┌────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────┐
chapter one
EVERYONE HATES FLASH
└────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────┘

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

ON BAD DAYS, LENA can't control her energy levels. They zoom through the roof, causing her to bounce off the walls and shake uncontrollably. Times like these make her unable to even think straight. She often feels like she's going to combust then and there if she doesn't do something about it. She's a ticking time bomb about to explode, a catastrophe trapped in human skin.

Usually, there are three options: a) take a run around New York City, which isn't always the best plan due to heavy traffic and the number of civilians, b) curl into a ball and hope she doesn't actually explode, or c) show up at her best friend's door unexpectedly and hope to all the forces above that he's home.

Luckily, this time, he is. Graham Seager whisks open the door to his apartment immediately after she finishes knocking. Though Lena is tall, her friend is considerably more so, standing above six feet so he has to look down at her. His dark skin shows his mixture of African-American and Caucasian heritage that he'd inherited from his parents. His clothes are as casual as always– an unbuttoned flannel with a graphic tee beneath it and dark jeans. The sight of him alone is enough to calm Lena's nerves a fraction.

His dark brows crease in concern as he quickly examines her wild eyes, twitching hands running through her wild tangle of brunette hair, and bouncing feet. His own coffee-colored eyes widen in realization.

Putting an arm around her to partially obscure her from the view of his parents and brothers, Graham ushers Lena inside and hollers to the rest of his family that she's here. He doesn't give them any time for hellos before she's pulled into his room and the door is firmly closed.

Graham and Lena have been friends long enough that it's not alarming to their parents for the door to be shut. Because of this, they don't have to worry about the possibility of someone coming in and asking questions. That's why she comes here. One, because her adoptive parents would disown her if they knew about this, and two, because he's good at distracting her.

She sits on his springy mattress, carefully avoiding the deathly sharp corner of its metal frame— she's slammed her ankle against it more times than she can count. A shudder rips through her as a small cloud of blue-tinted energy emits from her body. It's gentle, but still causes his furniture to rattle a bit.

"Talk," Lena demands through shaking breaths. She's trembling from head to toe, though that accidental release had brought some minor relief. Her chest is tightening to the point where it almost feels like her ribs will crack. The tension in her jaw is causing it to ache.

They do this often. For some reason, concentrating on Graham's voice seems to calm her episodes down. One time, he'd read a quarter of The Order of the Phoenix aloud until it finally passed. Another, he'd sung his latest piece and played it on the small keyboard in his cluttered bedroom. Anything involving him speaking has a cathartic effect on her constantly racing nerves.

"Did you see the latest Spider-Man news?" he questions. Lena rolls her eyes, but lets him explain. "He was two blocks from you, just" — he makes ridiculous motions with his hands — "swingin' away. I think Emily Jordan caught it on video. I mean, he's been at this for, like, seven months. I don't know how you haven't run into him yet."

Graham is the only one who knows about Lena's alter ego, one he'd taken upon himself to nickname Havoc. He'd even helped her work on her costume. It's a piece of crap — literally something they ordered off of the internet — but neither of them have jobs and therefore the amounts they can spend are limited. Especially when he just can't say, "Hey mom, Lena's a crime-stopping vigilante with superpowers so we need to borrow thirty bucks for her costume. Thanks!"

"My point is," he continues, eyeing her leg warily as her it bounces up and down at an abnormally fast pace, "maybe you two should team up. He's got the webshooters, you've got the... that... stuff."

"Energy manipulation," Lena reminds him through gritted teeth. Her body is beginning to strain again with the effort to keep another blast from going off. She can feet sweat dotting her upper lip and hairline, then debates on spontaneously chopping all her locks off. Her heart is beating so quickly she thinks it might burst.

"Right, that. You'd be an unstoppable force! Maybe just once, you could pay him a visit. I know he really hasn't done much real crime-stopping, but maybe you both could if you were allies."

"I'm not teaming up with Spider-Man," Lena protests blankly. Her eyes are darting around. She examines the New York Philharmonic poster behind his head, positioned above his wooden desk. Another picture labeling the parts of a guitar is taped up beside it. She's seen these things a hundred times, and looking at them again isn't helping her in the slightest.

Her mind is racing. She can't afford to break anything in his room— not again. Her brain keeps repeating: God dammit God dammit God dammit God dammit God—

"Whatever you say." Graham shrugs and spins on his desk chair. "But admit it— his new costume's sweet."

That, she can't argue with. His sudden upgrade is sick.

