LONELY HEARTS | ❝You don't have to be a hero, just like I don't have to be sad all the time, but sometimes fate works in strange ways and, well, here we are❞
PRE-CIVIL WAR → HOMECOMING | PETER PARKER
BOOK ONE IN THE HERO OF HEROES SERIES
Plot: tinke...
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DIANA NEVER LIKED FAMILY REUNIONS. ESPECIALLY SINCE SHE WASN'T EVEN PART OF THIS PARTICULAR FAMILY. She tugged nervously at her dress as she maneuvered through the crowd, smiling politely at people, looking away quickly before she could elicit a response. She looked around frantically for a familiar face, someone with whom she could seek refuge. There were only three real candidates and none could be found.
She sighed and worried on her bottom lip, continuing to walk around, listening as people talked about how much so and so had grown and how this cousin was getting married and that cousin just broke up with their partner and how she couldn't possibly be wearing that unsightly rag of a dress. Just a wonderful, generic family reunion.
It would be more bearable if she were actually related to these people.
"Diana!"
She turned around, sighing in relief at the sound of a familiar voice. She hurried over towards the punch bowl, trying not to trample on anyone's feet or get knocked over by the passing family members. She slowed to a stop, gratefully taking the cup of punch handed to her.
"So," she started, "This is the full family, huh? I like your little three person one better." She smiled at Flash, hoping he wouldn't take offense.
He laughed shortly. "Four person. You live with us remember? After five years, you'd think she'd get it through her head, you know?" He shook his head at his cup, as if sharing a secret with it, pretending that Diana wasn't there to hear.
She scoffed, shaking her head. "Why aren't you mingling? You haven't seen these people in years, I thought maybe you'd be excited to see them."
Flash scowled. "Nope. God, I hate my family. They're all a bunch of assholes." He shook his head, finishing his cup of punch and moving to get some more.
"You're not much of a saint either, Flash Thompson," she whispered as she took a sip of her drink.
He looked up, having heard her comment. "I didn't say I was great, I'm just saying that they're not any better."
She sighed, tilting her head. For all that he acknowledged he wasn't that good of a person, Flash never seemed to be making an effort to get any better. Or, if he was, he wasn't that good at showing it, expressing it, or making any progress at all. She liked to think he was a good person, deep down, but over time, it had gotten harder and harder to believe it.
Flash, who had been downing his just-filled cup, caught her staring and raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong? I got something on my face or—"
"No," she said, shrugging, "Just thinking."
"About me?" he ventured, turning to face her, waiting curiously. "Is this going to be a compliment or another insult?" He crossed his arms lightly, his cup hanging loosely in his hand.
She chose her words carefully. Despite being taller than the boy, he was still much stronger; you don't get on the football team freshman year and actually get to play if you're subpar. As a result, she made sure never to get on his bad side, lest he decide to turn his animosity towards his family friend and, by some extension, roommate. Housemate, more like, really.
