"Every time, Gilbert. Every single time." Her voice was weak sounding, tired. "He won't even see me, he won't even talk to me! He lies all the time!" her voice rose in desperate desire to be heard. He paused as he set the coffee pot into the coffee maker and rested his hands on the counter. He felt helpless, a lump in his throat that made it impossible to speak, not that he had the faintest idea what to say.
She came into the kitchen, looking weak and faded in the bright kitchen light as she leaned against the door frame. "Why does he say he'll see me? Every time he says it'll be different, I believe him! I can't help it, I need to believe him. But it never works out, he never wants me!" she slides down the door frame, her hair catching in the rough wood. She starts to cry silently, her eyes pressing shut as a sharp wail came from her throat. "I can't do this anymore, Gilbert. They all think I'm crazy, they all think I'm disgusting. But I can't change, no matter how much I try." She covers her face. "Gilbert, I can't do it."
He kneels beside her, gently pulling her hair out of the snags on the wood and smoothing it down before pulling her into his arms. She grabbed onto him, clenching her fingers into his shirt and clawing him lightly as she drags him closer. He lets her cry without saying anything, his chin on her head.
"Do they think I want this? To be in love with someone who hates me so much? DO YOU?" her voice raises at the last moment, cracking. She pulls away from him sharply and stumbles to her feet, nearly cracking her head on the wall.
He grabs her arm before she can get away, holding her tighter than was probably comfortable for her. He pressed his hand against her cheek gently. "I don't think that." He says.
She looks away from him, crying helplessly. He grabs her into his arms again and this time she just leans against him. "I pretend you're him. Right now, I'm pretending you're him."
"I know." He closes his eyes. He wanted to be angry and shout, but this was her time. She needed him, and even if she was pretending he was that fucking dick, Ivan, it was still Gilbert holding her in his arms. He was the one that was there, who opened the door for her every time she knocked and answered her phone when she wanted to talk about small, frivolous things.
"Why." She whispered.
He knew it was a question, and he knew what she was asking, why was he here? he didn't respond, he wasn't sure of the answer himself. He wiped her tears away, hoping she didn't mind his rough skin touching her and leaned to kiss her neck. He kissed the underside of her jaw, loving the way her hands felt as the clutched at his back.
"Please." She begged. "Please touch me."
He kisses the corner of her mouth and then presses his lips against hers gently, cupping her face in his hands.
"Not today, Natasha." He picks her up and carries her to his bedroom, letting her roll onto his bed. She reaches up for him, stretching a leg and wrapping it around his waist. He lays on top of her but then rolls them onto their sides, kissing her nose and forehead.
He lets her undress him, watching how desperate she was for his attention. It made him feel gross, like he was taking advantage of her. When her hands started wandering, he pulled them away and cuddled her close.
She sighed, finally giving up and just letting him hold her. "Please." She tried one last time. He said no again but she didn't seem upset. She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against his chest, falling asleep quickly.