Heteronormativity
It’s been a week since Wanda’s spoken to you and you do not want to wake up. At all. With a heavy sigh, you slam your hand against your piercing alarm. It doesn’t turn off because of course things just never go your way, so you grab it and angrily throw it against your door. It finally stops ringing. And this is why you use an alarm clock instead of your phone. You can afford an alarm clock every week, but buying a new phone once a week…well, your bank account would take a hit.
This is not your average day. You wake up angrily, feet stomping down hard against the yoga mat. You stretch down and your back clicks badly, making you groan out, leaning back up only to hunch over in pain with a hand on your lower back.
“My back.” You croak out, plopping down onto your mat and laying on your side, almost in a ball. “Shit, man.” You twist and turn to try and crack or undo the knot but ultimately fail. Fuck it. You stand on your feet with a loud groan, forcing your back upright until it finally cracks and you let out a relieved sigh. This is already a bad day and it gets even worse when you see that you’ve somehow run out of toothpaste. “Mouthwash it is.” You mutter annoyedly, rinsing your mouth and glaring at yourself in the mirror. God, you look like you haven’t slept for a week. The bags under your eyes are more prominent than ever, making your eyes look even darker.
By the time you’re dressed and ready, you end up biting into your breakfast - peanut butter and jelly sandwich because apparently, you have nothing left in the fridge - only for the red jelly to squirt out, plopping on your white shirt. Loki wags his tail, strolling back and forth on the kitchen island. Is he mocking you? He’s definitely mocking you. Dropping the plate on the counter, it clatters as you march to your room to change your shirt. This is not your average day; this is so much worse.
“Woah. Who died?” Darcy asks you the second she sees you dragging your feet through to your office. You ignore her words, careful not to slam the fragile glass door behind you. You plop down on your chair and rest your elbow on the arm of the chair, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of your nose. Your head is pounding, your mouth is dry, and your stomach hurts. Let’s not get started on your damn back. Darcy walks in anyway, despite you closing the door. She approaches your desk cautiously, her hands clasped behind her back. “Close relative? Distant relative?” She guesses as you sigh, giving her a tight smile that screams ‘LEAVE ME ALONE’. “Sorry. I just figured with the all-black fit and your…very obvious drop in mood. You're a pessimist but never just a straight-up cynic. You look like there’s a permanent cloud raining above you. Like-” You interrupt her with a frustrated inner groan, lips sealed to contain your annoyance. Clearing your throat, you turn to her with a professional expression.
“Miss Lewis. Can you cancel any meetings I have today?” Her shoulders slump a little but she nods anyway.
“May I ask why?” She asks curiously, waiting by the door. You spin your chair to look out at the view that looks far too gloomy today. It’s either the weather, or it’s you.
“Because if I have to sit through another meeting with an old white man telling me why he can do my job better, I think I’ll punch him in the face. And I don’t want to get fired today.” Your fingers grip the corners of the arms of your chair, knuckles turning white.
“Right. I’ll go ahead and cancel your meetings, Miss Y/L/N.” Darcy’s heels click as she steps back, but she stops once again, hesitating for a moment. “Whatever it is, I’m sorry. And I’m sure it’ll sort itself out. Life is funny like that.” She steps out of the room after giving you her advice.
Life is pretty funny. It’s all about wrong timings; right person wrong time, wrong person wrong time, wrong person right time. Will it sort itself out or will you keep going in circles, repeating the same day over and over again but doing absolutely nothing to change that? The moment you tried, it ended up being a total failure and now Wanda’s upset with you for whatever reason. Nothing comes to mind, no words you could have said to upset her, nothing you could have done to make her storm out of your apartment. Nothing. Zero, zilch, nada.
Digging your phone out of your blazer pocket, you check your notifications and throw it down on the table when you see nothing new. It only takes a couple more finger taps against the glass for you to grab your phone again, unlocking it and heading straight to your messages.
