CHEMICALS

i held your hand

Peter knew he should yell. That he should call for help. Maybe even fight, knock Harry out again.
But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not now. He needed information first.
He needed to know...

"How long have you known?" Peter whispered, eyeing the other's motionless form.

"A while."

"A while," Peter repeated calmly. "What does that mean?"

"When we met at the campus, I've already known."

Peter didn't answer, just stepped closer. Harry stood there as if he'd been glued to the floor. Though his sharp gaze never left Peter's.

"Now, what do you want here?"

"Well– I can't kill you, obviously," Harry said somewhat cheerfully. "But I want to see you suffer."

"I don't think I can help," Peter scoffed. "Now, go. Or I yell."

"No, you won't."

Peter narrowed his eyes. Harry's confident words made him so angry, he wanted to break something. But on the other hand, he knew Harry was right. He wouldn't yell.

"How did you even get here?"

"I won't bore you with the details," Harry waved, then pulled out his 'skateboard' from behind. "But it helped."

"You know, I've always wanted to try that thing out."

"Yeah, Parker, whatever," Harry scoffed. "And I've always wanted to swing from skyscrapers."

Peter didn't know what to say. If he wanted to be completely honest with himself, this whole situation was messed up. It was so absurd. Harry – basically – kidnapped him, tortured him, even stabbed him, then after he escaped, now he was greeted by him in the only place he thought he'd be safe. Just how fucked up is that?

"Harry, please, just... stop," Peter sat down on the bed. "Whatever you're doing, just stop. And leave now."

"And I always thought you were the smart one," Harry chuckled bitterly. "I can't just stop. I can't just leave, Parker. You killed my father."

Peter tensed.

Suddenly he understood what Harry was doing. He wanted revenge, but it was not enough for him to kill his father's killer. Oh, no. He wanted to break him.

And Peter started to think he deserved that. Completely.

He indeed killed Mr. Osborn – the Goblin. He remembered how the masked man fell from the rooftop. He remembered how he debated catching him or not. He remembered his disgusting thoughts.
It wouldn't be so bad if he just let him fall, would it?
Let him die.
The world would be a better place without such a–
And in the end, Peter hadn't caught him.

After that he'd punished himself for a few days, yes, but when the Green Goblin was spotted again, he felt relieved. He was angry of course, but some part of him was relieved, because that meant he wasn't a killer.
Now, it looks like he had been wrong.

He was a killer.
He wasn't better than the Goblin.

Peter looked up at Harry with such pathetic eyes, Harry had to sigh. Finally, Parker's miserable self-deprecation was doing its job, he thought. He was almost afraid Peter wouldn't even be upset that he killed someone. A man.
A man who treated him like his own son.
Harry clenched his fist. He wanted to strangle the boy in front of him. But he also wanted to kill every one of the people in New York.