Forgetful (part 3)
Word Count: 1,633
Reader Gender: Female I guess idk
Warnings: Hospital, reader injuries
Love Interest: Pietro Maximoff
Note: This might bring a close to the Forgetful series, but idk ‘causeI haven’t written it yet. I’ll write more here once I’ve finished writing this part see you in a jiffy.
It seems I have done a 50/50, but I felt like this was a solid ending.
The soft, steady beeping of the heart monitor gave Pietro comfort, yet it sent him into panic all the same. While the heart monitor gave a reassurance that she was still alive for the moment, it didn’t promise that she’d be alive in the future. So, here he sat for the past two weeks, sitting by her bedside. The only time he’d leave is when he’d need to use the restroom. He’d only eat when forced; which meant Wanda all but shoving food down his throat whenever she came to visit.
The rest of the team came to visit when they could, and while they worried for her, they also worried for Pietro. There were many mixed emotions going around the team; some blamed him, others felt bad. Tony was a main party in those that blamed Pietro, and he made sure to let Pietro know whenever he was in the vicinity. Bucky was on the fence on how to feel about Pietro, Bucky was more concerned about her well being than anything else. Steve was similar, but still harbored feelings of blame on Pietro.
Nat was beyond pissed at the both of them, but her anger for the figure in the hospital bed was matched by her endless worry. Clint would bring her cards every day, and they got a little more ridiculous as the days passed. Bruce was still missing, but he had sent her favourite flowers and a simple note that said ‘Don’t die, friend’. Thor came back down to check on things a few days ago, and was very distressed when he was told. Needless to say, Pietro got an earful from him.
Even without the entire team letting him know exactly how they felt, he was still in daily panic. Even more so than usual, there’s been 3 near-deaths in time she’s been here. Pietro completely blames himself for everything, and the weight of guilt keeps him from moving from his chair. Guilt and love, that’s what keeps him here. Some time ago he came to the conclusion that her being in the hospital is some twisted way of making him pay for what he did. That’s why he never argues when Tony goes off on him.
Between him losing himself in his guilt-ridden thoughts, and him crying his eyes out, he talks to her. The topic will vary occasionally, but it mainly stays with him either apologizing, making promises, begging for her to come back, or vocalizing memories. Right now he had his head in her blanketed lap, his hand in hers. They had, at one point, her hooked up to a breathing machine when she had first got here. To say that she had sustained severe injuries would be an understatement.
The doctor himself even said that it was a miracle that she was even still alive right now. There was injury to her organs, hips, ribs, neck, arms, and one of her legs. There was also a large portion of skin damaged on her back, and it’d still be a bit longer before that healed. Her neck was almost fully healed, as well as her arm. Today Tony was in the room along with Pietro, which had become a norm. Tony was with her almost as much as he was, the difference being that Tony wasn’t the one that put her in here.
“You did this, you know.” Tony said, beginning to start another argument.
“I am well aware.” Pietro clarified for the millionth time.
“Great, because I’m here to remind you. Think of me as you own personal alarm clock.” Tony said.
“Will do.” Pietro said with a sigh.
“Not like you have much of a choice here, anyway.” Tony said matter-of-factly.
“I realize this, Tony.” Pietro spoke, closing his eyes in frustration.
“You better, because she’s going to go off like a firecracker when she wakes up,” Tony continued, “Like the Fourth of July of doom.”
“Looking forward to it.” Pietro spoke, a little more passively this time.
“Will you two-ow-shut the-ow- fuck up-ow.” A familiar voice said, clearly irritated.
“Y/n!” Tony and Pietro said at the same time.
“Wow, can we not talk so loud, I have the world’s biggest headache.” Y/n said as Tony went to notify a nurse.
God, I’m gone for two seconds, and they’re already at each others throats. They’re both secretly children, I’m almost positive. Wait, why the fuck am I in this room? This is not my bedroom. This is not the Tower. This is not anywhere that I’m familiar, it’s too fucking white and bright to be any room that I’d ever go in. I looked down, now noticing that I had on a hospital gown on instead of my normal clothes.