Loki’s Mother
i spilt jam on my shirt this morning. and i ran out of clean white shirts so i’m wearing all black and darcy thought someone died
i guess it was pretty funny. but i was a little mean i think. should i buy her lunch?
say yes if yes. ignore me if no
that was a joke. ofc i’m buying her lunch
You quadruple text her, having no patience to wait for a response, or the grey bubbles, or for ‘seen’ to ultimately make your heart drop in your chest. You get none of those, though. Just ‘delivered’ taunting you as you stare at your phone, eyes refusing to blink in case you miss the bubbles that would indicate she’s maybe hesitating, maybe wanting to speak to you as much as you want to speak to her.
Maybe you’re being childish. You’re well into your adulthood, the early thirties, and here you are texting like a desperate teen. With a frustrated sigh, embarrassed with your behaviour, you throw your phone back onto your desk. It lands on the pile of papers Darcy put on your desk that you should probably start working on. With the way you’re distracted, you don’t think you’ll make a dent. But you run a hand through your hair and sigh, getting on with it anyway. Maybe she’ll have texted you by the time you’re done.
She didn’t. Hours later, the sky darkened already and the night lights turned on, you’re still sitting in your office staring at your tidy, empty notifications. You’ve had a lot of coffee and your leg is bouncing from the caffeine, or the anxiety, panic, fear that Wanda’s really upset with you. Like, upset enough to never want to see you again. Because she said she’ll text you. She said it, and you texted her, and she still hasn’t even read it let alone responded to you. And it’s been a week. A week of unread messages, of you spamming her phone with confused apologies and stories about your day. You lock your phone and drop it down again. It dings suddenly and you scramble to pick it back up, accidentally hitting your hand against the glass edge of the table.
“Fuck!” You whisper-shout in pain, shaking your hand in pain and picking your phone up with the other. You’re met with a text from Rebekah of all people, covering Wanda’s eyes in the picture you have of her and the twins as your lock screen.
Rebekah Mikaelson
u home?
With a scoff, you type at the screen annoyedly.
Broody Biceps
no. office.
Rebekah Mikaelson
ok comin up !!
Broody Biceps
???
This is the absolute last thing you needed today. Hurriedly, you start packing your briefcase, almost spilling your half-empty coffee cup. The caffeine has clearly given you superpowers because there is no way your reflexes are normally fast enough to catch that cup mid-air. You’re so distracted by how cool that was that you don’t realise Rebekah’s reached your floor pretty quickly until you hear her heels clicking, echoing loudly. The floor is empty apart from you two, most of the lights turned off by now. It’s eerily quiet and you almost jump up when it looks like she appears out of thin air, coming out of the darkness into the light of your office.
“Christ.” You mumble, clenching a hand against your chest. Her left eyebrow shoots up at your dramatic reaction. With a roll of her eyes, she strolls into your office and sits down on the seat across from you. Her long legs cross over each other probably in an attempt to divert your attention there, but you keep your gaze locked on her narrowed eyes. “If you’re here to threaten to have me fired, please can we do this another day?” Rebekah only watches you, scanning your features carefully like she’s trying to get inside your head. Her intense eyes make you shift uncomfortably, clearing your throat and tapping your fingers on your knees.
“I wanted to apologise.” She says under her breath, but loud enough for you to hear. You take this opportunity to feign confusion though.
“Huh? Speak up.” You lean forward as she leans back, rolling her eyes at you and throwing her head back as she groans in annoyance.
“I’m sorry, okay?” She finally apologies, avoiding your gaze as you smirk in victory and cross your arms over your chest. You’re honestly shocked that she’s even apologising. Generally speaking, you think those words have never come out of her mouth before.
“Go on.” You insist on her elaborating, annoying her more than she already is. But this is the best part of your day after waking up in the worst mood of your life. You’re going to soak this in as much as you can.
“The way I reacted the first time you…rejected me,” she pushes the word out like it pains her to say it, “was horrible. And the way I reacted last week was even worse. I’m sensitive.” She shrugs her shoulders. She shrugs her shoulders.
