𝑻𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒅𝒐𝒐𝒓 ✘ 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐀 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐅𝐅

{6⁹} {FOOLISHNESS IN HOPE}

∆ {6⁹} {FOOLISHNESS IN HOPE} ∆

NATASHA'S VISION WAS spinning by the time Roxi had finished explaining. She could feel the way their hands were gripped together - she'd linked them while Roxi talked to try and anchor herself to the presence of the woman she'd found a home in. She had half a mind to rip herself away from Roxi, to hold her hand close to her chest as if she had been burned, and to scream through watering eyes at the information that she had kept to herself; how could she have not told her?

However, sterile air burned at her eyes that felt dry, scorched any words off of her tongue, her mouth dryer than anything that seemed humanly possible. Natasha found herself simply staring, Roxi's face creased into guilt and dread and fear and what looked like a thousand other things all at once. It seemed so out of place for emotions to be swimming behind those ice blue eyes that Natasha wondered if it had had a hand in rendering her so useless in this moment where she should surely say something. Anything. And yet, Roxi's words simply kept repeating in her head, and she could barely stomach hearing them one more time.

Natasha forced herself to focus on the droning of the white lights, on the distant chatter of Mara as she chatted with Steve in the next room, awe still lacing her gravelly voice and raising it a few tones as she talked about her cat.

How she could dare to go on about such trivial things sent Natasha into a steeper nosedive, falling and spiralling as a stone ground that seemed to be tinted purple by her swaying vision raced up to meet her. The part of her that wanted to yell, to shout, thrived in her utter shock and grew and grew until the only thing she could do to stop it was carefully remove her hand from Roxi's and cup the woman's face in her hands.

Roxi's icy blue eyes met her own forest green, both swirling with a desperation to escape this feeling of impending doom. Natasha's hands were shaking, and it was only then that she realised that it wasn't only her sustained shock, but that Roxi's whole body was trembling with the weight of what she'd forced herself to carry, to hide from Natasha.

Natasha forced herself to take a deep breath, the stinging air barely going into her lungs. She kept inhaling until she couldn't anymore, until her chest began to feel so full and heavy that she felt like she could burst.

She let the air go in a breathless gasp, a flurry of words accompanying it into the thrumming air.

"It's okay, Roxi. We'll be okay." The words were a promise to both of them, because if Natasha wasn't right, she wasn't sure what she'd do.

Roxi had never actually confirmed Natasha's suspicions, but her explanation had been drawn to a close with a pleading look and a whisper of "don't make me say it," and that finality was more than enough for her. Roxi pulled her closer, into a desperate hug that found them both clinging to each others' clothes and never wanting to let go. Natasha buried her face in Roxi's shoulder, praying that it would stifle the tears she was determined not to let fall, trying to use Roxi's body as a shield from the harsh realities of a world that had always been far too hard on her.

She felt Roxi do something similar, and that was enough for any semblance of her stability to evaporate as she collapsed into Roxi, those goddamned tears finally escaping from her eyes and trailing the curves of her face.

Roxi almost shuddered as she felt Natasha melt into her, her entire frame wracked with signs of nothing short of sheer dread, and found herself hating how unusual it was for her to be the one comforting Natasha. Natasha had easily been through more in her life, and yet she was always the ones picking up Roxi's pieces and putting them back together for her, and a sliver of self-loathing wormed its way into Roxi's mind at the thought.