I'll wait for you (Clintasha)✔️

❤︎✧9✧❤︎ When she gets home

Clint's birthday was in two days.

Natasha was really excited about it. She had used the seashells that she had collected that day at the beach to make a wind chime for him.

She was half done with it. She had selected the best and most exotic shells and stringed them beautifully in a spiral, adding little bells at the base of each strand.

She was satisfied with it. It reminded her of the wonderful time she had at the beach and of the sunset. She hoped it would remind Clint of that happy time too.

Natasha planned to finish it, as well as make a birthday card for him, wishing that all his wishes come true and thank him for all that he'd done for her when she got home that day.

At the start of recess, Natasha headed to the library to have her literature essay printed. As the sign-up booth for a school performance was right in front of the main staircase, the whole hallway was crowded and Natasha decided to use the back staircase to reach the library.

With the thumbdrive clutched in her palm, she ascended the steps towards the third floor. The back staircase was empty and quiet as it was rarely used. A janitor's closet hid in the stairwell and a few mops and brooms rested lazily by the railings.

As Natasha reached the second floor, she suddenly felt a sharp, stabbing pain in her chest. She hurriedly crouched down and wrapped her arms around herself, her face scrunched up in agony. Her breathing grew shallower and her face paler. Beads of cold sweat trickled down the side of her head and she let out a final gasp before collapsing into the ground.

---------------------------------------------

Meanwhile at their usual lunch table, Clint was waiting for Natasha to get back. The seat was left empty between him and Bucky, and a wholemeal sandwich lay on the table in wait of its owner. Clint didn't touch his food and he often looked in the direction of the library and main staircase, assuming Natasha would emerge from there.

After twenty five minutes passed, Clint had a feeling that something bad happened to Natasha. It would usually take only ten minutes to print something and get back. Besides, Natasha wasn't one to dillydally and waste time. Clint felt a gaping hole within him, sucking away all feelings, leaving only the bad, foreboding ones. He couldn't wait for anything to happen to Natasha.

With that, he sprung up from his seat and headed to the library, squeezing past the crowd of people at the hallway to make it up the main staircase.

After looking into the printer room and found no trace of Natasha, he searched every row of shelves and ended up back at the entrance, scratching the back of his head in worry, and clueless.

He decided to ask the librarian if she had seen Natasha, identifying her as a redhead as there weren't many girls with red hair at school.

The answer he got made his heart hit the ground. She didn't even reach the library, which meant something must have happened to her along the way. The thing was, he hadn't seen her anywhere along the way, he had covered the usual route up to the library, unless...

He exited the library and decided to check out the back staircase, just in case Natasha had chosen to go by that way. He couldn't leave out any possibility.

And as Clint had partially expected, he found Natasha lying by the landing.

"Natasha!" He sprinted towards her, at a speed that could easily win him the medal at the Olympics.

Clint knelt down beside her and supported her by the shoulders, hugging her close to his chest and shaking her gently, calling out to her. Natasha's face had now become a ghastly white, her lips the lightest shade of peach, if not white.

He reached to hold her hand and almost jumped back in shock. They were icy cold.

Continuing on his Olympic run, Clint rushed Natasha, who was tucked closely to his chest and in his arms, to the sick bay.

Clint pushed through the throng of people, not even making any attempt to apologise or excuse himself. Angry and judgmental eyes stared and glared back at him, but he didn't care. All he cared about was Natasha.

Bruce spotted Clint running across the hallway with Natasha in his arms and notified everyone. Soon, everyone had set down their food and sat in silence, their faces plastered with grim expressions.

Jerome arrived driving the black Mercedes ten minutes later and Clint placed Natasha in the backseat with Rosa. He jumped in too, deciding to accompany her.

Throughout the entire journey where the car sped along the road  at the speed of light, Clint had an arm around Natasha's shoulder and her head rested in the crook of his shoulder. Clint's other hand held on to Natasha's, his thumb gently drawing circles on the back of her hand, hoping to warm her icy skin.

As the car pulled up at the A&E section of the hospital, the truth hung in the still afternoon air that Natasha wouldn't be getting home any time soon.

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