To put it shortly, he didn't know what he was doing. He went to the nightclub as much as possible, so at least five times a week, stretching to ten. At first, it was rather innocent, Harry drinking a little bit, enjoying the buzz, dancing with strangers. And then it all went down hill.
Harry was a weak person. He fell under the curse of alcohol all too quickly. Way too quickly. He was fifteen when it got out of control, going to parties and clubs until he couldn't remember his name, and only cared for the hot girl or guy rubbing themselves against him. He loved the feeling of freedom.
After Emily died when he was 11, he had fallen into a spiral, one that wasn't tended by his father, who grew apart from Harry and neglected him. May treated him right. Gave him food. A place to sleep. Rest. Relaxation.
But it wasn't enough.
It wasn't enough.
He was sixteen when he had his first night stand. He awoke in a random man's house with a startled sound and an ache in his rear. He fled, wearing his clothes wonky, sunglasses on his nose. His throat was sore.
The next day, he walked into school with a small limp.
"Hey, Har." Peter greeted, offering such a innocent smile a pool of guilt flooded Harry's stomach.
"Hey." His voice was fucked, cracked and pained. Hickeys were over his neck. Luckily, he had a turtle neck.
Peter's brows shot in concern. "You feeling okay? You sound like you smoke a pack a day."
Harry inwardly laughed. He had started smoking lately.
"Oh? Yeah. I'm fine. Just a sore throat."
"What's with the glasses, turtle neck and messy hair? Look like an emo Steve Jobs."
Harry let out a small laugh. He lied to his friend, saying his head was just hurting. Peter believed him.
Next week, he was drunk again. This time, at home. It was weird, being at home instead of at Peter's. May's apartment was his home, really. He stayed there most of the time, and he loved it there, the homely feel. It was so small but so telling and homely... Unlike his home. So spacious, large, expensive. Nothing indicated a family. Just a singular painting that haunted Harry, staring at him, judging him. His dead mother, and his neglectful father.
Dad was at work, not coming back into the late AMs, so Harry made use of it and opened the liquor cabinet. He drank. And drank. And drank. When was there three bottles on the floor? He couldn't remember. His phone buzzed.
Pete: Hey, Har! How you feeling?
There was a pause. Harry remembered he usually signed off his messages with his name as a joke.
Peter: you sure? You've been looking kinda ill, lately. Dude. If you need anything please just ask.
Harry: I'm fine. Thanks tho
He didn't use shortened words unless excited. He put his phone down. The world swayed. He stumbled, holding the phone in a vice grip, and landed on his bed. He felt sick. His head hurt. This wasn't relaxing anymore. His throat was aching, burning, throbbing, and oh god he was so close to--
"Blerghh!" He threw up onto his floor and moaned loudly, his head absolutely pounding.
Harry: can. H come over
Peter: I'll be right there, Har.
He passed out.
When he woke up, he was in his pyjamas and his lips had been cleaned, his head ached in hangover.
“Harry, what the hell?” Peter’s voice came, loud and clear, and Harry groaned.
“Ohmigod... please... Ugh... shh...” he flailed a hand and he felt it graze Peter skin. “Shh... my head is so... fuck...”
“You... you idiot.” Peter hissed, his hand coming to Harry’s hair, stroking gently. “What were you doing? You’re not legally allowed to drink yet! And.. and you were alone! What if something happened to you, Harry?” He snapped in a hushed tone. Harry still clenched his eyes.
“You won’t understand.”
“Y-... you... you won’t...” Harry was slipping again, the hand on Peter’s leg relaxed.
“Harry.” Peter said. He sounded disappointed.
The teen managed to open his eyes again and yawn, staring up at Peter’s face. He looked worried. Harry only smiled and his hand cupped his cheek. “C’mere...” he patted his side. After some hesitance, Peter got in beside him, and pulled Harry to his chest. “Oh, Har...”
Harry fell asleep, comforted by the warmth of Peter.
“Are you going to that party?” A girl, Betty, asked.
“Most likely. Am I invited?”
“Hell yeah. You can be my plus one.” She clung to his arm and her voice went slightly higher, seductive. Harry blinked.
“Oh? Okay then, I’ll be there.” He lowered his own, winking. She blushed and bit her lip.
He felt... uncomfortable. Girls were...
“Harry?” Someone asked, and Harry turned around. His hand slipped from Betty and he looked back at her. She grinned, “be there!” And walked away.
“Hey, Pete.” He greeted simply and fluffed his light brunet hair. Peter didn’t smile- no, he frowned. “You’re going to a party?”
“Yeah. I was invited.” He snorted and began walking to his class, Peter trailing behind him. However, Peter was quickly getting taller than him. Not yet, though. Harry was still lankier than Peter.
“Har...” he said, his hand on his arm, making Harry’s heart jump to his throat and go red. “C’mon... why don’t you come home with me, tonight. We can... watch Star Wars and eat some of May’s wheat cakes...” he tried, his fingers tightening.
“Pfft? Star Wars? You hate Star Wars.”
“I’d watch it for you.”
It was so simple, but made his whole body go red, and Harry looked away, hiding his face. No. No. Don’t blush, now.
