Risen (The Maximoff Twins) •On Hold•

Do You Want To Build a Snowman?

Pietro looked sadly across the room at the space where Wanda's bed used to be. The servants had moved it out sometime in the night, when Pietro was asleep. Wanda had moved into her new room yesterday, never giving her brother an explanation, no matter how much he begged.

He looked out the window to see the snow falling. He smiled, remembering that Wanda loved the snow. He had an idea that might get her out of her room!

He jumped up, racing to her room. He was there in a second. "Wanda?" He knocked. "Do you wanna build a snowman? C'mon, let's go and play! I never see you anymore," He said to the ground. "Come out the door. It's like you've gone away!"

He picked up their toy dogs. His was white, hers was brown. "We used to be best buddies, and now we're not. I wish you would tell me why! Do you wanna build a snowman?" He pressed his lips to the door. "It doesn't have to be a snowman!"

"Go away, Pietro!"

"Ok, bye," He said sadly.

Later that day, their father slid a pair of black gloves onto his daughter's hands. "This should help." He looked her in the eyes. "Remember, conceal it-"

"Don't feel it, don't let it show," Wanda said in unison with him, smiling.

Pietro tried regularly to get his twin out of her room, to no avail. A couple of winters later, he ran over to the door again. "Do you want to build a snowman? Or ride our bike around the halls? I think some company is overdue. I've started talking to the pictures on the walls!" He glanced at the painting across the hall. "Hang in there, Joan." He sighed.

"It get a little lonely, all these empty rooms. Just watching the hours tick by." He clicked his tongue in sync with the grandfather clock.

Two days later, Wanda was in her room- as usual- and her parents were talking to her. "Wanda, calm down! Being stressed only makes it worse, calm-" Her father reached out to embrace her, but she stepped back.

"Don't touch me! Please! I don't want to hurt you!"

Her parents exchanged sad glances.

Several years later, fifteen year old Pietro ran into his parents' room, giving them a big hug. They were going on a trip, they said, to the twins' cousin's wedding. "See ya in two weeks!" He said cheerily, wishing his parents farewell.

"Do you have to go?" Wanda asked when she went to say goodbye.

"We'll be fine, Wanda," Her father assured her.

But, instead, two weeks later, Pietro found himself at their funeral. He stood quietly, his eyes scanning for Wanda, but she was nowhere to be seen.

People just kept coming up to him, with they're "I'm sorry for your loss."es and their, "Where's your sister?"s.

Pietro knew where she was; in her room, no doubt. Why she hadn't shown for the funeral, he didn't know. He was a little angry at her about it, but she'd never really liked being around lots of people at once. He remembered that there was a reason other than that she was shy, but he couldn't remember what. He decided that she was grieving in her own way, and that going to the funeral would have been just too much for her.

After it was over, he walked over to her room, knocking softly on the door. "Wanda? Please, I know you're in there. People are asking where you've been. They say, 'Have courage.' and I'm trying to. I'm right out here for you, just let me in." His eyes welled up with tears. "We only have each other. It's just you and me. What are we gonna do? Do you want to build a snowman?" He choked out, tears rolling down his face as he slid down the door to the floor, sobbing quietly.

On the other side of the door, Wanda was leaning against the door too, crying harder than she ever had in her life. Her red energy was filling the room with a red mist, and she couldn't control it. She just wished that she could come out, or let him in. She just wanted to see her brother again. But she couldn't. She never wanted to hurt him again. Ever. And if locking him out was the only way to do that, then she'd do it. No matter how much it tore them both apart.