."

"Hm," was the only response I gave her. Any more, and I probably would start crying again and oh boy, was I so sick of crying. This wasn't like me - I'm a freaking Stark, for God's sake. We always push on with a stupid smile and sarcastic comment. That's how it's always been; whereas now I feel like I'm going crazy and I'm in way over my head.

Wanda didn't pressure me to talk, not at first, at least. She just watched me as I stitched up my cut, carefully tying off my surgical wound. After a few moments, her gaze settled on my face.

"Tell me about him," she told me, her voice low-toned but overshadowed with a positive flow.

I swallowed, continuing to stitch myself. I was actively trying to focus more on a clean stitch rather than be bothered by explaining myself more. "Who?"

Wanda let out a small laugh, like windchimes. Her demure portrayed like we were two gal-pals out at brunch, not two superheroes in a lab about to go to war. Her red hair fell over her face and she moved it behind her ear before settling her arms crossed over her chest. "Come on, Y/N," she said coyly, her eyebrows raising a bit. "I want to hear everything about him. I've never met Loki, you know. I don't know much about him, and I figured--" she paused, sending me an encouraging smile, "--I figured you're the best person to tell me all about him."

I looked up at Wanda suddenly, her words catching me off guard. She looked at me with genuine care, like a sister at a sleepover. Her eyes egged me on to spill my secrets about Loki.

"He's..." I started, though I didn't exactly know where to go with it. There was so much to Loki, how could I even begin?

Wanda smiled, nodding enthusiastically for me to continue. I still focused on my needlework, debating on what to say. I swallowed, finishing my last stitch and putting the needle down as memories clouded my mind. Should I tell Wanda Loki's and my story, or simply about him?