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chapter twenty
FRIENDS DO LIE
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GOING TO SCHOOL ON Monday almost seems impossible. Granted, going to school any day seems impossible, but this particular morning feels like she's actually getting the life drained out of her the more she's within the building of Midtown Tech. Her body still has a residual ache from the bruises covering her skin and the general soreness of battle. She'd popped several over-the-counter pain relievers before leaving her apartment. Even so, she still feels the same dull ache every time she moves. She's had to place a bandage across her face to allow the cut to heal. Being in so much pain is exhausting.

It's been a strange day. She keeps forgetting that they've actually defeated their main villain. Hoodie Man has apparently fallen off the face of the earth — he hadn't been attached to the bus anymore when they came back to Homecoming that night — and there hasn't been a word from Vulture's other accomplices, if he has any.

It seems surreal. Lena catches herself staring at Peter and thinking, We did that. Them, two teenage superheroes with powers they barely understand. Two atrociously different nerds. The thought has her wondering who else in their school has abilities that they struggle with. Does the boy she sits next to in AP Calc have the power to heal? Can her locker neighbor lift three times her body weight? If they can hide their superhero guise well, then so can anyone else.

Then she passes by Liz's locker on her way to AP Gov, and all of that pride goes to shit.

The tall girl has her arms hugged around her stomach and her head down, a posture so different from her normal, confident one that it takes Lena by surprise. A curtain of wavy black hair obscures her face from view. Her mother and Betty are cleaning the books, notebooks, binders, and knick-knacks from the small blue space. Every plop of a book into the cardboard box or taking down of a picture makes the locker look sad. Barren. Lifeless. Lena even catches a glimpse of a picture of the team at Nationals the split second before her mother removes it.

Words fire out of her mouth before she can stop them. "Hey, Liz—"

She doesn't know where to go from there. Just as quickly as the words come, they die in her throat, and she's left to stand there in the hallway, gaping like a fish out of water. There are so many things that she wants to say but can't make her mouth form the words.

Liz turns around, and, to Lena's surprise, envelopes her in a hug. The younger girl feels a stab of guilt as she returns the embrace. It runs through her gut and rests there, causing a pool of utter coldness to form in her stomach. She can't help but feel like she's a hypocrite. After all, she is the reason why Liz is so miserable.

"We're moving to Oregon," the girl reports in a voice thick with emotion. "Dad doesn't want us here for the trial."

Lena is speechless. Anything she can think of to say sounds like a betrayal.

After a beat, Liz pulls back and abruptly seizes her by the shoulders. Her red-rimmed eyes stare directly into Lena's own. They're watery, but firm, and she remembers why Liz has won every election she's run in. It's extremely difficult not to listen to her when she wants you to. "I want you to be the new team captain for next year."

Lena's eyes widen to the size of small planets at the suggestion. For a moment, her chest swells with pride— Elizabeth Allen, the most intelligent and hardworking person she's ever met, trusts her enough to follow in her footsteps. But it deflates a moment later like a needle being stabbed into a balloon. She can't accept this, not when she isn't completely dedicated to the team. She'll be too focused on crime-fighting with Peter to shoulder such a significant role. She's already busy enough, and her last year of high school next year will be difficult even without the burden of the decathlon team on her shoulders.

Liz continues even though Lena stays silent. "I already told Mr. Harrington. Lena, you are so smart and so good at leading people that I trust you to take the team to Nationals again. They'll follow you."

The girl's eyes have ignited with the same passion Lena is used to seeing in her every day. She doesn't think Liz has realized she's been shaking Lena by the shoulders like a rag doll the entire time. The guilt in her gut turns to ice, hardening to an almost painful point as she shakes her head and watches the joy fade in Liz's tear-stained face.

"I'm sorry," is what she starts off with, which is the truth. "I can't. I'm — I just don't think I can do it. College, you know?" The lump in her throat is threatening to choke her. She wishes so badly that she could tell Liz the full truth. "Thank you for believing in me, but I'm sure there's someone else on the team who'd be more dedicated to the position than me."

Liz, trying to mask her disappointment, slips her hands from Lena's shoulders. She sniffles and her voice returns to the meek mumble it had been before. "It's okay. I thought I'd pitch you the idea before Mr. Harrington announced it at the next meeting, but I guess I'll tell him to pick someone else."

Lena puckers her lips to keep herself from immediately retracting her statement and taking on the responsibility. It'd definitely be a way to ease her conscience. But if she has to look at herself every day and remember why she has that position...