“You’re-You’re sensitive? That’s all you have to say about it?” You stutter out, leaning forward with your hands gripping the arms of your chair. She raises a brow, her expression screaming ‘duh?’.
“Yes?” She states in a question, rolling her eyes when you scoff and lean back, throwing your arms up in the air.
“Seriously?”
“Come on, I’m trying! Baby steps.” She defends herself as she hunches forward slightly, ruining her perfect posture against the back of the chair.
“Fine. Whatever.” You slump in your chair, defeated and already bored of this conversation. Whether she’s done this to clear her own conscience or just because it’s the right thing to do doesn’t really matter to you right now. All you care about is the fact that you’ve had a terrible week and your back hurts and your chest is tight every time you look at your phone waiting for Wanda’s name to light it up.
“It’s obvious you have a lot of stuff going on. I wouldn’t have come onto you if I knew you had this complicated thing. Whatever it is.” She grumbles, gesturing with her hand. What?
“Huh?” You splutter out, brows knitted together in confusion. She sizes you up with a knowing expression.
“Your ex?” Your eyes shut, pinching the bridge of your nose. Ex? You don’t have an ex.
“Who?” You ask, letting out a breathless laugh. Rebekah’s explanation has your eyes widening as you try not to laugh at how ridiculously she’s interpreted everything.
“The girl at your apartment? She’s clearly your ex. It’s obvious. Also, I don’t appreciate you dragging me into this jealous revenge sex thing you have-” She leans forward to scold you, but you interrupt her at the mention of sex. With Wanda. Your cheeks flush in…embarrassment? Well, you’re not entirely sure but you know you’re starting to feel hot at the thought of that.
“Woah, no. No, what? That’s Wanda. My best friend. Definitely not my ex.” You correct, nervously laughing. It wasn’t supposed to come out nervous but it did and you’re not sure why. This is funny, no? A funny mix-up. Rebekah simply twists her brows in sympathy, leaning forward.
“Oh, honey, you don’t have to lie to me. I’m not reporting you to HR; I put that past me.” She says in a condescending tone but at this rate, you think that’s just how she talks and she’s painfully unaware of it.
“Why would I lie? She’s my best friend, we’ve been best friends since we were kids in high school.” Wanda’s been your best friend for years. You took her in when she came to the US from Sokovia, fleeing war. While she was quiet and reserved, you saw this look of excitement in her eyes, of wonder and awe. And she quietly told you she’s been watching American shows and sitcoms for years and being here feels like she’s living in one.
“Right…I call bullshit. No ‘friend’ would look at you the way she did when she opened that door.” Rebekah scoffs, eyebrows wiggling up and down knowingly. But you roll your eyes and sigh. She knows nothing about you and Wanda. How could she have possibly deciphered all that from only a couple of seconds of interaction?
“Look, she’s going through a divorce right now. She’s been upset, obviously, so that’s just how she looks like half the time these days.” You’re referring to her looking upset by catching you and Rebekah almost kissing. She clearly was already upset and you hadn’t shown up at home to be there for her. That’s why she was teary. Right?
“No, it’s more than that. She looked at me like she wanted to rip my head off. She looked at you like…like you just broke her heart. And you? You dropped me in a millisecond when you saw her. I only saw you two for a minute and I’m telling you one or both of you definitely have feelings.” Rebekah sits back in victory as you slump in your chair in defeat. Your stare off into nothing, eyes unfocused as you’re suddenly flooded with hundreds of memories that no longer make sense.
“Feelings…” You mumble, going back to that night in college. She wanted to feel something. No, no, she was already with Vision then. It has to go far deeper than Wanda possibly wanting just a night of sex.
“Yeah. Well, I’m going home. Enjoy thinking about that all night.” She teases, laughing almost villainously as she stands and turns her back to you.
“You’re actually a-” You groan out and she finishes your sentence for you, looking over her shoulder.
