I love you (Clintasha)✔️

✬♧13♧✬ Of another

A few days later, Natasha was due to be discharged.

Phil had arranged for the doctor to do a thorough assessment of Natasha's condition and take some time to advise Clint about it.

"We've done a few checks, Mr Barton. Ms Romanoff suffered a concussion which caused her to lose a part of her memory."

"But how is it she can remember everyone else, just not me?" Clint asked, exasperated.

"We've had cases like this before, few, but we're not able to provide an explanation for that yet, the brain is highly complicated. What you can do for now is to slowly guide her in regaining her memory. I wouldn't suggest you force her too much, as it may cause her to distant herself from those memories even more and eventually completely lose them."

Clint gulped, it was a thin line he was treading. One wrong move and they'd be on the road of no return.

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

Clint unlocked the door and their happy abode came into view. Natasha stood unmoving by the door, glancing around the unfamiliar space. Clint invited her in and she entered slowly, taking every step with uncertainty. She came to a shelf with framed photographs. Of herself, in a pristine white wedding dress in the arms of her said husband, the man who she knew as Clint. Another was of herself and him when they were younger, she had ribbons and colourful hairspray on while he had a blue star tattoo on his cheek.

All that seemed foreign to her and her head hurt from trying to remember. Clint stood nearby watching and hoping that those photos would trigger her memory and that he could welcome his wife back with open arms. But his heart faltered with disappointment when she carried on past the photos without saying a word.

That night, Clint sat on the bed reading a book. Natasha emerged from the bathroom after her shower in a tank top and shorts. She hung her towel by the wall and stood awkwardly staring at the bed, with her right hand holding her left arm. Clint saw her and put his book down.

Natasha looked over at the photo hanging above the bed. Two silhouettes against a beautiful sunset, bliss carved into the outlines of their faces. But she didn't feel anything for it.

She approached the bed slowly, confusion and a tinge of fear evident in her eyes. As she reservedly sat down at the edge of the bed, Clint gently laid his hand on her arm but she recoiled as if he had struck her.

The pain was evident in her eyes, the hurt in his.

Natasha looked like a helpless child, eyes glistening with tears of fear and doubt. Clint's eyes, too, shone with a layer of tears, the agony of having the love of his life treat him like a stranger, like an attacker that would hurt her. He never would hurt her.

"I-I'm...sorry..." Natasha looked up at him, a tear escaping down her cheek.

Clint wanted so much to wipe her tears away, to kiss her fears away, to hold her and assure her that he was there for her and that she needn't be afraid.

It was so hard when she was physically near him, yet her heart was far away.

"It's okay."

That night, Natasha slept in the room while Clint took the couch. She had wanted to sleep on the couch at first but he suggested otherwise. He couldn't let his beloved wife sleep on the couch, could he?

Natasha's dreams that night were invaded by memories. She saw a man with chocolate brown hair and turquoise gray eyes. He was smiling, holding out a conch shell to her, and she felt warm inside.

She hadn't seen him in such a long time that he'd become buried in a part of her memory. He hadn't been forgotten though, the memories only unearthed, awakened, magnified.

Her memory of this man seemed to have replaced that of Clint's.

Natasha felt a sense of familiarity and comfort. She wanted to see this man so badly.

🌿⚓️🌸❁🌸❁🌸❁🌸❁🌸⚓️🌿
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