The saddest thing in the world was happening right now.
Clint had essentially nothing left and was clinging to the hope that Bruce knew. That Bruce remembered everything thing they had went through...everything they had done. There was a point in his life in Arkham that Clint honestly believed his heart was too small to endure so much love that he was getting. From Phil. From Kenzi. From Bruce. He clung onto that at night when he was traveling in some of the worst conditions he had ever allowed himself to endure. This time it hadn't been because of a nation. An initiative or ideal. It had just been because of a man that he loved almost as much as he loved Phil Coulson. A friend. One of the better friends he had ever had in the world -- even compared to his partner. They talked. They laughed. They flirted. Clint saw nothing wrong with that because it was a level of friendship that he never questioned in his life because he never thought he would have it in his life. Then he did...and then it was gone.
It was inevitable for Bruce to draw in on himself. It was a defense mechanism. Clint did everything not to just cling on the man and tell him don't leave him. Plead for him not to run away because he was just too tired to chase after him anymore. "Kenzi...my best friend. I--I miss her so much. I miss her more than I missed Tasha when she died...the way she died." Clint could still remember it. He wanted to pull Bruce back towards him. "'n Phil...'n us. I know how much I loved him...how much I felt 'bout you. No one remembers back in New York. No one. I have no one, Bruce."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2012-09-09 05:34 am (UTC)Clint had essentially nothing left and was clinging to the hope that Bruce knew. That Bruce remembered everything thing they had went through...everything they had done. There was a point in his life in Arkham that Clint honestly believed his heart was too small to endure so much love that he was getting. From Phil. From Kenzi. From Bruce. He clung onto that at night when he was traveling in some of the worst conditions he had ever allowed himself to endure. This time it hadn't been because of a nation. An initiative or ideal. It had just been because of a man that he loved almost as much as he loved Phil Coulson. A friend. One of the better friends he had ever had in the world -- even compared to his partner. They talked. They laughed. They flirted. Clint saw nothing wrong with that because it was a level of friendship that he never questioned in his life because he never thought he would have it in his life. Then he did...and then it was gone.
It was inevitable for Bruce to draw in on himself. It was a defense mechanism. Clint did everything not to just cling on the man and tell him don't leave him. Plead for him not to run away because he was just too tired to chase after him anymore. "Kenzi...my best friend. I--I miss her so much. I miss her more than I missed Tasha when she died...the way she died." Clint could still remember it. He wanted to pull Bruce back towards him. "'n Phil...'n us. I know how much I loved him...how much I felt 'bout you. No one remembers back in New York. No one. I have no one, Bruce."