"You're going to have to talk about it eventually."
Yelena huffs, readjusting on the too-comfy couch and pulling her legs up so they're crossed. She sits back on the couch, fingers absentmindedly running along the rips in her jeans.
"Alright, how about you tell me about your sister? She seems nice."
Yelena rolls her eyes. She doesn't want to talk about what happened, she doesn't want to talk about her sister, and she sure as hell doesn't want to be here.
"I can't help you if you don't talk to me."
Yelena doesn't want to talk with this woman. This woman that Natasha said would help her and so far has only made her irritated. Granted, Natasha said that it's a two-sided effort and Yelena ignored that in favor of being bitter about the whole situation, but that doesn't matter.
"Yelena."
The person talking to her, a woman by the name of Isabel, with a too-caring face and too-caring eyes and an outfit that would rival Yelena's had she not given an ounce of a shit today - which, to be fair, she almost didn't, and somehow this woman also has the audacity to challenge her. (She hasn't yet, but Yelena can tell. And she hates it.)
"Это такая пустая трата времени," Yelena mutters, not meeting her eyes and now gently tugging at the loose threads of her ripped jeans. (This is such a waste of time.)
"Почему вы так думаете?" Isabel asks, and Yelena immediately stiffens. She forgot that Isabel speaks Russian. It's better than Natasha's. (Why do you think that?)
"How much longer do I have to be here?" Yelena finally asks, glancing at the clock with her arms crossed against her chest.
"You can leave whenever you want, Yelena," Isabel says, and Yelena's almost tempted to get up, but the absence of an opinion from Isabel makes her unsure.
There's a minute of silence before Isabel speaks again, "Вы бы предпочли говорить по-русски?" (Would you prefer to speak Russian?)
God, Yelena hates choices.
"Твоя сестра выбрала меня специально, чтобы помочь тебе. Она милая, она заботится," Isabel rambles, and Yelena's chest aches as that reminds her of Kate a little. "Я помню, как услышал о ее смерти и подумал, что мы потеряли одну из хороших. Стив Роджерс... до периода неповиновения правительству, он был тем, кем я хотел, чтобы мои мальчики выросли. Хорошие мужчины, вы знаете?" (Your sister picked me specifically to help you. She's nice, she cares. I remember hearing about her death and thinking that we lost one of the good ones. Steve Rogers... before the government defiance streak, he was what I wanted my boys to grow into. Good men, you know?)
Yelena's quiet. She doesn't know what to make of this conversation.
"Of course," Isabel tilts her head slightly and Yelena wonders why she's switched back to English, "She's back now. She mentioned something about you not talking to your parents?"
"They're not my parents," Yelena pulls a little harder at the threads, furrowing her brow. She doesn't want to talk about Melina and Alexei. They left her just like Natasha did.
(She know Natasha's probably coming back, but she can't help it. Natasha's bound to leave her eventually, right?)
"Why not?"
"они придурки," Yelena mutters, hating how her wall is starting to crumble with this woman. She can't help it, every time she thinks about them she gets angry. (They're assholes.)
YOU ARE READING
rain is always gonna come
Fanfictionyelena's not exactly the most emotionally fluid person in the world. she knows anger, she knows grief, she knows sadness, she knows happiness, she knows love. but she doesn't always know how to handle it. so when she ends up on her big sister's couc...