"Elizabeth," her mother calls from behind her. The cardboard box in her arms is filled to the brim with supplies, and it makes Lena feel even worse. It looks like Liz's future has just been dumped into that box as well. "We have to go."

"Yeah," Liz mutters as she brushes a stray tear from her eye. "One second." She turns back toward Lena and gives her a sad smile, crossing her arms back over her chest. "Text me when you get accepted to Cornell next fall, because I know you will. You have a lot of potential, Lena. Always remember that."

Lena wants to punch herself in the face even as she returns her somber grin. "Thank you, Liz. You too."

As she watches Betty guide Liz toward the front office, her mom carrying the box close behind them, Lena vainly tries to convince herself that defeating Vulture was worth it. He'd been handling extremely dangerous and illegal weapons. He used them to steal priceless Avengers technology. Not only that, but he'd tried to kill her and Peter without batting an eyelash.

Lena glances back at Liz's locker. Although it blends in with the hundreds of other nondescript metal containers surrounding it, something seems to emit from the tiny cracks of the door. A future scrapped within a day.

She wonders if Liz would still think so highly of her if she knew that she'd been the one to turn in her father.

-♕-

Lena has gotten through a fourth of her homework load when Graham texts her.

GRAHAM CRACKER: red.

Immediately, she sprints out of her empty apartment — Ma and Pa had gone grocery shopping together — and high-tails it to the nearest subway station. Hopefully she won't be grounded for unexpectedly leaving. Her parents would understand if it was an emergency, right?

She tells herself this to keep from having a full-blown panic in the subway car. The businessman sitting beside her politely side-eyes her as her leg bounces up and down like she'd just downed seven cups of coffee, biting her lip to the point where she almost splits the slightly-chapped skin. The subway seems to move slower just to spite her. Even though Graham's apartment is one stop and a two-minute walk away from her own, it seems to take an eternity and a half to reach it.

She takes the steps of his building two at a time, thanking her genetics for giving her long legs as she propels herself up to the sixth floor. Lena runs down the corridor until she reaches the Seager family's door. Her knuckles pound on the wooden door with an unnecessary amount of force that makes the sound echo down the hallway.

Max, one of Graham's younger twin brothers, opens the door. He raises an eyebrow at her slightly disheveled expression and the way her chest is heaving. "Why do you look like you just ran a marathon and then got hit by a truck?"

"Is Graham home?" she asks breathlessly instead of allowing his insult to get under her skin. Max and Owen are twelve, the age where being civil to literally anyone is impossible.

The younger boy furrows a brow. "Yeah, he's in his room. Why?"

Lena elbows her way into the apartment without explanation. Graham's family is practically her own — she'd been there when Max and Owen had said their first words and taken their first steps — so it's not an unusual occurrence. Her brow furrows at the sight of his parents sitting on the couch and watching television together. Things appear normal, so it isn't a family crisis. At least not one they appear to know of.

"Hi, Lena," Mrs. Seager greets with a benign grin, her dark hair piled into a neat bun on her head. Lena's eyes scrutinize her from the top of her hairdo down to the points of her slippered feet. Her pale complexion looks healthy— no signs of illness, not even a cold.

Lena's gaze snaps to Graham's father. Mr. Seager is a dark-skinned, rather tall man who has passed his height on to all three sons. He, too, smiles at her with a perfectly straight set of teeth, his brown eyes kind and welcoming. Nothing seems to be wrong with him.

For a moment, her heart strikes with fear at Owen's unknown whereabouts, but then she hears the sound of him practicing his violin behind the closed door of the twins' bedroom to her left. Definitely not a family issue.

Her mind whirls, trying to piece together what could possibly be wrong enough to have Graham send a red. He'd been fairly normal at school. Maybe he seemed a little out of it, but that was pretty normal considering their hectic weekend. It's only been two hours since they last saw each other. What could have changed?

"Earth to stupid!" Max calls, punching Lena in the arm as he walks past her, purposely shoving her as she did to him only moments earlier. She blinks and discovers the parents watching her in concern.

"Sorry," she says somewhat sheepishly. "I got a bad grade on a test and I'm freaking out. I need to go ask Graham what he got."

With that, she pivots on her foot and turns toward the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. Her heart begins to roar in her chest as she nears her best friend's closed door. She's fearful of what she'll find... or maybe what she won't.

Lena steps into Graham's room like she has thousands of times since they were six, only now, something is glaringly different. Her eyes examine the small space for any obvious changes. She skims over the posters above his desk — one illustrating the parts of a guitar and the other of the New York Philharmonic — and trails her gaze over the keyboard shoved against the wall. He still has his same cluttered desk and headphones thrown onto his bed. Everything is the same, and somehow this only troubles her more, because she'd been certain that something had changed.

