Lose it once, lose it twice
“It’s okay Clint, we can fix this!”
A text message.
Delete.
Lips pressed together as the archer closed his eyes for a brief moment.
Clint., a familiar hand signed, red curls bouncing up and down as she signed, so quickly that he could barely grasp it.
Clint, your hearing is gone. They don’t know if you can get it back. I’m sorry.
Sorry. Weren’t they all sorry.
It had all happened so fast. Bullets were shot and some kind of super mutant on the loose, threatening the whole team.
Clint had jumped in between, shooting arrow after arrow, and eventually, bringing them all out before the explosion happened - the explosion that should’ve killed the others, that almost killed him, but only managed to take his hearing.
The moment he was free to go, he’d been gone, away from the city, from the noise that had now turned into monotone buzzing, towards the country side.
It was quiet, he knew that, no sound but leaves in the wind or the nearby lake.
Nothing.
And that was where he’d stay, forever if he needed to.
Everything that made him an Avenger, everything that had made him worthy of helping, of saving people, it was all gone with his hearing.
How was he supposed to ever help anyone again? How would he ever manage to hear someone call for help, to know where explosions happened?
He couldn’t. He’d never be able to and it had sent him into a state of mind in which he just didn’t care. In which he just stared at the wall in the time he had to himself, or cleaned something, chopped some wood.
Nothing that required a superhero.
Because he definitely wasn’t one.
“Clint, please, text back!”
Delete. They’d be better off without him anyways.












