BROOKE WAS STILL INWARDLY CRYING DESPITE HAVING EXHAUSTED HER SUPPLY OF TEARS. She was back to her old work, tearing through her sketchbook until she had to go to another one, glad to have packed two in her bag that day, steeling herself in advance. Her iPod was also a great source of entertainment, blocking out the music from downstairs—it was nice music, she had to give Flash credit for that—and giving her enough to search references if need be.
The party had been well underway for almost an hour when she decided she wanted a snack. Unfortunately, that meant going downstairs and making it back to the comfort of the bathroom before someone decided to sneak in.
She climbed out of the tub, unlocking the door and peering out carefully. There didn't seem to be any people in the upstairs hallway, which was a good sign for her. Hopefully it would stay that way.
Scurrying down the stairs, she made her way to the kitchen, pausing when she caught sight of the food. Bread. Her sister set out bread for snacks for a party. She couldn't help but smile, because of course Liz did, she probably read somewhere that it was healthy or was a good conversation starter, or something to that effect.
She grabbed a bag of chips—it was her party, she could take what she wanted—and paused, glancing towards the secret door that had an electronic padlock. She and Liz found out at an early age that it contained all the alcohol in the house, their parents wanting to make sure that they never drank too much and that the girls never got to it.
Unfortunately for them, both she and Liz knew the passcode, though neither of them were in any real rush to get to it. Liz always feared she would become addicted, something that wasn't too far fetched in their family, and Brooke herself never found any reason to.
But she was filled with teenage angst and frustration fueled rebellion, so she made her way over towards it, pausing when she bumped into a random girl who apologized despite Brooke being the one to bump into her.
"Sorry," she said, same time as the girl, "Um, do you know where Liz is?"
"I think she helped this one girl who knocked over a bowl?" the girl replied, tilting her head, "Yeah, she had liked closed her fist around it, there was blood and everything. They're probably in the bathroom in the hallway? You're her sister, right?"
"Yeah," Brooke breathed, "That's me."
"Aw, well, this is a really nice party, Liz said you helped plan, you did a really good job," she said, giving her one last smile before turning back to the boy she was speaking to, and Brooke paused for a moment, staring at her.
That felt really nice.
But it was clear the girl was engrossed in her conversation, so she let it be, inputting the six-digit passcode and grabbing the first bottle she could reach, closing the door and letting it automatically lock before racing back up the stairs, glancing over to Flash at the DJ station who pointed towards her.
"Give it up for our other host, Brooke Allan, glad she finally showed up, whoo!"
She gave him a small smile, letting it drop immediately as she raced up the stairs, hiding the bottle from view, Flash's voice fading into the background, "She's a little shy, guys, it's alright."
After what seemed like an eternity, Brooke slid back into the bathroom, setting down the bottle and the chips before climbing back into the tub and sighing, shoving her earbuds back in, trying to drown out the noise she had been tuned in to, opening the bag and starting to eat.
She stared at the bottle for a few moments, unsure of what it even was. It was just a clear liquid and her mind said "vodka," but she couldn't be sure, as she had a very small scope of knowledge in the world of alcohol.
She did know, however, that people tended to drink alcohol when they were sad.
Shoving another chip into her mouth, she dusted off her fingers and reached for the bottle, peeling off the paper casing around the top and twisting it off, holding it in her hand as she didn't know where to put it.
She stared at it for a few moments, unsure of whether she wanted to go through with this. Of course, it was just a drink, but she was underage and while that wasn't a true problem, the idea of going so far in rebelling against all her parents taught her without proper reason. Of course, the proper reason would be that she was sad, but the question was if she was sad enough.
She barely had to think before reaching her conclusion: of course she was sad enough.
Her entire day had been awful, and it had all been climbing up to this point. She had been so excited to finally spend more time with Liz. Liz, who hadn't wanted to spend time with her in years, going so far as to throw a party with her, only for it to all come crashing down, because she didn't understand. She didn't get it, she didn't see what Brooke saw because she was never in the shadows, never hid herself, never felt like she had to. She was always herself and out for everyone to see—except for one detail that only Brooke knew—and it wasn't the same for her.
