Prompt: Kiss.
disclaimer: disclaimed.
She could feel the warmth of his fingertips behind her ear, and his other arm beneath the thoracic portion of her back, cradling her shoulders. She could feel the way he held onto her so tightly, never wanting her to leave, and making it the only thing that kept her feet feeling for the ground - metaphorically, of course.
She could feel his even breaths against the skin of her cheek, and feel his chest rise and fall, before and after hers in tandem. She could feel him. Clint. She could feel the safety he offered, the admiration, the warmth, and the love. She could feel everything, everything she should have felt before. Everything she should have let herself feel before. Still, it didn't matter. It felt right, there and then, and if that was the way fate worked, then that be it.
Beyond the fear, she could feel the tap of a tear on her cheek. He was crying. And she had things to say - words of comfort, a sarcastic remark that never failed to lighten his mood, a cold joke - but it was impossibly hard to breathe. There was water in her throat. Clint didn't care to wipe the next one away. He didn't care to hide how he'd slowly started to sob. She felt it again.
"You can't leave, Tasha. You can't just go." He whispered, looking her dead in the eyes. Natasha noted that his voice was on the brink of breaking. It made the inside of her chest hurt. "We're not done yet. We still have so much to do. I have so much to say. You can't leave yet, you got me? I won't let you."
She felt the next tear on her cheek, and the next. And as her eyes looked back into his, she realized that it took all the pain away. It took away the hot and the cold, the ringing in her ears, and it dulled the searing pain that crippled her chest from left to right, all across. Her lungs burned, but it took the sear away too. Still, her body felt a little lighter, breaths a little easier and lights a little brighter. She shut her eyes.
Natasha could feel his fingertips grip tighter, breaths coming a little bit harder, sobs louder, heart pounding faster. She could hear his voice calling her back in, as if she'd been gone.
She could feel everything, like the inevitable fear that crawled up her bones, leaving them heavy with the weight of lead, and making her want to whisper back that she was afraid. Afraid of leaving everything and everyone and him behind. Afraid of what it would do. And she could feel his lips on hers, fitting between the empty gaps, moist with the salty taste of tears, breathing life into her.
Clint could taste the blood on her lips. When he kissed her, he could feel the weak reciprocation. He pressed harder, parting her lips further to breathe air into her mouth. When they parted, he could feel the coat of her blood on his own lips. He could taste it, and the blood left his heart racing, tears rolling. Natasha couldn't die. She just couldn't. She couldn't cop out on him, not like that. Not that young. Not without him. Not in pain.
His eyes, swollen and blurred with tears, watched her face, waiting for a sound. She barely coughed. Blood dribbled down the side of her lip and past her ear. Her eyes were distant, but still open and searching. "I love you, so much. I love you." He waited. Silence. "S-Say something, Tasha. Scold me, or hit me. Say that I'm stupid, and childish, and foolish. Be mad. Say that you're thinking of twenty ways to injure me with a paper clip right now. I need you to say something!"
With all the effort she could muster, she lifted a hand to cradle his cheek in her palm. He pressed into it, disliking the way it felt too cold, but needing it anyways. He watched the way the ends of her lips curled to form a wisp of a smile, and the way her eyes were - even if just a hint - content, and how her head rocked in a subtle shake.
And then he felt her hand drop. Her eyes rolled back into her head and her lids closed. Clint could feel the desperation crying out in his head in words. A wave of tears came again. He kissed her, again and again, and again, hoping deep down that she would wake up.
"Open your eyes. Open your eyes, Tasha. Please, open your eyes." He pleaded. He could feel the way he was at the end of his tether. His head hurt, his voice cracking and shaking like his hands and chest wracked with sobs. Her body was cold, and limp, lifeless in his arms. "You have to wake up! Open your eyes, please! You have to wake up! We have to go back together! Please, Tasha. I love you. Please, just open your eyes..."
All the breaths he held in, he breathed out into her neck as he embraced her, pulling her close. He mumbled words into her skin, pleading for something to happen. Open your eyes. He said, but her body felt colder, and he repeated her name. Wake up, Natasha. Let me see your eyes. Please. His pleads sounded like the pleads of a crying child. Helpless. Broken. Needy. He rested his head in the cranny between her shoulder and neck, feeling the hanging pull of her lax head.
He should have felt the drum a pulse, but felt so lost because he didn't. She slowly ceased to exist, and he couldn't feel her anymore. And it hurt so much that it burned in his chest, a yell so defeated and fractured that festered within him until he finally let it out on the empty street.
Clint left his fractured soul on the boulevard that day, littered with bodies they'd dropped, waiting for the both of them to be found. One dead, and the other, gone.
A/N: hey there! i hope you enjoyed this prompt one shot! this is honestly my first prompt story ever actually hahaha. give me some prompts that you want to see written in the reviews! (: it can be anything, like a song or a song lyric, a one word prompt or anything really! even a what if! hope to hear from you guys soon! (: xx.