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“She said I was moral to a fault and you can be impulsive, headstrong. We’re fucking different but we’re still two superheroes who’d die for each other. In any era, any alternate universe. Like Captain America and the Winter Soldier.” My chest rises against his, and I whisper, “I can believe that.”
You don’t know that I used to cry myself to sleep at nine-years-old. Hearing bad shit about my family. About myself. Wondering what the fuck was real. I was a happy kid, but there were hours, days, weeks where I used to think every cruel, heartless bastard would break the people I loved.
“I guess friends isn’t in the fucking cards for us, huh?” And I have to accept this. “Non, il te suffit de m’attendre,” Charlie says in a perfect French lilt. No, you just need to wait for me. “De quelle manière?” I breathe. In what way? “To be strong enough to be near you and not hate everything about you and me.” I’m fucking terrible at waiting around. Doing nothing. He knows this. You know this. But for Charlie, I’d try. If he needs me to be patient, I’ll do that a million times over. I nod strongly. “Okay.”
I’m done trying to prove anything to anyone. Even you. I am who I fucking am, and the truth will always be that I wish I could’ve done more. But I’m finally satisfied with the fact that I’ve given all that I can. Even if you can’t see it or refuse to believe it.
Because Maximoff is my son, and I want to be the kind of mother who’s strong enough to stand up for him and protect him.” She nods resolutely. “I didn’t cower, and I’m proud of that.” You’ve always been that kind of mom, I want to say, but I inhale a tight breath, having no goddamn clue where this is going. But my dad sends me sharp looks to let them talk.