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Silence.
All she could hear was silence.
Not a single sound could be heard, not even her breathing.
All she saw was emptiness. A dark void surrounding her.
Scott.
He was stuck in the quantum realm.
She should have pulled him out.
Damn it, she had time to pull him out.
Hope?
God, if only she wasn't so shocked by the sight of her parents(and herself) disintegrating before her.
Shit, it was all her fault. Now he was trapped and it was all her fault.
"Hope!"
She was shaken out of her trance by Scott's firm grip on her shoulders.
Her eyes were still slightly glazed over as she looked around trying to reorientate herself, before her eyes focused on Scott's.
She couldn't feel anything. Just a dull ache in her heart.
And when did it get so cold in here?
As though he had read her mind, Scott rubs her arms with his hands, "Gosh, Hope. You're freezing. Let me get you a blanket."
Scott returns a minute later, sitting down next to where she was on the couch, wrapping the blanket tightly around her.
Scott's eyebrows furrow in worry when she did not react, staring off into nothing as though she was merely just a shell of herself.
"Hope?"
Hope turns to look at him, her eye contact held at a bare minimum, a stray tear running down her cheek.
Scott reaches up to wipe it away with his thumb, and the moment he cups her face, she slumps towards him. It was as though her body gave out on her, her entire weight leaning into his body. It had taken him by surprise, so he had to shift to hold her properly. He could feel her shaking in his arms.
"Hope. Hope, it's okay. You're safe. You wanna tell me what's wrong?"
As expected, Hope shook her head, burying herself deeper into Scott's chest.
Scott so desperately wanted Hope to talk. But she wouldn't. She never did. She always kept her problems to herself until she broke. Scott just wanted her to give in to her vulnerability, to just tell him what was causing her so much pain. But of course, his girlfriend was stubborn and chose to stick it out until she couldn't take it anymore.
It broke his heart to see her this way, but he knew her well enough to know that if he forced her to talk, it would just make things worse. She had to talk in her own time. In the mean time, he did what he always did.
He'd hold her for as long as she needed, whisper reassurances into her ear and talk. Talk about anything under the sun until she'd respond to something he said with a quiet chuckle, and he knew she was okay for now.
Then he'd wait. He'd wait until she breached the subject a few days later with caution, carefully testing the waters as her heart beat rapidly in her chest. He'd ground her with his hand on hers or a kiss on her forehead, and she'd bare her heart to him. She'd show him all her struggles and her pain and he'd listen. He'd listen to every precious word she said and wait when it got too much for her. He'd listen as she talked, his hand caressing the back of hers gently as her voice shook with emotion. And when she was done, he'd pull her into a tight embrace and tell her everything that she needed to hear.
And when she'd look up at him a few moments later with a soft smile on her face, leaning in to kiss him gently, they knew that everything would be okay.