“Bitch. I know. Bye!” She walks out of your office, heels clicking, elevator dinging, doors closing. This is too much for you to try and process and Rebekah has probably said all of that just to make you overthink. Right? You pull your phone out to text Wanda one last time in the hopes that she’ll finally talk to you.
Loki’s Mother
can we talk? i’m really confused right now and i need you
The grey bubbles appear as the ‘delivered’ turns into ‘seen’. Your heart clenches in your chest, refusing to beat while you wait for her response. A few seconds pass and turn into a minute, which turns into another two, five, and your eyes start hurting from their refusal to blink. Until the grey bubble disappears. With a sigh that comes out shaky, you lock your phone and shove it into your pocket. Wanda’s made her decision and you’re not one to beg.
Friday night is usually the night the jocks throw a party. You’re usually invited, but Wanda isn’t. Despite being associated with you - and you’re not popular you’d say, but you’re cool with everyone - she’s still regarded as an outsider. It’s always been hard for her to make friends; the only reason she opened up to you was because of your persistence and how unbelievably sweet you always were to her.
Wanda prefers to spend Friday night in her bedroom, sitting on the windowsill with a book in her hand. You showed up one night throwing stones at her window to gain her attention, tempting her to come down. Whether it was an impromptu drive to a new spot out of town, or pizza in the park, or just a walk to yours to spend the night watching cheesy movies giggling at the cliche tropes, Wanda was always eager to spend time with you. As much time as she possibly could. She’s missed a couple nights recently because Vision had become far needier than usual. They’re going off to different colleges and he’s insisting they can get through it together as long as they spend time strengthening what they have now.
This time it was Wanda showing up at your house, throwing pebbles. They don’t reach your window that’s too high up for her, but you hear them bit the bottom windows anyway and rush to yours with a surprised smile.
“What’re you doing?” You call out when you shove your window open, sticking your head out. Wanda looks up, cheeks flushed from the cold weather tonight.
“I missed you.” She confesses with a reserved smile that has your heart jumping. Rushing out of your room, slipping down the stairs with a groan, you manage to get to the front door in record time. Pulling the door open with a huff, you reveal yourself to Wanda, chest heaving as you catch your breath. “Did you really run to the door?” She snorts, wrapping her arms around your waist as yours drape over her shoulders and pull her in.
“Nope. Of course not.” You blatantly lie, waddling like penguins as you walk backwards into the house, keeping your arms locked around each other, giggling the way through. She kicks the door closed and looks up at you, chin pressing against your chest.
“Liar.” She rolls her ‘r’s, accent still unique and prominent, putting a smile on your face. Rolling your eyes, you grab her shoulders and spin her around, guiding her up the stairs.
“Yeah, yeah. Feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.” You complain with a pout as you follow her up the stairs. She giggles, looking over her shoulder for a moment.
“You see me every single day at school.” Well, she’s not wrong. But it’s different to see her in your bed, making herself cosy in your sheets. “What should we watch tonight?” Wanda asks when she plops down in your bed, spread out like a starfish. It takes you a while but you finally settle on a movie.
An hour into the movie, Wanda sighs heavily. It’s hard not to notice it when she’s laying her head on your shoulder, breathing against your skin as she sighs. But you ignore it anyway, paying attention to the movie. Popcorn crunches loudly as you shove a handful into your mouth. Wanda sighs again and this time you grab a handful and shove it against her mouth, keeping your eyes on the screen the entire time. When she gasps, you can’t help but snort, failing to contain your laughter.
“Asshole.” She mumbles, brushing the crushed pieces off her lips. You look down at her with an apologetic smile as she looks up at you with faux anger and narrowed eyes. It only takes a second for her brows to set perfectly, her bright eyes somehow still shining in the dark with no light but the TV. “This movie is funny. But sad.” She whispers, observing your expression to see if it changes.
“It’s not meant to be sad. That’s why it’s satire.” You explain, brushing her hair out of her face, hooking it behind her ear.