I looked up, glaring at the person closest to me (and the only person in the room), Pietro. He, surprisingly, looked like the worst thing in the world. He had clearly not been sleeping properly, to say the least. His eyes were red, like he had just been crying. He was also holding one of my hands. another thing that I just noticed. I would’ve snatched it away, but the sight of a needle in my arm caught my attention instead.
“Don’t even think about it,” Pietro said immediately, covering the IV with his hand, “It’s suppossed to help you.”
“Oh yeah, sure, just like you helped me?” I questioned harshly, still glaring.
“I’m sorry.” Pietro said and my glare softened a bit.
“Yeah, well, sorry doesn’t get me out of this fucking hospital.” I stated simply.
Tony came back into the room, the doctor following shortly after. The doctor greeted me politely, but I just grumbled in response. I fucking hate hospitals, I want to stab someone. I huffed as the doctor started explaining everything, and small flashbacks of the incident began to pass through my mind. The sound of the glass shattering underneath me. The feeling of the tires rolling over my stomach.
The headlights of the vehicles burning holes into my eyes. My skin tearing on the metal of the vehicles. The sound of sirens that was barely audible to my ears. The sight of pure darkness, consuming me with blinding pain. The gentle, yet distressed, touch of a hand on my cheek. ‘Please, please, stay with me,’ rang through my mind. At the time, I didn’t know who it was, but now that I can think a bit clearer, it was obviously Pietro.
The doctor took his leave, telling me he’d be back soon with test results. Tony then announced that he was going to head to the Tower and tell everyone that I was awake and alive. Silence ensued between Pietro and I, neither of us bothering to say a word. For different reasons, I’m sure. I didn’t know what to say. Part of me wanted to scream, just for everything that’s happened. Another part of me just wanted to be hugged at the realization of me almost dying.
“Listen, I know you probably don’t even want to see me right now, but I’m so sorry, Y/n.” Pietro said.
“Hey-” I began.
“It’s all my fault, I know. If I hadn’t asked you to come and meet me, and if I hadn’t done what I did, you wouldn’t be like this.” Pietro continued, referencing my hospital-ridden state.
“Well-” I began again.
“And I know that me asking for forgiveness is selfish, and probably too soon, but I’m just glad that you’re okay.” Pietro said, and I raised my brows, “I mean, I know you’re not healed yet, but you don’t know how happy it made me to see you awake. You could’ve ended up in a permanent coma, or worse, because of me.” He continued.
“I know that this is karma getting back at me for what I did, but can you please forgive me?” Pietro asked again.
Well, if you’d let me talk, you big blue idiot.
“Sorry.” He apologized again.
Whoops, didn’t mean to say that one out loud.
I looked at him for a moment, seriously considering what he had said. He really did look awful, and remorse was very clear on his face. He looked like he’d simply die on the spot if I uttered the opposite. While I was still very angry at him, a small part of me wanted to forgive him. I don’t think we could go back to being a couple, at least not so soon. So, forgiveness at friend status is now up for debate.
I suppose I forgive him for putting me in here, it wasn’t directly his fault. It certainly wasn’t mine either, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay for me to just take it out on him. I sighed deeply, his grip on my hand tightening slightly. Maybe it’d be okay if we were just friends? Like, friends who met on the first day of school and are only talking to one another because they don’t know anybody else. It’s oddly specific, but there we go.
“Fine, but you’re never to speak to me again.” I stated simply.
“O-Oh, okay, that’s fine, I’m just really happy you forgave me.” He started, “I guess I’ll just go then, I’m sorry, I’ll get out of your hair-”
“Pietro, Pietro,” I began frantically, “I was just kidding.”
“Oh,” He sighed deeply, a little relieved.
“I forgive you, but I don’t think we can go back to what we were,” I began, “At least not so quickly, but we can be friends.”
“Thank you, thank you so much.” He said, and it appeared as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulder.
“You’re welcome,” I said, “Now get over here and give me a very platonic hug, reality hit me in the face like 10 minutes ago.”