↹ HEARTBREAK // M C U ↹ DISCONTINUED

0.4

The night of the gala, Jet started to think of just quitting, taking Max to Stark Towers herself and standing outside until someone claimed them. As she dug through her mother's extensive closet, she listened to Harry complain loudly over the phone about how hard it was to find a tie that matched his 'aesthetic'. Max sat quietly on her mother's bed, enthralled with some show he'd found using her laptop. He was wearing a pair of Harry's basketball shorts he'd tied as tight as he could and one of her old gym shirts from one of her junior high's, previously buried in the back of her closet.

Jet pulled out a dark green dress, holding it up for her phone. On facetime, Harry was attempting to fasten on cufflinks. He gave her a grin, nodding as enthusiastically as he had for the last three dress she'd held up. She turned to Max, cocking her head.

"I liked the blue one better."

"Blue it is."

She kicked the other dresses back into the closet, slinging the dark blue dress over her shoulder. It really would be nice, if it hadn't been purchased by her mother. It was one of the more conservative dresses she had, meant to fall mid-calf, but ending up around Jet's ankles. She didn't usually wear dresses, but she'd gotten a twelve-year-old's seal of approval, so she tossed her phone on the bed, walking into the bathroom to change. Her hair was curled (with only two fingers burnt) and she'd used her limited makeup skills to hide her eye bags and make lit ook like she was more than a ghost. Stepping into the dress, the look was pretty much complete. She stared into the mirror, frowning. She kind of hated it. She looked fine— she actually looked nice —but it felt like she was wearing a skin that wasn't hers. She was tempted to smear her lipstick a bit or yank out a few bobbypins keeping her hair from her face.

Whatever. This was the least stressful part of her night.

Jet walked back out, frowning at Max. He gave her a smile.

"You look pretty. Uncomfortable, but very pretty. Harry is on his way."

"Thanks, Blue."

The nickname came about after Max's first morning with her. He discovered the blue syrup in her fridge as the three of them attempted pancakes and decided it was the coolest thing ever. And when she pulled out the singular box of old clothes she'd kept, he'd practically pounced on a blue hoodie repping some band she used to love. Plus, they needed a code name to call him over the phone. And it was fitting, considering his eyes were about the bluest things she'd ever seen.

"Are you sure you'll be okay alone? You remember how to use the phone, right?"

She'd gotten a burner phone on the way home one day and set it up with her and Harry's numbers. Harry put a sticker of a starfish on the back, claiming it was stylish. 

Max nodded, rolling his eyes from her bed. "I think you forget I'm literally a rouge asset created by HYDRA."

"You're also twelve." At least, that's what they think.

He stuck his tongue out, returning to his show.

Jet snorted, leaving the kid to discover the internet and head downstairs. She nearly slipped in her heels, catching herself on the railing. Her frown returned as she stumbled down, cursing everything she could think of. Jet thought back to earlier that week, wondering how things went so wrong.

"Okay, so we go to the party, corner Romanoff and— what, convince her to come with us without explaining ourselves?" Harry gestured sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Great plan, Jay— I don't see any flaws."

Max frowned at the two, the sarcasm going over his head. Jet was unphased, waiting with a raised eyebrow until Harry was done rambling.

"Well, first off— you aren't going. Stark hates Osborne, no way you'll get an invite."