New Number (Yelena x Reader)
Yelena Belova was not a crier. Not that she couldn’t cry, but more often than not if her body gave her the opportunity to stave off a fit, she would be taking it.
Now though? The tears were flowing rather freely. No sobs escaped her, no sound save for the light drags of air in through her nose and whistling into her lungs as she sniffled.
This wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair.
Why did she always have to lose the people she loved? Why couldn’t the universe just let her rest? It wasn’t fucking fair.
The slatted metal was cold against her back, almost biting, but she wasn’t shivering. She welcomed the sensation. It was enough for now to take the weight off her shoulders and replace it with the physical weight of the city’s winter air.
She came here every week. Same day, same time, always clockwork. It felt inadequate, that this was all that was left of her sister. Instead of meeting up every week for coffee or perhaps lunch, in a warm and cozy cafe, she was at a cemetery. Sitting on a cold bench. Completely alone.
Or at least, she was, until you had quite unceremoniously dropped your body down beside her on the opposite end.
Out of pure curiosity and her grief clouding her mind, she turned to look at you.
You had your own tears sliding down your face, however you were doing absolutely nothing to stop the small whimpers and tiny, sputtering gasps that ripped themselves from your throat.
Even if you were a complete stranger and she had zero obligation to speak to you, she found herself doing so anyway.
“I’m sorry.”
It felt so unbelievably sad. That that was all she could offer. Two words. Two words, trying to fill the void left behind in both your hearts by people who were loved, that didn’t get enough time to feel or show that love as deeply as could never really be achieved with life’s known span.
Apparently it didn’t matter, because you sniffled through a whispery, watery chuckle.
“Me too.” You replied.
Little did she know, but you were thinking the same about your own words that she had about hers.
It wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be.
“Who did you lose?” You asked.
She turned to you again, taking in your splotchy cheeks, reddened with sorrow and stained with tears.
“My sister.” She replied.
“I’m so fucking sorry, honey.” You said back, feeling as if those words were simply too comfortable in their brevity.
“I lost both my sisters, only a year ago now today. Car accident, I wasn’t with them.” You added.
Your face twisted into another pained grimace at the revelation, that clenching in your chest getting tighter as you remembered.
You couldn’t seem to stop what you said next.
“I was supposed to be though, to go out shopping with them. Gods, that seemed so trivial at the time. Who wants to go to a loud, crowded ass tin can filled to the brim with cranky people, right? But now? I’d give anything to have them drag me from store to store, to just… be with them one more time.”
Yelena knew exactly what you meant. How you felt. The same sentiments echoed in the chasm her own grief had brutally slashed into her heart.
“I know what you mean.” She echoed her thoughts. You chuckled sadly again before continuing.
“I shouldn’t even be sitting here with you. I should be out there, skating with my sisters by my side like we always did during winter. But instead I’m here. Whatever cosmic asshole out there that controls fate, has planted me on this stupid park bench, with a random stranger, and now I’m dumping all my feelings and trauma bonding with her.” You scoffed bitterly.
Yelena had only just known about her sister being gone for two months. It already felt longer than the year you’d spent without yours.
She didn’t know how you managed to even come here after so long. It already felt as if eternity was knocking at her door, mocking her pain and reminding her she’d never be without it now.
“Does it ever get easier?” She asked after a beat of silence.
You huffed a laugh that held no light.
“Tell you what, you give me your number, and I’ll text you when it does.” You said.
She stared at you now, searching your face for any hint of sarcasm or the bitter bite of words said purely out of hurt that held no possibility or intention of follow-through. She found only a genuine, and incredibly gentle, half smile adorning your saddened features.
Pulling out her phone, she gestured for yours too, and once she had your contacts list staring at her from her lap, her fingers flew over the keyboard and did just as you asked.