Brooke had to live with seeing, but never being seen. Hearing, but never being heard. She had to live with being the only one in the family who thought it was strange that her father went out late at night and returned in the morning, sometimes not even the next day, claiming to be for work related reasons despite no one knowing what he actually did for a living.
He didn't need a duffel bag full of clothes to do work.
But Liz didn't see it, couldn't see it, didn't want to see it, and there was nothing Brooke could do about it. Her mother even more so, she couldn't just go up to her and try to talk about it, especially when she wouldn't even be given the time of day, and she understood her mother was still learning how to be a mother, just as much as Brooke was still learning how to be a person, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt.
Yes, she was sad enough.
Without thinking, she tilted the bottle back and took a long sip of the drink, coughing and gagging as she managed to swallow all of it, her throat and nose burning. She choked, dry heaving as she reached for more chips, wishing she had brought water up with her as she shoved a handful into her mouth.
She was so caught up in the burn and the music blaring in her ears that she unwittingly drowned out the sound of Flash Thompson's music being cut short downstairs, the boy being dragged off by his foster sister and Liz heading back out to pull the party back into full swing with her Spotify.
She felt her lower lip begin to quiver as a new set of tears sprung loose and she shuddered as she began to cry yet again, her chest constricting despite being sure that she couldn't cry anymore, her body shaking because she was sick of all of this.
"Oh, shoot, sorry."
She startled, head whipping up to find a boy standing in the doorway, a hand over his eyes as he stammered, "Sorry, the door was unlocked and I just really wanted to find a place to hide, but I can't go home yet and my mom always told me to find a safe place if I felt uncomfortable, but I can't call her because she's out of town and I didn't realize someone was bathing, I'm sorry."
Brooke sighed heavily, staring at him for a moment before shaking her head. "No, no, you're fine, it's okay, I'm not showering. I'm just hiding too."
"Oh," the boy said, slowly lowering his hand to look at her, tilting his head, "Why are you in the bathtub?"
She sighed again, rolling her neck as she explained, "I live here, but my mom made my sister lock my door so I could socialize at the party, but I'm just," her voice cracked as she spoke, breaking her resolve further, "I'm just so not in the mood."
"Oh," the boy said again, and she had to wonder if he just started every sentence that way, "Do you want to talk about it? My mom always said that it helps to talk through things if you're sad. She's not like other Filipino moms. And I'm oversharing."
Brooke laughed shortly at that, watching as the boy closed the door and moved to sit on top of the toilet seat, folding his hands over his lap. She drew farther into her corner, eyes darting between him and the door, unsure of what he was planning.
He must have seen it on her face because he rushed to add, "Oh, wait, don't-don't worry about me, I'm not like that. That's not a cool thing to do ever and I don't support that at all, for guys or girls."
"Okay," she said softly, not quite relaxing, motioning towards the bag of chips, "Want some?"
The boy shook his head, a dopey smile on his face. "No, I'm alright, I'm trying to stay away from unhealthy foods. I'm Ned, by the way."
Recognition came over her in waves and she allowed herself a long, "Oh..." as it all began to make sense, sounding very much like the boy in front of her. "Yeah, I know you, you're on Liz's decathlon team. I'm Brooke."
"Oh, you're her sister!" Ned drawled, nodding to himself, "Okay, that makes sense. I didn't get that, which was weird 'cause you said you lived here. Anyways, why don't you want to go downstairs, it's your party too, right?"
She made a face, shrugging. "Is it, though? Not even my one friend is here, not that she's my friend anymore...I've just had a really bad day."
"I hear you," Ned sighed, shaking his head, "I came here with my friend Peter, right? And he just ditched me. I get that he had important things to do, but...he never wants to hang out anymore and it really sucks."
She frowned, remembering what Liz had said about Peter, a pang of guilt shooting through her as she realized she had done the same to River. "I'm sorry, that must really hurt."
