"𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒈𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒍𝒚 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑰𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒖𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒚,"
Rosalie Mai had dealt with the Red Room and its Widow's before and she thought that was that. She had no interest in seeing them - seeing her...
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IT HAD ONLY BEEN a week since half of the universe's population was blipped away. A week since Rosalie crumbled before Irina's eyes. The image was burned into her mind, she couldn't close her eyes without seeing the terrified and confused eyes of her love slowly disintegrate. After she called Yelena about Rosalie and Fanny, that was the last she had heard from her. Yelena never reached out and always sent her calls to voicemail.
Irina was worried, worried that Yelena was drowning in her pain and sorrow without anyone to pull her out. If she wanted to, she could track her down, like in her old Red Room days, but that would be wrong. Yelena didn't want to be found or contacted and Irina respected that.
Her days without Rosalie were lonely and boring. Most days, she stayed in her PJs, not bother to get dressed as she trudged around the now quite flat. She found herself unable to cook meals, the thought of doing so without Rosalie being too much to bear. She stuck to ordering in, spending her nights on the bed, watching all the movies Rosalie loved — Home Alone 2, Pulp Fiction, Jurassic Park — but after the first few nights of doing that, she had to stop.
Irina found herself laughing, looking over to her left, expecting Rosalie to be there. Or, she remembered the small and random facts she used to whisper every time, not caring if she had already told Irina ten times before.
On week two, Irina packed away all of Rosalie's things into boxes and shoved them in her old office. It became too hard to look at her things, to be reminded every single time she looked at her clothes or her collection of old Nintendo games. She kept out a few things, like sweaters that still smelt like her or a few of her pendants, just to wear when she wanted to feel closer to her.
On week three, there was a knock at the door. Irina opened it, expecting nothing. "Irina?" She recognized the deep voice of Marcus Bates anywhere.
"Marcus!" She cried out, throwing her arms around him without thinking. Startled by the affection, it took Marcus a moment to hug her back. "I'm so happy to see you!" Her voice was muffled against his shoulder.
Marcus chuckled softly, pulling her back so he could get a good look at her. She was dishevelled — her skin was sickly pale and she looked like she hadn't slept in days. "May I...come in?" He questioned, taking a step forward.
"O-Of course!" Irina stumbled aside and allowed Marcus in. She shut the door behind him and watched as he looked around her unnervingly clean flat. "H-How are you?" She questioned, following loosely behind him.
"...okay," Marcus nodded slowly, eyes seemingly searching for one spec of dust, anything to show that the house is lived in. "Is Rosalie out?" Marcus questioned quite shakily. He looked over at Irina, who froze.
