Imagine the rest of the Avengers cast finding out you’re a self-harmer.
It felt as if all of the air had been sucked out of the room. Vacuum-sealed. All sound had gone with it too, just a complete silence falling over the room. You felt that you couldn’t move. Couldn’t hide the scars that criss crossed your upper thighs. The still healing cuts from two days before, when you had been on your own, feeling overwhelmed and needed to gain some sort of control over yourself. It was bad enough that your castmates were seeing you in your underwear right now, but even worse that they were all looking right there. The mega-stars of your generation. Chris Evans, Chris Hemsworth, Mark Ruffalo, Jeremy Renner, Robert Downey Jr and Scarlett Johansson.
“What happened?” Chris Evans was the first one to ask, walking in. Of course it would be him. With his own anxiety problems, he could understand. But you saw in his eyes that he wanted you to say something like you were in an accident or - or mugged, or something, just so that it was something that could be healed and moved on with. But you couldn’t say anything. You just hung your head in shame as your stylist finally grabbed you the pair of pants that you were planning on wearing to the event tonight, and you slipped them on, zipping and buckling securely.
“What are you doing in here?” You asked, avoiding the question. Trying to pretend that they didn’t see what they knew that they saw. Robert and Hemsworth were looking at each other now and Scarlett was stepping past Chris to come up to you.
“We were uhh -” Mark Ruffalo said, looking sheepish. “- we planned on surprising you? It was just a stupid prank, really...”
“What happened?” Chris Evans asked again, this time cutting off Mark. Scarlett put her arms around your shoulders and dropped her head onto one of them, hugging you quietly. You looked away from her. From all of them. Even your stylist, who had been keeping your secret for over five years now remained silent.
Jeremy came onto your other side and hugged you as well. Chris then. Both of them. Mark. But not Robert. He was the one who stood near the door with his arms crossed, looking at you. Evans understood because he knew anxiety. But Robert understood because he knew addiction. It was because of that look that you opened up and let it spill. It was only an hour until you were on the red carpet, and make up artists had to be called into your room to fix Scarlett’s eyeliner and to make the guys eyes look less red because they cried with you, they cried for you.
“You can turn to us whenever you need it, you know,” Chris Hemsworth said, towering above the rest of you. He ruffled your hair which made your hairstylist gasp with horror.
“Now that we know, you’re going to have a hard time getting rid of us, actually,” Scarlett said, kissing your cheek, and wiped off the smudge that was made by her lipstick.
“You guys don’t have to-” You started, but Robert blew you off with a very Tony like wave in the air.
“We don’t have to do anything - except what’s in our Disney contracts. This - we’re doing cause we love you.”
Requested by: Anonymous
