widow angst abt not loving sombra but also maybe loving sombra, going in circles and circles like a lil caged animal, fucked up tenses and incoherent half thoughts bc its almost 4am i wrote this in 30min
Widow doesn’t know, sometimes, what to do with choices. She’s hardly had to make any since she became who she is. But Sombra always demands that she make them: choose the restaurant they’re ordering from, pick which car to jack, do you want to go on a date?
With most of her emotions, few of them as they are, she doesn’t know what to do with. Doesn’t know if she wants them. Sombra wants her to know and, that, she knows she dislikes. But she likes Sombra, so she puts up with it.
Sombra is demanding in this way. If it were anyone else, Widow would have shot them by now, for being so presumptuous, for the arrogance, the selfishness, to ask this of Widow.
But Sombra’s Sombra and not many people like Widow, so she has to hold on to those who do. Or she doesn’t. Many people like Widow. She’s pretty, she knows. She flaunts it, after all, to get what she wants sometimes. Those people, Widow wouldn’t think twice about killing.
Sombra is different because she actually gives a damn. Sombra thinks she loves Widow which is something they have argued about a few times—always, Widow lets the matter rest once she has said her piece, because Sombra can be stubborn when she wants to be, can outwait Widow when she wants to.
Sombra’s special like that. She’s silly, idiotic, callous, but underneath it all, she’s still the most independently capable, motivated, and intelligent person Widow knows. She’s entirely self-made, entirely in control. And she hides it all behind being a cheeky shit because it’s the smart thing to do and Sombra is so smart.
Being with her makes Widow feel powerful. At night, when Sombra’s curled up against Widow’s side, Widow will brush her ridiculous purple hair out of her face, trace the curve of her forehead, and think about how the brain encased in Sombra’s hard head can, and in fact has, toppled small countries on its own. And this very brain thinks it loves Widow.
Widow isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth—usually.
It’s a matter of practicality, really. Sure, she’s not who she used to be and physically can’t process emotions the way regular people can. But she’s not dumb; she knows how relationships work. She was married, for God’s sake.
She knows, logically, it’s about communication and honesty, and reciprocation. Otherwise, it’s just leeching. It’s being deadweight.
Widow can force communication and honesty out of herself. Those are things that are within her capabilities. The necessary skills and traits are useful to Talon, so she has them. Reciprocation is a different story. Reciprocation is difficult.
She likes Sombra, so she will make a conscious effort to keep her around. Sombra tells her that this is what love is.
Widow agrees and disagrees. Of course, she cares for Sombra’s wellbeing, but she cares about Akande and Gabriel, too. She would never claim she loves them, not in the way she might with Sombra.
That’s another thing: uncertainty. She is certain she doesn’t love other people. She isn’t so sure with Sombra.
Sombra can be very convincing, if she puts the effort in—coercion is her whole schtick, anyway—and this Widow also likes and hates. They’ve done a bunch of new and exciting things together, and most of it, Sombra had talked Widow into. Widow values those experiences.
But Sombra also talks Widow into things she’s not so enthusiastic about. Submitting a form to Talon declaring their relationship? Thinking about that day makes her want to murder someone. So awkward.
Sombra also talks Widow into thinking she might love Sombra back. And that’s good if she does, and astronomically bad if she doesn’t. Because honesty. Widow doesn’t lie to Sombra often. Sombra doesn’t care if Widow lies about work since she could find out if she really wanted to but, out of all Talon personnel, she is the farthest from a Talon loyalist and couldn’t give less of a damn about its goals.
Otherwise, though, Widow doesn’t hide much from Sombra. Maybe if Sombra makes Widow feel vaguely embarrassed about something, Widow will try to hide it just to save face, but Sombra sees through that like glass and Sombra almost never means to make Widow feel like that, never maliciously. So, it makes it okay. It does.
Widow can’t say the same.
Other people’s misfortune, especially brought about by her own hand, makes her happy. Makes her feel powerful. She can’t help it if an impulse to be cruel seizes her. It doesn’t come up with Sombra except when she feels cornered and that’s when she feels uncertain and out of her element.
Sombra is excellent at provoking those feelings. Again, Widow doesn’t experience feelings the way Sombra does, so it’s okay sometimes. Only sometimes.
The first time Sombra had said she loved Widow, Widow had called her stupid and left her in the cold. And Widow knew, immediately, that it hurt Sombra.
She knew it would be best for the health of their relationship if she apologized and explained herself, but there wasn’t a strong desire to do that, so she had left it until Sombra came and gave Widow a piece of her mind. After that, Widow had indeed explained, slowly, off kilter, mildly irritated.
It’s a mess. Widow doesn’t mind a mess but it’s not good for relationships and Widow wants to maintain this one. Wants to clean it up, knows which tools to use to do so, knows how to use those tools. Doesn’t, in the end, have access to some of them.
Sombra must know this. Sombra does know this.
Still, Sombra insists on telling Widow she loves her.
Widow can’t stand it.
Widow tries to stand it.
“That’s love, Spider.”
Widow scoffs at the thought.
When she was young, her parents got her a fish and Widow had tried to take care of it and failed spectacularly. The fish had died within two days. Trying isn’t sufficient.
She hardly succeeds, with Sombra.
She can do the easy things, the small things that don’t inspire feelings of triumph from Widow. If Sombra wants to be held, Widow will do it. If Sombra wants a sounding board, Widow will get comfortable. If Sombra wants to fuck with Gabriel, Widow won’t snitch.
She fails, however, if Sombra needs anything close to emotional literacy. Sombra isn’t perfect either, she knows. She is painfully aware.
Sombra is presumptuous and arrogant. Sombra asks for too much. She doesn’t care about Talon, and Talon is the reason for Widow’s existence. She makes everything a joke, just under half of which fly over Widow’s head. Flaunts what she has and what is wholly unattainable for Widow.
It feels like a test of Widow’s compliance. Endurance, really. Certainly not love.
“Love can be about endurance.”
It can. Widow knows all these things could count. Should count, considering. But she wants to do better, be better. And she also doesn’t because she can’t and it’s unfair that she should be unhappy with herself for something she cannot fundamentally change.
She’s a bit resentful. She’s a bit tired. She’s a bit unhappy and a bit apathetic about all those things. Never a lot of anything. So, relatively speaking, it’s significant that she feels this way.
But then, full circle, it’s about endurance. She will endure those feelings. For Sombra.
Sombra who endures, always. Whose entire life has been about endurance. Does it as easily as breathing. Sombra is strong and smart, and those aren’t things Widow inherently likes about Sombra.
Widow likes the way those qualities make her life better. Sombra solves problems and does things for her.
If she loves Sombra, then it would be because Sombra loved her first. Does it the best because no one else loves Widow and there’s no competition, really.
And is that fucked up? Is that wrong?
Should she care? Liking someone because they like you doesn’t exactly measure up to terrorizing entire peoples, which she does for almost no money or other benefits other than her own enjoyment and a few more hours with Sombra which, again, is also for her own enjoyment.
Widow looks down at Sombra and thinks in cycles.
Her eyes are closed and she’s snoring, head in Widow’s lap. Widow cards her fingers through Sombra’s hair and feels heady with power.
If Widow could be a better person, she wouldn’t want to be, she doesn’t think. Except when it comes to Sombra. Because if Widow could love Sombra back, she would.