The safehouse was unusually calm that night.

Red Guardian snored so loudly the walls vibrated. Ghost had phased herself somewhere quiet. Bucky sat outside sharpening a knife because that’s what Bucky did when he couldn’t sleep.

You were in the small kitchen, quietly making yourself tea.

Yelena walked in behind you, humming lightly as she stretched her arms above her head.

She didn’t notice your headphones around your neck — the ones you wore when the world felt too loud.

She also didn’t notice how tense your shoulders already were.

“HEY!” she said excitedly, clapping her hands. “Tiny mouse-person. I found snacks in Red Guardian’s bag that he definitely stole from a vending machine—”

You didn’t even hear the words.

Just the sound.

The sharp clap.

It echoed like a gunshot.

Your vision snapped white. Your body jolted. The mug slipped from your hands and shattered on the floor.

Your knees buckled before you even understood why, hands flying up to cover your ears as your chest seized tight, breath shattering into broken pieces.

You didn’t cry. You didn’t scream.

You folded. Silent. Terrified. Gone inside yourself.

Yelena froze.

Her smile vanished instantly.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. “Hey— hey, no, no, no— I didn’t mean— I…”

She stepped toward you, then stopped herself, realizing she might make it worse.

“Breathe,” she said softly, voice shaking now. “Just breathe. Please.”

You pressed yourself against the cabinet, trembling so hard your teeth almost clicked. Fingers pressed to your ears. Trying to be small. Trying to disappear.

Yelena crouched down slowly — not touching, not crowding you.

“I scared you,” she whispered, guilt carving lines into her expression. “I scared you and I shouldn’t have.”

Your eyes were squeezed shut, breath coming in thin, panicked bursts.

Yelena swallowed.

“Look at me if you can,” she said gently. “If not… it’s okay. I’m right here.”

It took a long moment, but your eyes finally lifted.

Just barely.

Just enough.

And what Yelena saw in them made her chest crack open.

She whispered like touching glass:

“…this wasn’t just a startle.”

You shook your head, barely.

She inhaled sharply. Understanding.

“I didn’t know,” she said, voice trembling. “I swear I didn’t know it went this deep.”

You hugged your knees closer, hands still shaking.

Yelena very slowly reached out and placed her palm flat on the floor between you — a gesture of truce, not touch.

“You’re safe,” she said softly. “I’m not mad. I’m not loud. I’m right here. Just breathing with you.”

You matched the rhythm. Slow. Unsteady. But trying.

Yelena’s eyes softened when she saw your breathing ease.

“I’m never clapping near you again,” she whispered. “And I will never sneak up behind you anymore. Or yell too close. Or slam doors. Or drop things.”

Her voice cracked just a little.

“I don’t want to be someone you’re scared of.”

Your fingers loosened. Your breathing steadied.

You looked at her again — fragile, exposed, exhausted.

And Yelena smiled, gentle and relieved.

“See?” she whispered. “You’re still here. You didn’t disappear.”

She exhaled softly.

“And I’m not going anywhere.”