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The swing creaked as the brunette sat down silently. Her black dress hikes halfway up her thigh. She places the jacket in her hand on the left seat, right next to her. Her green eyes stare at it for awhile before turning back to the ground. The girl softly sways on the swing. She kicks off the too small black flats and lets her feet drag along the mat underneath. Some strands hair falls down by her face, obstructing her sight with long dark curls. 

There's a loud shout and her head shoots up, hair flying back. Eyes search frantically. A flash of red hair catches her eye. It's a teenage girl along with some others. Other than that, the park is empty. Just the group of teenagers, but they are far away. Wanda doubts they notice her. Much less hear her. Why are they even here? She wishes it was just her ... and Pietro. That isn't possible anymore, though. 

It's early still-ish. To be honest, the girl has no idea what time it is, but the sun is still coming up. It's also Sunday. People will be arriving after church, little kids in dresses and nice clothes, ready to play all day before school. 

School. Sh*t. Wanda had forgotten about that for a minute. She starts Excelsior High in August. 'Bout three months. Great. Just great. Pietro and her had a plan for their first year at a new school. They are going to be juniors. She will be a junior. Well really, he had a plan for her. To stop camoflauging into the walls whenever someone talks. To try and get to know more people. To go to at least one party. To have fun. It's a new school. More people. They aren't going to be surrounded by the same idiots anymore. That's what Pietro had said. They were going to be surrounded by maybe, more idiots, but not all will be the same and they can be who they want to be again. Perfect plan. Pietro's perfect plan. And there is no way Wanda can do this. She promised him she would, though. So she will, she will try.

Her feet dance along the mat as she thinks. Promises again to try. Slowly swinging, Wanda closes her eyes. Hair sweeping the sides of her face. The wind cool against her wet cheeks. She hadn't even noticed the tears. Higher and higher she swings. Trying to escape to the past. Wind swishes in her ears, it flicks her curls forward, dries the wetness on her face, stings her reddened eyes. Wanda lets it. Half-wishing she could be anywhere but there, half-wishing she hadn't ran.

Minutes pass, about a hour yet it feels like seconds. The sun rises and the sky turns a soft blue. Higher and higher, she swings. Only to be interrupted by the one person who has actually been there for her lately. Clint. 

"Wands?" He is walking over from the parking lot. Purple jacket, hood covering his messy blonde hair, green eyes. Yep. F *ck. It's Clint. There's a dark gray sport jacket over his arm, brown boat shoes on his feet. 

Wanda ignores him. Acting like she doesn't hear, wishing he won't come over. 

Of course, that just means that he will definitely come over.

"Wanda?" Sighing, Wanda digs her heels in and drag her feet to slow down. She refuses to make eye contact.

"Wands, it's over. People are at your house now, I think. You can stay here if you want. It'll be fine. I won't tell. I don't know what's happening." Clint sighs heavily. "I'm not going to leave you here alone, though. Wanda ..."

"I made it worse, didn't I. Leaving. H * ll, not even arriving to my brother's funeral. I'm a bad person, ain't I. I should've stayed. Actually, nevermind I know, nobody even noticed I was gone, right? Not until speeches or something. " Wanda's green eyes track his shoes as she speaks. Her voice wavers, her throat dry. Clint walks closer to her, giving her space still.

"No, they did notice." 

"Great, so I'm going to get yelled at when I get home. Awesome. I'm sorry. I'm being sh * tty. I shouldn't have ran." She looks up at him finally. Her eyes soften a bit by the emptiness of his own.

"Well, it wasn't the best ..." Clint reasoned giving her a look. Wanda shakes her head. "It wasn't and I've been ignoring you and sh * t. I don't know. I just, I don't know!" Her whole body is trembling now. She's mad, mad at herself, mad at the world. It's all her fault, or at least it will be. It's all because of her.

"It isn't your fault." Clint says reaching out to hug her. They've formed a somewhat sibling bond. 

"Since, when could you read minds? That's my thing." The brunette looks up. Raising her eyebrow sarcastically.

"Wanda ... Say it. Say it isn't your fault. I know you are blaming yourself. Say it." Clint gives her a look. 

"It isn't my fault." Wanda nods slowly. 

"It isn't your fault." He repeats softly. 

"It isn't your fault, either." Her green eyes connect with his knowingly.

"It isn't our faults." 

"It isn't our faults."

(No it isn't their faults at all. It was the stupid drunk driver who decided to ram into a car clearly marked with student driver stickers on the sides !!!!!! * clears throat * yeah, its that guy's fault: D)

"I don't want to go to a different school anymore." The brunette stands up, leaving his arms and picks up the jacket that had been sitting beside her. She runs a slender finger up and down the white pattern on the sleeves. 

"Same" Clint admitted. He had already been going to Excelsior, but he still didn't want to go back. 

They stand in silence for some time. Wanda plays with her brother's jacket. Clint smiles and put the black jacket around her shoulders, covering her eyes. Then, he takes off his boat shoes and places them by her flats and his jacket. Next, he pokes her arm and runs away yelling. "Come on, let's play. The floor is lava!"

"Clint!" Despite herself, Wanda grins softly. It's something Pietro would do. He would've loved it too. She chases after him, only to be trapped Clint by the stairs. He wouldn't move claiming that he didn't trust stairs. "They're always up to something!" Clint says suspicously, causing the brunette to cringe a bit, smiling.