𝐄𝐗𝐄𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 ━━
✧˖*. | ❝She had a rage inside her that
stung like the stench of blood.❞ | ✧˖*.
In which a Red Room assassin is reverted back to her 8-year-old self and Steve is her babysitter.
✎↷
Started: 04...
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☆
The doctor at the compound gave Darcy permission to leave the infirmary and continue on, but he had given her antidepressants. She didn't think she was depressed - only suicidal - but she had taken them after Steve stared holes in the back of her head.
He grabbed her hand unconsciously, tugging her gently along through the corridors in hopes of reaching the garden without anyone staring at them or pestering Darcy. She glanced down at their hands but decided that she enjoyed the feeling of his hand around hers.
She dared say that she felt happy or giddy, and it was entirely because of Steve. She was glad to have him in her life, but he wasn't hers. She had to share and she wasn't allowed to be greedy.
"I like this," she whispered, glancing back down at their hands.
He glanced down as well. "Yeah."
She squeezed his hand as an experiment.
"Yeah," he breathed out, glancing down at her, a faint smile on his face. "I like this."
She hummed, squinting her eyes as he opened the door outside to the garden. He let go of her hands for a moment in order to let her stroll around. He had to let her breathe. She hadn't been outside since she had the mentality of an 8-year-old.
She walked through rows of flowers, taking her sweet time and trying to ignore the invading thoughts about death floating through her mind, but it was difficult. She sighed, believing that Death had it in for her. He was playing a sort of song with her, torturing her so she would do the deed herself. He was the executioner, but He would force her to use her own hands.
"Are you all right?" Steve questioned, stopping when he was only a few feet away from her.
The sun was hitting her right in the face, causing her to squint and shield her eyes with one hand. It was the hand holding the bottle of antidepressants.
"Yeah," she answered. "For now."
And that was as good as an answer he could have received from someone who recently attempted suicide.
"Wanna stay out here?" Steve asked.
"Yeah."
"You want food?"
"No, not hungry," she answered.
"I'll tell Nat to bring us something," he said instead, taking out his phone to text her.
She could be as quiet as she wanted, and Steve wouldn't care. He decided to give her whatever she wanted that day, but he wasn't going to let her not eat her first meal of the day when it was already past lunchtime.
She didn't answer but showed her appreciation for him by plucking a carnation and handing it to him. He put his phone away and took the flower gently, afraid of it snapping because of his strength.
Natasha, who had walked out with two sandwiches and waters, stopped to watch them. She smiled once she saw the carnation in his hand. Only Natasha seemed to know that carnations stood for fascination and new love.
