Increasingly Painful and Incredibly Close

9.0

The paparazzi found them as they took the kids out for a day at the local mall. Pietro looked exasperated, looking annoyedly at the cameras. He knew how the outside world saw him. Pitiful, thin and wrapped in a purple blanket. He looked dead already, skin pale and eye bags potently contrasting his pale skin. The flannel he'd stolen from Clint was swallowing up his frail body.

They really just couldn't have a regular, relaxing day with the kids, huh? Clint groaned, pushing a microphone out of his face as the reporter asked "how long does Pietro Maximoff have to live?" and "when are you guys having the wedding?"

"I'm not answering shit right now. I'm trying to have a nice day with my fiance and kids. Just leave us the fuck alone." The archer huffed. He flipped off every camera he saw, getting between photographers and his love. His kids looked nervous, Cooper standing in front of a rather agressive journalist.

Pietro managed to catch the edge of Clint's jacket, tugging it with all his might to get the older's attention. When the other turned around, he mumbled softly. "Let's... just go."

"Okay, honey. C'mon kids, we'll find something else to do." Clint pushed through the crowd, heart breaking as he heard his lover start crying softly.

The crowd was too much, shouting invasive questions and taking pictures of him. He just wanted to curl up back at the tower, away from prying eyes. He was well aware how many pictures and videos of him would be circulating on every platform, everyone looking, talking, gossiping.

Eventually they found their way out to Clint's truck. The archer gently lifted his lover into the passenger seat, stroking his face and kissing him softly. Setting the portable ventilator just behind the center console, he went to go put the wheelchair in the bed of the truck while the kids piled in the backseat.

●●●

They arrived back, Kate meeting them in the lobby. She'd seen the shit blowing up on twitter and knew they'd need someone in their corner.

Pietro's eyes were rimmed red, cheeks blotchy and tearstained. Kate's heart sank. How could they be so heartless? To take advantage of such a sickly man and his family for what? Ad revenue? Likes on social media?

"Hey, guys. You want me to do anything?" She asked, placing a hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"Is ok." His voice was small, beyond weak and fried from the crying. "'m fine."

"Yeah, actually. Can you hang with Piet and let the kids hang out with Nat? I got some shit to go sort out." The archer's voice was low, harsh with anger.

The silver haired man did his best to grab his lover's shirt, movements too slow to catch it. "Clint..."

"Baby, I know. But I need to talk to some people about this, okay? It's going too far." Bow callused hands cupped his cheeks, tipping his head up for a kiss.

"Please... be safe." There was nothing Pietro could say to stop him. "Love you."

"I love you too, honey."

Kate took him upstairs to the floor he, Wanda, and his lover shared. She dropped the kids off with Natasha. "What can I do, man? I wanna help."

"Bed. 'm tired." Was his only response. He was drained, devoid of any jokes or witty remarks. He looked sicker than usual, weaker. Smaller. This must've been what it was like when he went through that depression Clint told her about.

She nodded, taking him to the bedroom. "Alright, dude. Let's got you comfortable."

She grunted as she lifted him. He couldn't be more than a hundred twenty pounds soaking wet, but it was his height that made it dificult. He was at least a good five inches taller than her. She heaved him up bridal style, trying her hardest to be gentle when laying him down. He groaned, eyes closing as she tucked him under plush blankets.

"You need anything else?"

"Nyet." His voice cracked.

She made sure the pillows were in order. "Do you want me to stay? I can-"

"Go, Kate."

The young archer hesitated. "Are you sure-"

"Go." His voice was thick, angry. "Please."

As she closed the door, she heard it. Faint sobbing, slurred swearing. She slid down the door, biting the sleeve of her hoodie to muffle the sound as she cried in solidarity. It wasn't fair. To him, to Clint, to his sister. The pain grew inside her as she listened to him break. She'd heard the stories of his hardships, of all the pain he'd gone through in his short, twenty eight years life. Far more pain than any one person would usually go through in their entire existence. But still, the universe fucked him one last time, robbing him slowly of everything that made him whole. It was too much for a person to bare.

She was pulled out of her spiraling thoughts by quick footsteps. Wanda was coming down the hall, pupils reflecting red. "You left him alone? Ty glupaya devochka! Move!"

She pushed passed Kate, flinging open the door to reveal her brother, who laid limply with blue tinged lips, a crackling sound emanating from his trach. She pulled the suction tool to her in a red glow, quickly deep suctioning him as he coughed and choked at the sensation. The color returned to his face after that, he stared despondently at the ceiling as his sister hugged him, cursing and yelling in their native tongue.

She scoffed as he spoke softly back to her.

"I'm- I- he told me to go, I'm sorry, I didn't know." Kate stuttered, fidgeting in the doorway.

The older woman yelled in a language the younger didn't speak. She took a breath, shuddering when she released it as she tried to calm down. "Now you know. Pietro is not to be alone, this can happen. If we didn't have this link-" she tapped her head. "It would've been worse."

"Wanda, stop." Pietro murmured. "You're... scaring her. Was my... fault."

He wheezed, eyes locked to Kate as he spoke. "Katie. Sorry for... scaring you."

Her chest tightened as she took in his state. He looked awful, all the fight having poured out of him. He was so tired, words so much more soft and slurred than usual. She could barely understand him. "It's okay, Pietro. Really."

"Am so... so tired." His eyes closed. Wanda combed through his hair, tears dripping down her cheeks.

She rubbed his chest soothingly, humming. "Rest, brother. Ya prismotryu za toboy."

Kate sat on the floor, head in her hands. After a few minutes, she looked up. "Should we call Clint?"

"Not now." The younger twin shook her head. "He does this. Tries to push everyone away when he's struggling. Has ever since we were kids, since the bombs." She sniffed. "He'll be fine after he sleeps it off."