Chapter Text
I love romance books. The real cheesy soapy kind. And, well, I’m reading a really good one when my younger sister throws a pillow at my face.
“Mo!” I shout.
“Are we hanging out or what?!” Morgan asks defensively.
“Just- let me finish this chapter,” I beg.
Suddenly, a crashing sound comes downstairs from the kitchen.
My older sister, Sarah, walks by to my room.
“Should we help him?” I ask, not really wanting to know the answer to the question one way or another.
“You know how stubborn he is y/n. He wants to do it himself,” says Sarah, “but, we can help set the table!”
Mo rolls her eyes and I grunt, getting up off my bed, I put my book away, and head downstairs.
“I hate when dad cooks,” Mo moans, “it always tastes like butt.”
“Hey,” Sarah scolds, “regardless, I want you to take a bite and say ‘Mm, just like mom’s’. Okay?”
“I was still eating baby food when mom died though!”
As I set the table a knock comes from the door. In walks Brad Davis.
“Hey!” he greets. Brad’s thick, straight, black hair is a little tossed and messy. His dark brown eyes are a little tired.
“Hey, Brad!” Mo waves.
“I’m not too late am I? I, uh, tried meditating but I, um, ended up falling asleep.”
Brad kisses Sarah and high-fives me on his way to the kitchen.
“Smells great Mr. Stark!”
“Hey Brad!” my dad greets him.
***
Dinner’s awkward tonight. It’s taking Dad way too long to cut the meat.
“It’s supposed to fall off the bone,” I murmur.
“Hey, Brad. Come here and hang on to this while I saw,” my dad commands.
“Ye-” starts Brad, but he’s off by Sarah.
“Hey! You know what?! This is Stark industry, we have a vibranium knife in the kitchen. It’ll have that thing ready to eat in like two seconds.”
Sarah then gets up and takes the log of meat into the kitchen.
“I can’t believe we’re not going to see her until Thanksgiving!” says Mo.
“Actually,” Dad coughs, “Sweetie, we won’t see her until Christmas.”
I drop the fork I’m fiddling with.
“Are you kidding me? We won’t see her until Christmas!?”
“Well sweetheart, Wakanda is just too far away to come home for just Thanksgiving.
“Let’s look on the bright side,” Dad says, noticing my and Mo’s faces of disdain, “With Sarah not using the car anymore, you’ll have time to practice your driving!”
“Oh my gosh, I forgot! I have to drive with y/n!” Mo whines.
“You can take the bus,” I retort.
“Hey,” Brad chimes in, “I’m not going anywhere, I’m still next door, I can give you a ride.”
Mo says, “Ooooor I can drive. And if we get pulled over, y/n and I can switch seats in the car!”
Dad laughs, “Top-notch idea Mo!”
“What’d I miss?” asks Sarah, dishing us up some of what I assume to be meat.
“We were talking about how bad of a driver y/n is!”
I make a face at Mo.
“Yeah,” says Brad, “but we were also talking about airplanes, which, uh, speaking of. I have a surprise for you!” Brad pulls out of his pocket a plane ticket to Wakanda. “Since you can’t be home for Thanksgiving, I thought I’d bring it home to you,” Brad smiles.
Sarah's face sinks. The opposite reaction I would’ve had if Brad had done something like that for me. Sarah’s lack of a reaction makes Brad start talking more.
“I-it’s a plane ticket, I’m coming to Wakanda.”
“Hey! Look at Brad stepping up,” Dad says, patting Brad on the back, almost too hard.
“You...You already paid for this?” Sarah stutters. This is weird, Sarah never stutters.
“Uh, yeah, I mean ever since you said you were going, I set a Google alert for plane tickets to Wakanda.”
Tension fills the room. Even Dad feels it.
“Why?” Brad asks with worry in his eyes.
Sarah cleared her throat.
“Mm, just like Mom’s,” Mo said, softly pointing to her dinner plate, attempting to ease the tension.
I guess I should tell you a little about Brad. He and Sarah have been together for the past two years, but before Sarah even cared that he existed, he was my first boyfriend. Well, space between the words. Boy who was a friend. I could talk to him about anything. We really understood one another.
I once asked Brad if he’d rather only drink water for the rest of his life, or if he could drink whatever he wanted but it has to have a drop of pee in it?
Brad said, “Pee, definitely pee. I can’t give up Mountain Dew.”
“Yeah definitely,” I replied, “pee’s the only answer.”
We didn’t stop being friends with Brad and Sarah got together, it was just different. I asked the same question the next year and Sarah said, “Water, definitely water.”
Brad agreed.
They didn’t want me to feel left out, so they invited me everywhere...even on dates. They tried to make it as normal as possible but I still felt like a third wheel.
It’s not that I wanted to steal my sister’s boyfriend or anything. I was super happy for Sarah. She deserves a great guy like Brad. And so I wrote him a letter. I wasn't going to send the letter, or anything, it was just for me to understand how I was feeling.
But really, I guess it was mainly about how sometimes I imagined what it would’ve been like if I’d realized how I felt about him sooner.
My letters are my most secret possessions. There are five total; Flash from summer camp; Peter from seventh grade; Ned from homecoming; Elijah “Eli” from Young Avengers; and Brad.
I write a letter when I have a crush so intense, I don’t know what else to do. Rereading my letters reminds me of how powerful my emotions can be, how all-consuming.
Sarah would say I’m being dramatic but I think a little drama can be fun. Just as long as nobody else knows about it.
***
Brad and Sarah left the dinner table to go talk outside while the rest of the family cleaned up. They were still talking when we were done. I went to me room to reread some of my letters, specifically...Brad's.
“What’re you doing?” asks Sarah.
“Nothing!” I say, putting the letters I’m looking at back into the box Mom gave me before she died.
Sarah drops an empty moving box in my room and comments, “Your room’s a mess.”
She’s now lying on my bed in an almost fetal position.
I climb in and join her.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Sarah replies, “well, I don’t know, I just broke up with Brad.”
“You did what?! Why?” How could Sarah break up with Brad? What did he do to deserve such a fate?
Sarah takes a breath, “Right before Mom died, she said I should never go to college with a boyfriend.”
“But you love him.”
“Mh, I know.”
There’s a pause.
“So, do you think you might change your mind?” I ask.
Sarah’s solemn and she considers my question, gets up, and says, “No. No, it’s over.” She sighs and continues, “When I was packing for college I had Dad make a box of things to take to Goodwill. I think you should do it too, I made you a box.” she jesters to the cardboard box she brought in with her.
I look around my room.
“I don’t really think there’s anything I can part with at the moment,” I reply.
“Y/N, I’m leaving tomorrow. That means you’re going to be the biggest sister. You need to set a good example for Mo. No gorging on chips before dinner, or using vibranium for jewelry. More importantly, a clean room.”
I roll my eyes but I know she’s right.
“Can we go back to talking about how you’re sad?”
Sarah sighs and then laughs.