-♕-

Since she doesn't have a car like many other teenagers who live in Queens, Lena has to walk to school every day and take the subway for half of the trip. Buildings that were once eye-catching and awe-inspiring had faded into the background at some point during her sophomore year. The underground train is much less thrilling to ride on. Now in her third year at Midtown School of Science and Technology, her mind goes on autopilot and her body takes her where she needs to go.

She likes to listen to music that she feels matches her personality, which is why Imagine Dragons' album Evolve is blasting in her eardrums. Her lips form the lyrics to "I Don't Know Why" as she walks with her hands in the pockets of her favorite denim jacket, embezzled with way too many decorative pins. Her head bops along to the various instrumentations in the chorus. But before long, her journey is put to an end by Midtown Tech looming ahead of her.

Lena enters the main hallway and removes her headphones just in time to hear, "Students, don't forget about your Homecoming tickets! Do you... have a date... for Homecoming?"

So she hadn't missed the daily newscast. She isn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. Her attention turns to one of the various flat-screen televisions in the hallway, stopping in the middle of the corridor. Someone bumps into her shoulder hard.

The student council president, Betty Brant, forces a chuckle. A blank smile stretches her bubblegum-pink lips. "Thanks, Jason, but I already have a date."

"Okay."

"Yeah."

Lena cringes as the camera pans to the dark-skinned vice president, who has an extremely uncomfortable expression plastered on his face. She really can't stand the school newscast. Betty and Jason are both nice kids, but they never fail to make her feel sorry for them every time she arrives in time to catch their segments. It doesn't make sense to her why the student council moderator can't give them some much-needed tips on how to appear more comfortable on camera.

She almost slams into Ned Leeds when she continues on her way to her locker. She's confused for a second — his locker is nowhere near here — but then remembers that Peter Parker's is. The two are like Graham and Lena: inseparable, and they've been friends for as long as she can remember. Every memory she has of Ned, Peter has always been right by his side. It's heartwarming.

Lena nods in acknowledgment at Ned. He's a bigger boy with straight black hair of Filipino heritage like her and an endless supply of graphic t-shirts. He really might be the nicest person she knows; she's never had a dull moment around him.

Ned puts a finger to his lips and points to an oblivious Peter, who is preoccupied with opening his locker. She grins and nods in understanding.

Peter's the kind of quiet kid who is actually pretty cute if you look closely at him and don't let him fade into the crowd like he tends to do. His honey-brown hair is always parted to the side, pale skin appearing washed-out in the poor lighting of the school. His scrawny frame is deceiving; Graham had told her how many sit-ups the boy can do in gym class.

"Join me, and together we'll build my new Lego Death Star!" Ned exclaims in a low voice, balancing a tiny, plastic figurine of some sci-fi character on Peter's shoulder.

The latter turns around with his mouth hanging open in disbelief. "What?"

"So lame," one of the nearby cheerleaders sneers in their direction.

"What's 'lame' is that you're wearing your uniforms in school when there's not a game until Friday," Graham shoots back, appearing out of thin air to stand beside Lena. Right on time— as usual.

"Mind your own damn business," Lena adds with narrowed eyes.

The group of three roll their eyes in annoyingly perfect sync, but ultimately shut their mouths. Ned's is open in a gape — he probably hadn't been expecting for them to do that — but Peter gives the two a small, flustered nod of thanks. She smiles at him.

"I wonder how his Stark internship is going," Lena muses as she and Graham continue down the hallway toward their lockers. "He seems really busy with it."

"Yeah, he quit band." Graham twists his lips to the side in disappointment. "It's sad— he was good."

"And he left robotics. We are going to suck this year without him."

This is one area where the two are polar opposites. While Graham can play five different instruments and sing, Lena can barely hit a triangle on-key. She's more interested in cramming her head with knowledge than bothering with musical notes. While she's aiming for Cornell University, a school that specializes in science and tech, he's hoping to get into Juilliard.

Peter has seemed pretty off lately. They've been on the Decathlon team together for a second year now, and it used to be something he was dedicated to, but she can see his priorities shifting. He seems spaced-out during all of their meetings like he can't wait to leave. And quitting both band and robotics? What's next, ditching Nationals? They're fast approaching. Peter is highly intelligent; he's easily one of the most clever people she knows, and she'd hate to see him go.

"I'm worried about him," Lena admits with a sigh. They reach her locker first, so Graham leans against the one beside hers to let her finish talking. "I get that the internship is a huge step, but it's taking a toll on him. And what kind of program requires you to take the entire afternoon off, every day?"

