You took a deep breath as you stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, fixing your ponytail for the 100th time. You wanted to look as presentable as possible, it's what your mom would've wanted. Though why are you still bending to her will?
You were snapped out of your thoughts by your boyfriend's question.
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
You turned to look at him, a blank expression on your face.
"Yes. I need answers. I also would like to get her admitted to a mental institution."
Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was nervous, considering the fact he was meeting your mother. And by the sound of it, she isn't a very pleasant person to be around.
He just hoped for the best.
And so did you.
When you rang the doorbell, you heard footsteps pattering towards the door. You gulped. Your mom didn't know about your unplanned visit and you hoped she'd at least let you inside. Maybe you could gather some of your childhood belongings.
The door creaked open, and stood there, your mother.
It's been a while since you've seen her, she had bags under her eyes like she hadn't slept for days, and was in some plaid pajama bottoms and an oversized shirt.
"Y/n." She said, emotionless. She then leaned against the door frame and crossed her arms.
"What are you doing here? Come to cry to my feet and beg for forgiveness?"
You shook your head.
"I just want answers, mom."
She furrowed her brows, then shifted her gaze over to Steve who was standing there nervously. She rolled her eyes and looked back to you.
"Is this the boyfriend you were talking about?" She asked.
You hummed in response with a nod.
"Yes ma'am. Steve Rogers." He introduced himself and held out his hand, but she didn't shake it.
"What kind of answers are you looking for, Y/n?" She asked, her attention back on you.
"I need to know why you treat me like this. And I'd like to help you get some help."
She silently agreed by letting the two of you through the door.
The house was the same as it always was. The floral wallpaper, dark brown wood flooring, the narrow staircase leading up to the loft area, the dirty welcome mat that stood outside the front door, the screened in patio out back.
It smelled of alcohol and pasta. The TV was playing some talk show you didn't know the name of. It was all too familiar. And the memories flooded in.
"Mommy can I please go to Kate's house for a bit?" You pleaded. It had been a while since you've ever gone to Kate's house. It was the first day back to school and the two of you wanted to talk about what middle school was going to be like.
Your mom sipped her wine, not even making eye contact with you and said,
"No."
"Why?" You whined, tears welling up in your eyes.
"You've been getting off track with your studies. Go read your Algebra book mommy got you and then I'll quiz you. You better not get any questions wrong. You remember what happens when you get things wrong, right?"
Yeah, she was teaching Algebra to a 10 year old. It wasn't easy, forcing you to learn something beyond your academic level.
You simply nodded your head and ran upstairs to study once more.
You were pulled out of the memory by the sound of the coffee maker beeping.
The three of you sat in the living room. You and Steve at the couch and your mom at the chair.
"So, what's your question?" She asked again.
"Why do you treat me like this? Making me be an overachiever, prodigy child? You know how stressful it was to be in 3rd grade learning about biology and the scientific method? How jealous I was of all the kids whose parents didn't make them sit at the dining table till 10 o'clock at night writing essays?" The tears were starting to run again.
Steve put a firm, comforting grip on your thigh.
Your mom was silent for a bit, before she spoke.
"I just wanted you to be better. To be the best. That's all."
"Mom, I know you think you're caring for me, but you aren't. You're hurting me, mom."
She sighed,
"Well, I guess I'm a bad mom."
You rolled your eyes at her gaslighting. It didn't work then, it didn't work now.
"Mom, grandma said you should be admitted to a hospital so you could get help."
"No. I don't need help. There's nothing wrong with me. Martha doesn't know what she's talking about." She called your grandma, her own mother, by her first name.
"Danielle," you started, giving her the same treatment she gave your grandma. "There's clearly a disorder you have. I and so many others only want to help you. Please." You pleaded.
"No. I don't need help. If this is all you came here for I want you out of my house. NOW!" She shouted, making you jump.
Anger riled up in Steve.
"Don't talk to her like that!" He shouted. You grabbed his arm.
"Come on, it's not worth it."
The two of you left the house, unsatisfied.
YOU ARE READING
New Romantics
Fanfiction(Steve Rogers x reader) A uni au because I felt like it. This is also an idea I want to attempt to execute so don't expect consistent updates. Also be prepared for longer chapters, yay!
