a/n: okay i can assure you i did not do this on purpose. i hadn't even meant to write a clintasha fic yet but it's for this montage thingy in my school... oh well anyway... i would really love it if you could review otherwise that's okay (:
There is a silence that screams in his ears. An emptiness, so hollow, it seeps into his thoughts and infiltrates his mind. A whisper of pain across his cheek.
He smiles, just slightly. It is in his endless eyes.
He drifts off to sleep. When he wakes again the world will be blinding and nothing will have changed.
It hasn't been dreamless slumber, but for the first time in days - or nights, rather, there hasn't been screaming, pain, tears, and red drops everywhere.
He opens his eyes, and they are bleary. Dazed, he walks to the bathroom and washes his face, trying to wake.
(Leaving no tear tracks behind.)
He goes to the kitchen and she is there, sitting on the chair.
Morning, Clint.
She is fragile. The slightest movement will make her shatter. Sadness hangs in the air, because she is not real.
He wants to call out to her, like he used to be able to do before. He wants to hold her in his arms and they will laugh and laugh and laugh together and the world outside will be faraway, forgotten.
But that shred of memory is all that is left of the girl he loves.
She stands up and walks towards him, her eyes desperately sad.
I've missed you.
For a moment, he feels her arms on his chest. He can feel the intense longing and desire reflecting in her.
It is driving him insane. Everything.
The phone rings, the silence is broken. She disappears, just like that. A blink, and she is gone. He glances around again, but the illusion doesn't return.
Another ring of the doorbell. This time, he answers it.
"Clint. How is it?"
It's Tony.
"Yes," he says, finally speaking. His voice isn't familiar to himself; it is hoarse. It is nothing like his usual light-hearted tone. The one he doesn't remember.
He doesn't remember.
Tony continues talking. Clint can't hear a word he's saying. He closes his eyes, and a tear rolls down his cheek, uninvited.
"Clint?"
He composes himself before answering. "Yes?"
"Are you alright?"
There is a slight pause before he answers. "No."
"Is it... Natasha?"
"Partially." He doesn't say more, but he knows Tony understands.
"I can help," he offers, but Clint rejects him.
He puts the phone down.
He breaks, just that easily. His life fades.
Why? he screams. Why me?
The past five years of his life has gone, just like that. And he doesn't remember any of it.
Do you know what it's like to be unmade?
You know I do.
But you don't know what it's like to wake up one day realizing you're five years ahead since you last remember, and a stranger has lived your life before you?
And since then, that one person you love has died?
There is a silence that screams in his ears. An emptiness, so hollow, it seeps into his thoughts and infiltrates his mind. A whisper of pain across his cheek.
He smiles, just slightly. It is in his endless eyes.
He drifts off to sleep. When he wakes again the world will be blinding and nothing will have changed.
He still won't remember.