“If you…wanted to be with someone, would you come out to your parents? So you could be with her?” Wanda curiously asks, almost whispering the question under her breath.
It is something that’s been on your mind as of late, especially when your parents walked in on you and Wanda cuddling in your room. Your parents questioned you about it and the moment you saw fear and hostility in their eyes, you told them they were being ridiculous and you were straight as a ruler. Their obvious relief only added heaviness to your shoulders, but you learned to live with it.
While you may or may not have had a tiny crush on her when you first met her, you took your intense adoration for her as nothing but friendship, especially when Vision asked her out and she said yes. He was new too, his parents moving to the US from England for work. He was an outcast, and so was Wanda. He was shy, and she was reserved, and they were both drawn to each other for companionship, relating to the other’s struggles with ease. Three years later and they’re still together despite their dynamic never really changing, at least from what you’ve seen. They’re never really been affectionate at school, still somewhat shy and reserved other than the occasional hand-holding. It’s…cute, you guess. Totally cute.
“I don’t think I really want to be in a relationship.” You respond casually, turning your head to look back at the screen.
“Oh.” Wanda mutters under her breath, audibly swallowing the ball in her throat.
“Look, my mum and dad are basically always fighting, and I don’t have any siblings and it’s so…” You trail off, not really wanting to say the word because it makes it feel too real.
“Lonely?” Wanda finishes it off for you, her hand trailing to comfortably rub circles over your defined stomach. She somehow always puts you at ease, making it easy for you to just speak your mind, your heart, your soul. She knows it all.
“Yeah. Lonely. But my parents have each other and they’re still arguing. My dad’s always at work, my mum’s always sad and eating alone while the dinner she spent hours cooking for him turns cold. I just…I don’t like this heteronormative life that society has set out for everyone. It’s not for me. I don’t think I even want kids. What if they end up like me? Alone and with parents who hate this life and take it out on their kid? I don’t want that. I don’t wanna end up bitter like that.” You look up at the ceiling, tears swelling in your eyes. But you blink them away quickly because what? This is not a serious enough conversation for you to be crying over your sad home life.
“But…not every family is like that. Mine is-” Wanda starts, hope and determination glimmering in her eyes. But you interrupt with a half-smile.
“Perfect. Loving parents, loving twin brother. And I’m glad. I’m glad you get to have that and don’t feel, like, sad like I do. But I just think it’s really rare. Chances are I won’t find that perfect life.” Her nose crinkles at your words, resting her head back on your shoulder. Just when you think the conversation is over, she sighs again and lifts her head back up.
“You can still be in a relationship without the het-hetero what?” She stutters at the end, trying to think of the word you said.
“Heteronormative.” You smile as you say it for her. She nods her head in recognition, nibbling on her bottom lip nervously.
“Yes, that. Without that. You could just be with someone because you love spending time with them and…and want to kiss them and stuff.” The pitch of her voice drops when she reaches the end of her sentence, cheeks burning so bright you can see how flushed she is in the dark. She’s adorable.
“Kiss and stuff. God, you’re cute. You’ve been with your boyfriend for three years and you still get flustered when you mention that shit.” You tease her, fingers brushing against her cheek and pinching playfully. You expect her to flinch away but she leans into your touch instead, forcing your hand to open, palm resting on her hot cheek.
“Yeah.” She hums, eyes fluttering closed. “I guess I just really like y-him. When I think of…that, it just makes me feel things.” Her eyes open again, wider, flicking side to side to avoid your gaze.
“Totally. I get that.” You hum, looking back at the screen.
“You do?” Wanda shifts, leaning up, suddenly more interested in the conversation.
“Yeah, it’s just sex, right?” You dismiss, huffing out a breathless laugh. We all have needs, and intimacy is just one of those needs. Marriage and kids just seem like it wouldn’t work for you. Maybe deep down you’re scared of that. Scared of the responsibility, the commitment, scared you’ll do something wrong, scared your partner will get bored and only stay because of your kids. You don’t want a person who only tolerates you.
