parental book of imagines. | marvel.

Imagine: Why Aren't I Good Enough? II | Black Widow.

If you could describe yourself with one word, it would be monachopsis; the subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place.

Leaving home was the best thing you could do, even if you still suffered after you left. When you arrived at your friends place, their parents immediately welcomed you with loving arms thinking you were one of their own. But yet somehow, it was like you were so far away. They were like the light at the end of the tunnel while you were desperately trying to crawl your way to them, reaching out your hand and missing every time.

Even when you had your own little room and had regular family dinners, it still wasn't family. Even when they were completely comfortable, they would tiptoe around you making sure they didn't upset you. No blood relation, not understanding inside jokes, all the small things added up that slowly separated you from finding love and a home.

You felt out of place. Dirty.

How could you, such a vile person taint someone else?

All the little thoughts slowly spiralled you into insanity.

...

Maybe you were afraid. Afraid of being in such an environment so different from your family's.

Fear, anxiety, and insecurity built up over the time you stayed with your friend. Overwhelming to the point where you couldn't breathe. Couldn't feel. Couldn't speak.

So, you decided you were leaving. Packing once again your bags, you quickly finished and walked towards the front door.

There, you stood still. Frozen in your steps. It wouldn't be okay to leave like this. No matter how you felt, they still loved you and you didn't want it to go unappreciated.

Turning around, you walked towards the couple's room. The light was on and you could hear the TV and soft chuckles coming from the male. You slowly opened the door.

"I uh... I have to go." You said softly. You didn't want to cry but there were already tears pooling your eyes.

Anna, the gentle mother, turned towards you and got up. You flinched, not wanting to be hit, but instead, you were engulfed in a loving hug.

She smiled at you, kissing your forehead. "I know. I heard you packing. I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable."

She was crying too. It wasn't long until her spouse, David, joined the embrace too.

David patted your head. "Remember that this will always be your home. We will always be here. Whenever and whatever. We won't judge. When you feel comfortable, come back and stay."

...

Out on the streets was difficult. Even with money and skills and knowledge, you were still a kid. You were alone and desperately searching for something to save you.

Dark at night where all the creeps came out, you took shelter in a small diner.

There was a special on steak and potatoes. You can't remember when you had a meal made from the sincere efforts of workers. It was usually cheap burgers to save money or greasy pizza. You didn't have the luxury of eating healthy. It was too expensive and one day, you would run dry of money.

Quietly munching, the door opened. Looking up, you saw the man running the show behind the stage. Nick Fury.

A curt and overly happy waitress scurried over. "Hi! What can I get 'cha?" She said in her western accent.

Nick gave her an irritated look. "Coffee. Black. Get me some fries too."

She nodded and went into the back. Nick walked over and slid in the booth.