"You've been paying attention." Her friend wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. A grin stretches his lips and shows off his perfectly straight teeth.

"I'm a sympathetic person," she fights back, shooting him a playful glare. "And if he skips out on D.C, then Flash has to take his place. I hate Flash."

"Everyone hates Flash. For your sake, I hope Peter gets his head straight and goes. But now I gotta head to my locker. See you in AP Gov!"

He flicks her on the forehead, but before she can retaliate, he turns and merges into the crowd of students.

Lena sighs. She faces her locker again, which is filled with textbooks, notebooks with their covers half-torn, loose papers, and countless novels from her AP Literature class that she keeps forgetting to take home. Various scraps of decorative paper make a haphazard collage on the inside of her door. The message 'GRAHAM IS THE BEST' had been scrawled messily on a piece of polka-dot material at an unknown point in time. She gropes around for her supplies before slamming the door closed and continuing on her way.

Lena's first class is Honors Physics, which she finds both a blessing and a curse. She'd much rather have it in the afternoon so she could be fully awake for her favorite subject. Instead, she often has to fight off oncoming yawns as she taps her restless fingers against the table. At least she's in the back of the room where Mrs. Warren usually can't see her nodding off.

She's one of the only juniors in the room. Because her schedule had gotten messed up last year, she ended up taking a junior-level science class as a sophomore. Physics is required at Midtown Tech and now she has to take it with students mostly younger than her.

As Mrs. Warren continues the day's lesson, Lena finds her line of sight drifting to Peter's laptop screen from the row in front of her. He's slumped low enough for her to see what he's watching: a Youtube video of Spider-Man swinging around Queens that was posted yesterday.

Her interest spikes. She leans forward and taps him on the shoulder. He jumps, clearly not expecting an interruption like that, before turning his head slightly to look behind him. "Y-Yeah?"

She nods at his screen. "That looks very educational."

"Oh, um, yeah," Peter replies in a whisper, the tips of his ears turning pink. "Speed, velocity, the elasticity of the webs. Strictly educational."

"Right." Her eyes drift to Mrs. Warren to make sure she's not looking in their direction. "And you're going to figure all that out in a 240-pixel video...how?"

"I just wanted to watch Spider-Man," Peter defends, his gaze not on her anymore but directed at the floor. "He's...cool. Solid dude."

She nods and leans back in her chair just as they're exposed. Mrs. Warren calls them out in an expectant voice, "Peter, Lena, care to answer?"

Her heart jumps a bit, embarrassment flooding to her veins as her focus shifts. She can feel her cheeks heating up at the fact they've been called out.

"Uh, yeah, yeah," the boy in front of her stammers as he closes his laptop.

Lena's eyes wiz across the board, examining the arrows, lines, and points labeled so quickly that any other person's mind would boggle. Her brain is already doing calculations before she even finishes assessing the information. It's science that has always come easiest to her, so being caught off-guard isn't a problem.

But just as she's about to spit out the answer, Peter does it for her. "Mass cancels out, so it's just gravity times sine."

Her mouth closes as he quickly casts her an apologetic look. She shrugs, not minding much. He'd been right, after all.

"Right," Mrs. Warren praises with a satisfied expression. "See, Flash, being the fastest doesn't always mean the best if you are wrong."

The boy diagonally in front of Peter turns to him with a murderous look in his eye. He quietly sneers, "You're dead."

Lena rolls her eyes. Some people are awful for the sake of being awful, and Flash Thompson is one of them. Nobody can fix that. Not even her, no matter how hard she tries. And she tries.

Honestly, the only thing the kid has over everyone else is rich parents. He's smart, sure, but so is everyone else on the Decathlon team. He's a spindly boy with Guatemalan heritage, wavy black hair always slicked back with an inappropriate amount of gel, and an attitude that makes everyone around him want to collectively punch him in the face. It's one of the seven wonders of the world why he's even popular.

But Peter merely lets the threat bounce off of him and glances above Lena's head to check the time. She exhales from the corner of her mouth. When will he learn to just slow down, instead of living every second of his life in anticipation of another?

____

side note: i love lena

side side note: the relationship between peter and lena will mostly be platonic because he's still crushing on liz and i want to build their friendship before they start catching feelings

side side side note: don't comment spoilers for the sake of others who haven't seen it yet, but INFINITY WAR WRECKED ME ON EVERY LEVEL

-kristyn