“Oh. Yeah. You really don’t want anything more than that?” Wanda asks one last time, something hidden in her voice. You look down at her, scanning her eyes to see what she may be hiding. But upon seeing nothing but curiosity and maybe a little vulnerability, you shrug it off.
“I just think all relationships either lead to marriage or heartbreak. And I don’t want either of those.” Wanda stays silent after your words, shifting until she’s sitting up against the headboard. Her arm brushes against yours but she shifts until it doesn’t. It makes you frown slightly, your heart dropping to your stomach just a little. The feeling confuses you but you just assume it’s shivers or goosebumps. Static or something, maybe. Until Wanda breaks the silence.
“Vis proposed to me.” She confesses, eyes stuck on the screen. Her lips stay in a thin line even when your head snaps to the side, looking at her with shock written all over your face.
“What?” You breathe out in a whisper, almost choking as you scoff. “Wait, seriously? Aren’t you guys going to colleges, like, across the country from each other?” You sit up, no longer interested in the movie that’s become background noise during this whole conversation.
“Yeah, but he thinks we can make it work if we get married. That it will make us want to stay together and work harder…for us.” She says in an almost monotone voice. Your jaw snaps shut as your brows come together, slowly moving until you're parallel to her, back against the headboard too.
“Right. So…what did you say?” You ask, not sure why your heart’s pounding in your chest as you wait for her answer.
“That I’ll think about it. I just had to…I don’t know. Check something first.” She sighs, looking down at her ring-clad hands.
“Cool, cool. So, what’re you gonna say?” You clear your throat when it cracks slightly, cheeks flushed in embarrassment for a moment. The corner of her lip tilts up a little in amusement but ultimately goes back to her thin line.
“Yes. I think I’ll say yes.” She whispers, voice dropping as your heart does. Your hands turn into tight fists for a moment, your body stiffening before slumping altogether.
“Well, as long as you’re happy, I’m happy.” You tell her with a fake smile and she gives one back before it drops, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes curiously.
“Are you?” She questions, seeing right through you. You’re happy. Right? This is what Wanda always wanted. A family like hers, a partner, husband to call her own. This is the life she’s wanted, and as long as she’s happy with it, then you are. That’s how best friends feel about each other. Totally. Not jealous that she’ll probably be away from you for longer. That she’ll spend all her time with him, with her future family, isolating you until your friendship is too far gone to be revived.
“I’ll be fine. I can spoil your kids and shit. You love me, so they will.” You tease, smiling widely when she looks up at you with nothing but honesty in her eyes.
“I do.” She whispers. It’s enough to give you hope that maybe she won’t isolate you. Maybe she wants you to be there with her, with her kids, embedded into her family. You know you’ll always have her.
“I love you too, Princess Belle.” You playfully wiggle your brows, bumping your shoulder with hers.
“I still do not understand how you came to that nickname.” She sighs, pushing you down until you’re laying on the bed. She follows suit, dropping her head on your shoulder again. Your hands lazily twist her locks, curling them around your fingers.
“Well, you’re pretty. Like a princess. Prettier than a princess, in fact. And Princess Belle reads a lot of books and loves libraries. And so do you.” You simply explain. It’s a pretty simple conclusion, a very easy thing for you to have noticed. The resemblance is uncanny - character-wise, you suppose, more than looks considering she’s far more beautiful than any of the princesses you’ve seen on TV.
“And who’s the Beast?” She asks, fingers gripping your shirt.
“Well, have you seen these guns? I’m a beast.” You flex your arm out, a cocky smirk on your face. Wanda rolls her eyes at you, slapping your stomach and sighing. She just wishes you were her beast.
Waking up from your impromptu Saturday nap with a gasp, you take a deep breath, shaking your head at the memory. That’s not how you remember that usually. That’s not how you remember most of your memories with Wanda. Have you really been this blind to what’s been in front of you all this time? This won’t be your average day. You won’t allow it to be. Not anymore.