Clint sat on his bed, hugging his knees to his chest, seeking comfort in the corner between the head of the bed and the cold wall. The room was dark. He grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, frowning with anger. He tried to channel all his feelings into one emotion, anger. Anger was easy to deal with, easier than loss, or rejection, or hurt, or sadness, or love. Anger could be banished with the released of an arrow. Fired into someone else and burned away until all that's left of its existence is turned to ashes, all evidence cleared away.
His body shuddered with feelings he only tried harder to suppress. He'd never be good enough for anyone. Not even those who died at his hands appreciated the respect and elegance with which he took their lives.
He growled and shot an arrow at the door, making it lodge deep into the wood. The feathered end lit up with a calm, orange flame. He watched the flame, mesmerized for a short time before tossing his bow to the floor. It clattered across the floorboards before hitting the opposite wall and coming to a stop.
He ground his teeth in an attempt to force away things he didn't want to feel. Only one person in the world would be willing to help him, hold him, and he'd pushed that person away further than anyone.
His mind raced. His heart pounded. His throat ached with sobs that didn't come. His eyes burned with the threat of tears. Voices, memories, disasters, replaying themselves over and over in his mind, tormenting him and reminding him of everything he couldn't achieve.
The door opened slightly; light flooding the room and making him wince. A silhouetted figure stood in the doorway for a moment before stepping in and removing the arrow that was still there.
The door closed, once again encasing the room in darkness. The figure walked towards the bed blowing out the flame on their way. They picked up his bow and placed it on the foot of the bed before moving towards him.
They sat next to Clint, putting their arm around him and holding him tightly. Large warm tears rolled down his cheeks, left to fall off his jawline. Every emotion came rushing to the surface, like the walls of a dam had been knocked down and there was nothing left to hold them back.
He'll be OK now.
A/N: Who was Clint's savior? It could have been anyone...that's up to you! If you have any appraisals, criticisms, suggestions, requests, problems, corrections, anything, just let me know and I'll be sure to take it into consideration.