"Yeah," Ned said, "He was like my only friend, we did everything together and it wasn't like we ever fought, we were always on the same page, but he's just getting busy. But anyways, what about that friend you have?"
She shifted, frowning. "You really want to hear about her?"
He shrugged. "You listened to me about Peter, and you seem upset about it. You actually seem upset about a lot of things."
She scoffed, shaking her head. "You have no idea. I really don't have anyone right now."
"Well, I'm here to listen if you want," he offered, reaching out towards the chip bag, offering it towards her, "Want a chip?"
She laughed, reaching into the bag and taking a bite, shaking her head. "It's a really long story, Ned."
He just gave her the same wide smile, adjusting his hat. "I like long stories. I care the most about those."
º º º
Brooke hadn't paid any attention to the time since Ned had arrived, the boy soon climbing into the tub with her, sharing the chips as she told him all about her worries about her dad, and how awful she felt about her mother not knowing how to divide her attention, and about how much she wanted Liz to understand and spend time with her, as well as her problems with River.
"She doesn't sound like a good friend," Ned had interrupted when Brooke told him about her idea of knitting superheroes prints, "Friends are supposed to encourage each other when they have new ideas, not tear them down. Besides, I would totally buy those."
He had listened intently to her lamenting about Liz, not quite understanding because he was an only child, but chipping in where he could. Really, she was just happy he was listening, it didn't really matter to her if he truly understood.
"But your dad," he said, watching as she sighed, having just finished explaining all her worries and suspicions, "That seems really weird."
"Right?" she exclaimed, throwing up her arms, "Thank you! He goes out all the time for "work," but we don't even know what that is! And I mean sure he and my mom seem happy, but you hear about that stuff all the time, you don't know. And he's out of town a lot so even that's really strange."
"That's scary, though, right?" Ned mumbled, trying to pull his knees up to his chest to give her more room to spread out, "That your dad might be cheating on your mom? What'll happen if your mom finds out?"
"I don't know," she sighed, dropping her head onto her fist, elbow propped up on the side of the tub, "I don't want her to find out, but that's not fair to her, or any of us. What if he has an entirely different family with them? That's illegal, right? He could go to jail."
"Well, you don't want that," Ned said, "But what're you gonna do?"
"I don't know," she repeated, shaking her head, "Maybe nothing? But I can't just let him get away with ruining our family like that. And I don't even know if he actually is ruining the family, you know?"
"Yeah, he could just actually be working," Ned said, nodding, "This sounds really tough, Brooke. A lot of my friends seem to be having a lot going on in their lives."
She paused, staring at him for a moment, eyes wide. "I'm your friend?"
He faltered, ducking his head. "Well, I mean, you don't have to be. Really, Peter's my only friend, and I'm kind of a loser, but you seem really nice. But you don't have to be my friend if you don't want to, I'm not really artsy or anything."
"Ned," she interrupted, ducking her head to catch his eye, a large smile slowly playing on her lips, "I'd love to be your friend."
"Really?" he gasped, snapping his head up to stare at her, grinning brightly, "Like, actually?"
"Yeah," she said, grinning as well, a warm feeling spreading through her body, "I don't really have anyone right now, and I don't need art friends. I just need real friends."
"I can be your real friend," he exclaimed eagerly, nearly bouncing with excitement, "This is so great! Wait." He paused, and Brooke's smile faltered, the warmth in her heart dying instantly.
"What?" she breathed, suddenly afraid she had done something wrong; she had just found herself a new friend, one she had been talking to for hours at this point, only for him to be ripped away.
He paused for a moment, thinking. "Are you the person that puts up those paintings in the hallway? I didn't really think it was you, but my friend just told me this major secret, so now I'm thinking that everyone's hiding like a secret identity. Is that you?"
She nearly collapsed with relief, sighing as she leaned back against the tiles, only to pause, scrutinizing him carefully. "Will you tell if I was?"
