TF2 Spy x Reader: C'était Toi

Chapter One

 "He will never love me."

"Who would love an excuse of a girl like me?"

"I kill people for a living!"

The condescending voices spiralled in your mind. With each sentence, it felt like one dagger more stabbed into your heart. You pinched the bridge of your nose when an unpleasant, sourness shot up your nose. Stop looking at Spy that way. 

The rising oceans in your eyes threatened to release. Don't cry... not in front of them. Tough, mean and unfeeling mercenaries. You should be the type who could take anything, especially when death was on the horizon. Yet, you were obsessing over a colleague, who kept so many secrets to himself. 

What's wrong with me? 

Clenching your fists tight enough that fingers dug into your palm and left marks, you were furious about yourself as you held back any signs of weakness. 

I am here to work along these men, not fall in love with them! You reminded yourself as you attempt to blink away the tears, this is simply foolish of me.

It all started when you were first hired for these people called Reliable Excavation Demolition or RED for short. A job stable enough, you know? Kill people for blood money? No big deal. As cheesy as it sounds, you fell in love with those eyes when you first saw them. As days passed by, you grew much fonder of Spy. Perhaps, a bit too fond for your liking.

And yet, the uncertainty that grew within that beating heart of yours seemed to have taken over your mind too, like an infection, a cancer. The never-ending heartache engulfed any form of affectionate feelings for him. The same voices followed your shadow everywhere. There was the burning temptation to scream, for them to leave, but once again, that would show weakness. 

Fear is an emotion all of us feel. However, you always knew that it was an unwritten rule to forget about emotion when you had scrawled your signature on that contract. Besides, what are they good for when they could interfere with a job like yours? When you would hesitate when your finger was on the trigger? 

Every night before you went to bed, you inspected under your bed only to make sure your arsenal was there to fend off those phantom cries. Day after day, you grew high-strung, a paranoid wreck, but the mask you wore only thickened.

Sometimes, you would even jump at the sound of finished toast. Thankfully, no one was there to see you get all ruffled up over that; hiding under the dining table like a child would under his bed when thunder roared above. Or, at least you believed it to be. 

A Frenchman harrumphed good-naturedly, yanking you out of your angsty fit. The last person you expected to see was right there, the devil-may-care Spy with a cigarette dangling from his lips. He grinned, lopsidedly, offering his gloved hand to help you up from the benches. 

"I zhink it's time for battle, shall we?"