“I was invited by Betty. I already said I’d go. Don’t you worry about it, Pete. You can come if you want.” He only shook his head, “I have homework to do... you sure you don’t wanna come round. We can do the chemistry together.”
Harry laughed a little. Chemistry. Together. How ironic...
“No, no. But thank you.” He grinned largely, fuzzing his hair yet again, and licked his lip.
Peter stared at it for a moment.
Harry made eye contact with Peter, eyes falling to his lips a moment later. There was a pause. A pause of pure silence. And then Harry looked away and smiled again, “see you later, yeah?”
“Y-Yeah... I guess.”
Betty’s lips tastes like cheap beer.
They were also very clumsy.
Harry found out a lot about himself at that drunken party, and he felt sick when the girl kissed him. And when he pulled away, looking dazed but apologetic, she looked angry, flushed, and ran away.
“Wait!” Harry yelled, hand out stretched. She didn’t, though, and disappeared out the door, through the crowds of intoxicated teens.
He sat down.
Why did he feel sick?
It was just kissing, and to be fair, she wasn’t even that bad. Harry was being dramatic again, wasn’t he? God, he hated it. Maybe it was the alcohol... Yeah. Definitely. The alcohol.
Speaking of, he stood from the couch and wandered to the punch, drinking the whole cup in one go. His eyes stung and he pulled back. And for a moment, he felt no changes. And everything got hazy real fast, making the room spin and the tingly feeling in the back of his head and eyes grow more. He stumbled ever so slightly, his back falling against someone’s chest.
He looked back, out of it. He recognised features of a strong boy, nice chest, hands... and Harry felt something against his ass. He gasped, face red, and he began to grind back. He felt arousal flood him, the hands of the stranger coming to his stomach, moving their own cock against his trousers.
Harry gasped again, eyes closing, letting the music flood over him, bathe his problems and guilt to a soft stop. He felt good. The hand on his stomach lowered, cupping his bulge, and he moved his hips right into it, moaning.
“Fuck... teasing me like that.” The stranger’s voice whispered in his ear, causing shivers down Harry’s spine.
“Hmmfn...” Harry tried.
“Let’s go somewhere more private, yeah?”
Harry could only nod, and the warm hold on his dick leaving, and he was drunkenly lead to what he found to be a bathroom. He was pressed against the sink, and Harry accepted bending over, panting, moaning. The man locked the door, and then began to take off Harry’s shirt.
“Wait.” Harry murmured. The hands stopped.
“Waittt... you’re a guy.”
Good question. So what? Who cared? He certainly didn’t. He let the shirt come off, and the grinding was back, and a hand slipped right into his trousers, and before they reached his dick, he hissed a, “stop.”
“What?” The guy asked, pissed now.
“Stop... I don’t want this... I’m only sixteen.” He said, looking back at him, acutely aware of how his skinny frame was on such a sensual display. He really didn’t want to have sex at that moment. For some reason.
His expression flickered with annoyance and he pulled his lower half back. “Fine,” he said, sourness absolutely taunting his tone. He left quickly, leaving Harry confused, shaking, and rock hard.
Harry: Pete -Harry
Peter: Yep!!How’s the party?
Peter: are you drunk?
Peter: where are you? I’ll come and grab you.
Harry: I’m still @ the party
Peter: I’ll be right there
Harry: bathroom. come qujnck
Harry: Peter where r u
Harry: im fickin really hard and like
Harry: need you
Harry: fuckk I want more
Peter: I’m there. Are you still in the bathroom?
Peter: where are you?
Harry: living room? kitchen?? this house is big
Harry: libing room.
Peter peaked in to the large house cautiously. He heard faintly go ‘Parker!’ with surprise. Peter didn’t go to parties. It was too loud. His over sensitive hearing easily made it for him to have sensory overloads. The drinks wouldn’t effect him (that much), so he didn’t see the appeal.
He entered the living room. It was absolutely packed with students he was familiar with, all dancing- if you could even call it that. Grinding was more like it. Girls grinding their asses against horny boys, guys peppering kisses up girl’s necks, their collar bones, their jaws. Peter averted his eyes. He didn’t want this. He stalked through the crowds, saying gentle ‘excuse me’s as he passed. God. Where was Harry? He said he was here, didn’t he?
Peter: where exactly?
He didn’t get any response. Sucking it up, Peter licked his lip and dug in more, eyeing the place up. Where was he...?
He focussed his hearing on voices.
‘Omigod she’s been sick!’
‘That little bitch just fuckin’ teased me, so we went to the bathroom to fuck, and he just... ugh. Looked at me with his cute eyes and was like ‘stop’. Fuckin little bitch.’
Peter focussed it on that, frowning.
“Woah, man, really? Jeez. He was totally eyeing you up the whole time.” One said.
“Nah, he kissed that girl. Betty, I think?” Another stated.
“No, he started to press his little fucking ass against me and was gasping and everything. God, he was so lucky it was me. Another person would have taken advantage of his drunken fuckin’ state...”
Peter found the source of the voice and frowned. He recognised this boy... he was from the year above.
“Do you know his name, dude?”