Ned shook his head, surprisingly serious. "Not if you don't want me to. I mean, I want to, but I can keep a secret." He smiled then, the same dopey smile as always, and Brooke couldn't help but smile back.
"Okay," she said, nodding finally, "Well, I'm glad we've got this settled."
He nodded as well, trying to hide his smile as he held out his hand. "Pleasure doing business with you."
She laughed as she shook his hand, her own small one engulfed by his larger one, pulling away to look over at the empty bag of chips and forgotten bottle of what she still supposed to be vodka.
"Come downstairs with me, I need to return the bottle before I forget."
The two climbed out of the tub, both nearly falling as they bumped into each other, Brooke picking up the bottle while tossing the bag into the trash, Ned gasping as he realized he still needed to find a ride home.
"We could call you an Uber," Brooke offered as they walked down the stairs, pausing when she caught only two signs of movement in the now near-empty living room.
Liz looked up from where she and Harry Osborn were picking up the trash, the sophomore waving to them slightly before continuing to pick up the Solo cups, Liz pausing when she caught sight of Ned next to Brooke.
"Ned," she chirped, smiling at the sight of him, "I didn't know you were still here. Where's Peter, I haven't seen him since he showed up. Or you, though maybe that was more my fault than anything."
"He left right away," Ned explained, shrugging as he followed Brooke downstairs, "He had stuff to do. But it was a great party, Liz."
"Aw, thanks," she cooed, pausing when she realized they still had to clean up, looking around, "Uh, do you have a ride home?"
"No, Peter was supposed to be my ride home, but I don't think he's coming back," Ned admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, giving Brooke optimal time to sneak to the secret door without Liz noticing.
"That's not nice of him," Liz said, frowning, "Just stranding you here. We can call you an Uber, our mom left us ours—"
"Actually," Harry interrupted, stepping forward, phone in hand, "My ride's almost here and I could drop you off at home, Ned. You ever been in a limo?"
The boy gasped with excitement. "No! You have one? That's so cool! Oh, thank you, Liz, that's really nice, you too, Brooke." He turned to smile at the younger Allan sister who was pouring herself a soda.
"He's here," Harry said, turning to Liz, "Sorry I couldn't finish cleaning up, but my dad already thinks I'm a slacker as it is, and it is a school night..."
"Don't worry about it," Liz said, waving him off, "It was nice to meet you, Harry, tell Diana that I hope she feels better, I didn't get her number. You get home safe too, Ned, thanks for coming."
"Thanks for having me," Ned said, giving her his signature smile before rushing over to Brooke, "Could I get your number? As friends I think it makes sense."
She smiled and took the phone out of his hands, creating a new contact and typing in her number, ignoring the way Liz was staring at her with a look that only could be described as pride, handing it back and giving him a smile.
"Have a good night, friend," she said, smiling as he made his way towards Harry.
"You too, friend," he said back, laughing as he tipped his hat to both girls, adding a, "You too, Liz," before following Harry out with a hushed, "Are you really dating Johnny Storm? Because that's so cool!"
Liz shut the door behind them, leaving the two alone. She spun around on her toes, hands pressed against her lips, hiding her smile.
"You made a friend," she said lowly, starting to squeal as Brooke failed to fight her smile, "You made a friend, Brooke, I'm so proud of you!"
Brooke laughed as Liz pulled her into a hug, demanding to know all the details, repeating over and over about how proud she was. Brooke soaked it all in, tamping down the rising thought that this wasn't exactly healing or making things better, merely sweeping their fight under the rug in favor of happier, shinier things.
But she was happy for the moment, so she'd let herself be happy. She made a new friend, after all.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
( 06.20.18 )
tinkertaydust look at me mom I finally got to the point of the plot you gave me it only took almost a year are you proud I'm so sorry
The entire theme song of this chapter is Michael in the Bathroom from Be More Chill, sung by the one and only George Salazar whom I have met and wished I had taken a picture with. Legit when I was watching Hoco, Ned was Michael in that whole party scene. Fucking fight me, I will be more than happy to.
Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!