Chapter 28: The Party

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A/N: Content Warning- Mentions of alcohol

Today was a terrible day. Asides from the Sokovia Accords and the Captain America fitness challenge, it is definitely clear that Peter does not like me back. And why should I want him too? It's selfish when I know I'm leaving. But when I see the way Liz looks at him and he stares back... I miss it. I miss me and him. Why is it always too late for us?

Two years ago I was taking down SHIELD and thinking it was the best thing ever. Despite the danger, I longed for the excitement. One year later my world falls apart... I miss him every day. And even though I'm not as bad as I was, I can't seem to find the excitement that comes from being an Avenger anymore. It's why I couldn't talk to Ned about it. They are me when I was new to the hero world; embracing the excitement of using what you have to give more. My hardened outlook comes from all the trauma I've faced. I know it does. In Malibu. In Sokovia. In Berlin. Even here. 

And so I mustn't expect Peter to ever like me anymore. Not after all that I've done. I've killed, I've lied, there's blood on my hands and always a little black lightning inside. I am the lightning girl. I am a Stark. I am a shadow in the night. I am a hero. I am a monster. And Liz... is just Liz. How could I compete with that?

As I put my diary down, I stare at the pictures on the wall, clinging to the faces that have becomes distant memories. 

Everyone will be out tonight, at the party. I wish I could go too.

I could go. One last practice at sneaking out. I've done it before, it could work. 

I guiltily slip on a pair of jeans and a cropped top. I promised myself I would never go out to parties again until I was sure I wouldn't be a danger to myself, but I am not really breaking that promise by going to Liz's. I won't drink anything... 

...

'Katy, you came!' Liz beams. 'There's pizza on the table and help yourself to drinks.'

'Oh, I'm wasn't planning on-'

'Hey, did anyone see Spiderman's new costume? Apparently Tony Stark made it.'

For some reason my mind only remembers the numbing sensation that drinking can bring. How it can cut out the pain and the thoughts. 

'What kind do you have?' 

Betty pours me a drink and we complement each other's clothes- I forgot how easy it was to fall back into the pattern. I have been to Liz's house before but I've never met her parents or anything, they're not usually around. Still, her parties are not nearly as wild as some of the ones I went to with Lorna. I'm aware of something smashing outside and my head instantly snaps to the direction it came from. It's fine, I tell myself, trying to stop my lips from downing the drink. I feel nervously on edge. Sneaking out, being back in a party setting. Music. Noise. Flash beeping his horn. As my eyes dart around, I'm aware of MJ walking behind me with some toast. I'm surprised she's here. I follow her trail, watching where she goes. Parker and Ned. They actually came. I take another sip. They both look as out of place as I feel right now. I almost go to say hi but then Liz appears to greet them.

'Hey, wanna dance?' Some guy asks. I don't know his name but he seems familiar. I glance across at Parker, he seems pretty fixated on Liz.  I glance back at the guy in front of me. I know what he wants from the look in his eyes. I say yes anyway. 

I try to focus on the person in front of me and not the conversation between Ned and Parker. He's really considering showing off Spiderman. Reluctant, but considering. Then Flash shouts 'Penis Parker what's up? Where's your pal Spiderman? That's not Spiderman, that's just Ned in a red shirt.' and I just know from the look he gives that he's going to do it. I watch him leave Ned standing alone. I can't believe Parker is going to swing in here as Spiderman. He really does just want the recognition. I don't understand it. Never once have I used Ion Girl to boost my popularity. I've always kept my identity a secret and even now, I have done everything possible to escape the recognition and fame that will come at sixteen. 

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