“Uhh... Harry, I think. Yeah, Osborn’s kid.”
Peter’s heart stopped.
Before he realised what he was doing, he was over there in a matter of seconds, “Harry Osborn? Do... do you know where he is?”
“Nah. That twink was in the bathroom. Dunno if he still is, though.” He growled back, and Peter swallowed down his anger. Calling Harry names, degrading him, being so rude to him... He felt the anger build, and he gulped again. “Right. Okay. Thanks...”
A hand grabbed his arm. It was the guy again.
“But.. you’re pretty cute. You up for anything...” and the arm went around his waist.
Peter went red, “What? No! No! No way... uhh... just came here lookin’ for my friend.”
“I can be more than your friend, darling...” he murmured, and Peter shuddered, was sick to find the arousal start to make his dick hard. He pulled away roughly, “no. Thank you and good night.”
He wandered away, now on high alert and aware of how much he felt itchy. God. No. No. No.
He then turned again, and his eyes fell on Harry... and Harry was pinned against the wall, aggressively rubbing himself against a man’s leg, who was whispering into his ear. They were both drunk out of their minds. Peter froze where he stood, watching Harry’s brows furrow, watching how his lips parted as he panted and moaned.
‘Fuck.. so good...’ Harry was moaning.
Peter had tuned in unknowingly.
‘Please... fuck.. a—Ah...’
‘Oh, Harry. You look so fuckin’ good right now, if we weren’t here I’d bend you over and fuck you until you couldn’t even walk.’
Peter gasped and fell back against a wall, a few dancers covering the scene of his groaning friend.
Problem one: Harry needed to leave before he did something he regretted.
Problem two: Peter was hard.
He walked over there, hand on the man’s shoulder. “Please, my friend’s drunk. I need to take him home.” Peter said, voice flat.
“What?” He snapped, turning around.
Harry looked even more dazed, eyes half closed. “Huh? Pe... Peter! Peter...” he murmured.
Peter ignored it, though he shivered, hearing how airy and in love he sounded while he whispered his name.
“Yeah. He’s my friend. He needs to go home.”
He shoved his hand away, and stormed passed Peter while shouldering him. He glared, but Peter stared at Harry, who was panting, eyes heavy, looking down Peter like he was a slab of meat.
It was strangely hot.
Harry fell forward, nose against Peter’s neck. “Missed you.”
“Yeah. Okay. Lets go home.”
“If you want. I wanted to bring you back to May’s.”
“Hmm... she’s got... she’s got nice food.”
Peter shrugged awkwardly, ignoring Harry’s... problem against his leg.
“L-let’s get you home.”
“You’re so pretty...” he whispered.
Peter wrapped an arm around him and began to take him out of there.
“So, so... so pretty... like... an angel...”
“Hmm? An angel?” Peter couldn’t help but smile as he managed to manoeuvre them out of the house. He realised... fuck. He didn’t bring a car. The walk would take about... what? Half an hour, and Peter didn’t know how long he could take averting his eyes from Harry’s crotch. It made him feel weak in the knees.
“Yeah! You’re like an angel, like, personali...pers... personality wise, too.”
“Like... sent from God... I’m not religious... but... you make me wanna c—... consider it...”
“You’re so nice!”
Peter was silent.
“Your ass is nice.”
“Dude, what the fuck?” Peter laughed uncomfortably.
“Like... squidgy...” As if to prove his point, his hand came to Peter’s ass, cupping it, while he smiled.
“Harry, get off.” Peter said, “you’re drunk.”
“Drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts... I... is that the phrase? Hm. But the point is...”
“What?” After the long pause, Peter looked at Harry, who looked dazed and eyes were far away.
Twenty minutes later, he had grabbed a cab, and Harry was leaning right up against Peter, head in neck and calmly breathing. The hero had an arm around the smaller boy, staring out the window. Any minute now...
“I love you.”
Peter smiled. “I know.”
“Was... was that a Star Wars reference? Just for me?”
“Yeah. Even if I hate the series, I love you.” He said and ever so lightly kissed his forehead. Strictly platonic kissing.
“Hmm... I love the way your lips feel...”
Then silence fell over them again.
Peter subtly noted Harry’s problem had faded and he felt relief seep into him. “We’re gonna get in. May’s asleep, so be quiet. I’ll get you a glass of water, then we’re sleeping, okay?”
“In the same bed?”
“...you’re the one who stopped us sleeping in the same bed.” Peter said, a bitter tone befalling him.
“‘M... ‘m sorry.”
“It’s okay... why don’t you come to May’s instead of a party next time.”
“Honestly, Harry, I’m worried about you... ever since Emily...” he paused and licked his lip. “I just think you should get some help or something... Maybe I can get you a counsellor. What am I saying? You could get a professional psychiatrist with barely any of your pocket money...”
Harry didn’t respond. He had fell asleep on his shoulder.
Peter sighed a little, breathing through his nose, before gently kissing his forehead. They stopped outside his small New York apartment and he picked Harry up (bridal style). After taking care of him, he lied down beside him, wrapped his whole form around him, and fell asleep shortly after.
“Love you, Har.” He said as darkness consumed him.