She feels like a stranger in a place she once considered home.

It doesn't help that Graham is fiddling with the sleeves of his sweatshirt, nervously pacing the floor as she walks in. It causes her already racing nerves to move at an astronomical pace until she physically vibrates. She quickly snags his office chair and throws herself into it, bouncing her leg up and down to release some of the energy as she waits for him to talk.

"Okay," Graham begins, sounding uncharacteristically unsure of himself. "You have to promise not to freak out."

"Too late for that," Lena mutters. Her heart is already beating at a rate that is probably concerning. When her friend sends her a pointed look, she shrugs. "Look, you've been acting weird for months and now you've sent me a red text and are telling me not to freak out. Of course I'm gonna freak out."

"Fine," Graham replies shortly, nearly cutting her off with how quickly he spits it out. He bites his lip and holds her gaze level with his. "Just promise not to scream, at least."

Lena squints her eyes in suspicion but nods anyway. Graham takes a step back toward the corner of his room.

And melts into the shadows.

Literally— he melts into them. Simply, he's there one moment, and gone the next. Lena shoves herself out of the swivel chair and stares at the spot he'd been standing only seconds ago. There's nothing there except a wall, and she begins to understand what had been so different about his room.

He hadn't turned the lights on. The room appears more cramped than usual now that darkness dances across every surface and crevice not illuminated by the single window against the far wall. Her heart resumes its furious pounding, feeling like the walls are tilting in on her, that something is watching her. Something she can't see.

Graham reappears out of the shadows beside her. Lena screams in surprise, but he slaps his hand over her mouth before the sound can get very loud. She bites his palm. He yanks his hand back, shaking the pain away with a glare in her direction.

"That was for not telling me," Lena says with a shudder. She crosses her arms over her chest to hide her nerves. "What the hell was that?"

"I don't know," Graham replies, plopping down on his bed and putting his head in his hands. He runs his fingers through his short hair before continuing. "It started with these — these nightmares. At first I didn't think anything of it. A nightmare is just a nightmare, right? But I started having them every night. It got to the point where I couldn't sleep. I was living off of caffeine for three days. And then I thought, shit, I'm going to die if I don't do something."

He hesitates. Graham's mouth is open like he's about to continue, but he merely blanches like the words have been caught in his throat.

Lena sits down beside him and places a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. Her gaze softens as much as her voice, staring at this boy who has helped her through so much and hoping that she can do the same for him. "Graham, you're my best friend. I'm a crime-fighting vigilante with energy manipulation powers from psycho parents who wanted to use me as a weapon. Trust me, I won't judge."

Graham forces a chuckle for her half-joke, but it disappears as quickly as it had come. He shakes himself out of her grip.

"The thing is... shadow traveling isn't the only thing I can do," he confesses like the weight of the world is being pressed into his shoulders. Something tells Lena he hasn't spoken these words aloud before, because they sound foreign and strange on his tongue. "I can't explain it. I just have to show you, but you cannot scream this time, okay?"

Lena braces herself. "Okay."

Graham lets out a slow breath and cups his hands in his lap. Closing his eyes, he tenses, and slowly, a black swirl of mist pools in his palms. Lena watches as it shapes itself into something and begins to solidify. She can't explain what she's seeing, only that, as it continues to form, ice cold fear spikes in her chest and she finds herself wanting to scramble away from it. But she simultaneously feels compelled to stay rooted to her spot.

It's a ... monster. It's the only way to describe it. A being that only exists in the depths of one's mind. It's every bad thought, every speck of doubt, every terror personified into a living thing. It's the monster under the bed or hiding in the closet. It's what scrapes cold talons of fear down one's spine. What lurks in the darkness at the end of a corridor.

Lena releases a shuddering breath she didn't know she was holding. "What — is that?"

Graham opens his eyes; the creature seems to grin at him before disappearing in a puff of smoke. "My nightmare."

______

whOOmp there it is!! you finally know what's been bugging graham for the past, oh, fifteen or so chapters! i've been building this up for forever and it feels so good to finally have it out of the bag.

i posted this today in honor of hailee's birthday! happy 22nd to my queen

i changed up the chapter layouts a bit!they're cuter now and i feel that they fit more with the book, as well as make it seem more...idk, complete? the stars remind me so much of lena and i think she'd find them very cute

also uuhhhhHhhHh THE FIRST AVENGERS: ENDGAME CAME OUT ON FRIDAY AND CONSIDER ME SHOOK

—kristyn