A Different Point of View
Johnny Storm watched as his new best friend staggered towards him. Darcy had called him ten minutes ago, asking if he was busy. It was the tone of her voice that made his heart lurched. She sounded like she had been crying earlier and Johnny didn’t like sad Darcy. He mustered a small smile as she buried her face in his chest. If this were any other girl, he’d make a flirty comment that may lead to a one-night stand in his bedroom upstairs. But this was Darcy. The Darcy Lewis who was not apologetic when she told him Richard was a dick. The woman who was not afraid to call him out on his shitty behaviors (he was drunk and it was one time). So he did what he thought a good best friend would do. He wrapped his arms around her smaller body. She was warm and he almost let out a content sigh when he held her tighter.
“Better?” He asked after a while. They must’ve looked ridiculous right now. Two people hugging each other in front of a house. He found himself not caring about what people might think. This is Darcy after all. His Darcy.
“Yeah. A lot better.” Darcy wiped a tear from her eyes and looked up to see his face. “Sorry. It’s been one hell of a night.”
And you’re the only one that could make me feel better. The hanging sentence didn’t escape his attention. His lips curved into a huge smile. So this is why people have best friends. This is why people are willing to sacrifice things for their loved ones. Even the biting cold could not freeze the warmth emanating from his heart.
“Wanna stay over?” He asked her. He knew she was staring at his face to find any motives behind his invitation. She gave him a small nod and her cheeks flushed a little. Johnny had to stop himself from kissing her cheeks when he saw it.
“Come on. We can steal Richard’s expensive booze and you can talk about your feelings.” He took her hand and led her inside. She gave him another breathtaking smile and Johnny made a mental note to never take it for granted.
* * *
Bucky thought he was having a nightmare. It wasn’t until he wondered why Steve and Nat didn’t barged into his room that he realized he wasn’t the one who has been screaming. He blinked his eyes a couple of times and jumped out of the bed. He scrambled to grab a T-shirt before he made his way out of the bedroom. He saw Clint closed the door behind him and gave him a surprised look. He wasn’t the only one who thought he was having a nightmare.
“Who—“ Clint’s question was cut by a loud whimpering sound from the room next to Bucky’s. The door was slightly ajar and Bucky could hear Natasha’s unmistakable Russian from Wanda’s room.
“Nat?” He mumbled as he pushed open the door, wondering if he was even allowed to enter the room.
“Wake up, Wanda. Come on. Bucky’s here.” Natasha kept saying in Russian. Wanda was still thrashing on her bed, whimpering something in Sokovian. Wanda had told him it was similar to Russian. He thought he heard something along the lines of ‘sorry’ and ‘didn’t mean it’.
He was all too familiar with nightmares but it unnerved him a little to be in this position. Usually, he was the one having nightmares and Natasha or Steve were the one standing next to his bed, whispering comforting words and lullabies to his ears. Natasha looked like she was going to burst into tears when Wanda begged for her life. So Bucky made his way towards the edge of the bed and kneeled next to Natasha, trying to do what his best friends usually do.
“Wanda. Wake up, doll. It’s just a dream.” His voice was soft and gentle and Bucky’s lips twitched upward when Wanda knitted her eyebrows and stopped thrashing.
“Come on.” He coaxed her. It took him a few minutes until Wanda finally opened her eyes. He gently wiped the tears with his right thumb and gave her a comforting smile. “Hey. You did it.” He saw Natasha smiled and left the room from his peripheral view when Wanda mumbled his name.
* * *
He came again. Was she dreaming? She looked at her reflection on the little mirror. She was still the eleven years old girl with ponytails. She could hear the sound of their mother downstairs. She was crying again. Their father, she seethed at the word, was saying something in a hushed voice, followed by a loud crashing noise. The sound woke Pietro and he stared at her in fear.
“He’s here again.”
“Yes.” Wanda nodded. She climbed down from her bed and quietly crept out. She needed to save their mother. She was weak but Wanda was not. Pietro let out a silent curse as he followed her.
Everyone always said that their father was the kindest man alive. No one ever saw what their father did behind the doors. Their mother was always good with make up and fake smiles. But Wanda was not a fool. She gritted her teeth when he walked over to them and his hand smacked her cheek, sending her to the wooden floor.
“YOU LITTLE BITCH!” She wondered if she did anything that pissed him off today. Her eyes widened in realization when he threw a piece of paper at her face. She had told her teacher earlier about his abusive behavior. Did she cause this? She looked at him in fear.
“Stay away from her!” Pietro shouted and threw the night lamp at their father. It hit his shoulder and Wanda let out a shrilling scream when he flung Pietro to a wall, knocking him unconscious. She looked away from Pietro’s bleeding temple and cried when her mother’s lifeless eyes stared back at her from the other side of the room.
“No. Mommy.” She whispered. She crawled towards her and shook her body. “Mommy wake up.”
“Get back here!” Their father bellowed. “I need to teach you a lesson.” She could hear the sound of his belt and she did what the girl on the TV does when someone was about to hurt her. She ran to the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife from the drawer.
“Get away from me!” She screamed. Her voice was drowned by his malicious laughter. She couldn’t remember what she did next. She only remembered holding a bloody knife and staring at their father’s body on the floor, blood soaking her newly bought socks. Oh no. What has she done?
“… doll.” She sharply turned her head. She recognized that voice. It was calming, unlike their father’s. She waddled out of the kitchen, trying her best not to step on the rug their mother bought the other day.
“-dream… come on.” She frowned. Who is that? She closed her eyes and crouched down. She covered her ears with her tiny hands and begged for someone to save them.
Wanda gasped for air as she opened her eyes. She was unfocused, her eyes darting around the room, trying to make sure she was no longer in Sokovia. Then she saw him. James. He was smiling at her and wiping her tears away from her cheeks. She shakily reached out to him. Bucky was more than willing to open his arms and pulled her close. She shuddered at the sudden warmth. It was over. It was just a dream. A bad memory. She repeated in her head until she was too tired to think. Bucky rubbed her back as he whispered something to her. She felt his lips on her forehead and she let out a small sigh.