My contribution to Bruce week! I love my boy, so here he is. Loosely based off of the prompt 'quiet strength'. Not beta read, I appreciate any feedback. 💕
Some days, Bruce finds it hard to talk.
Some days it feels like the weight of the world is resting in his lungs and there is a Boa-Constrictor wrapped around his voice box.
Some days his mind is made of cotton wool, and thoughts buzz with white noise, and his lips are made of lead, too stiff to move.
Some days it feels like the blink of an eyelid or a single footstep could send him over the edge. Like everything is clouding around him and all he can hear is his mind whirring and his anxiety screaming over and over, a lifetime of screams.
Living with the Avengers doesn't help on these days. There are times where he just wants to run away again, because everything is buzzing, and the LEDs are too bright and Thor is just, too loud.
Bruce knows he should tell them. He knows that if he told them, things would change at the drop of a hat. Tony would dim the lights, and Thor would try to be quieter, and Steve would let up on his booming post-workout motivational speeches. He knows they all care. But it's hard.
He wants desperately for things on these days to change, but its extraordinarily hard to communicate when it hurts to blink, and talking feels like it would bring on the oncoming storm. So he waits. Waits until he's okay again. Then he'll tell them.
Except, when he's okay again, Bruce can never quite bring himself to tell them. He forgets what it's like on the bad days and decides that the noise isn't quite that bad.
(Of course, then he has another bad day and isn't that just a vicious cycle?)
Other days, it starts out fine. He sits with his tea, trading easy humor with Tony, and he can breathe. There's no pain or hesitation, and he can just talk.
But then someone will start to yell or put their hand down too heavily or slam the door or break a glass, and he's back in the bad place, and he is silent and submissive.
The noise causes a distraction that Bruce can easily slip away in, leaving the others only to wonder where he wandered off to now.
The only person who would understand, he thinks, might be Clint. He's seen Clint flinch at loud sudden noises, and those shoddy Shield-issue hearing aids can't be much of a help. From what he can gleam from random conversations, they have similar backgrounds - as much as he wished they didn't.
Sometimes he thinks about letting it all out; finally talking everything through, to Clint, to Tony, to Thor, Steve, Natasha, Hell even Pepper. He thinks about how he could finally release himself from the tight-fisted hand of his childhood, and let his demons go. His teammates wouldn't mind at all, he knows they wouldn't, but he just... Can't.
It's awkward when they have 'team bonding nights' where everyone will go round and tell tall tales of their escapades, while Bruce stammers out the same story of some kid he helped in India.
They all fuss and tell him not to be so shy; to brag about what he's done, but he's not shy. It's just hard. He could talk the ear off an elephant on a good day. But today it's hard. He's worked so much and come so far. But sometimes it's hard.
And that's okay. It's never going to stop being hard, but the hard days come less, and the good days will become normal days. Wishing away the time won't help, so for now he is quiet. For now, he is brave.
