Chapter Seven: This is Garbage

Anything more than a one-room apartment was a mansion to Peter Parker. So whenever he set foot inside Harry Osborn's penthouse, he could've sworn that he had perished and was dropped at the gates of heaven itself. There were leather chairs. Several of them, might I add. All encircling this really fancy and long wooden table that would make Peter's heart fail immediately if he was ever told how much it cost. It was wood. How expensive is wood? Any idiot off the street could nail four legs to a plank and make a table. Why should this slightly shinier one cost five hundred percent more? And that, ladies and gentlemen, was an example of how being rich was absolutely beyond Peter's understanding.

Not that he wouldn't like to be rich, 'cause he would. He'd love to spend thousands of dollars on a coffee machine as easily as his Aunt May buys groceries with coupons. He also wanted to earn it, and that was the problem. Peter was so busy being Spider-Man that he rarely had any time to focus on starting his own career...or passing college, for that matter.

Peter sported Harry pacing on the other end of the room. His best friend looked over at him, smiled, then pointed to the cell phone that was pressed against his ear. Apparently l, he was in the middle of a call. So much for having a day off...

"No problem, Clancy. We're 3 points up so that can wait until the meeting this Tuesday. I need you to round up the best marketing guys and prepare a campaign for the new projects coming up. How about Friday? Is Friday okay with you, man?" Harry chirped incredibly cheerfully into the phone.

Peter just kind of stood there, unslinging his backpack and holding it in his arms like a baby. The mild-mannered science nerd shuffled over to the way-too-big dining table and lowered himself into the nearest seat.

"How's the family? Oh yeah? So exciting, man. They grow up so fast don't they?" Harry replied with an obviously feigned amount of interest in this random dude's family.

There was this bowl of fruit on the table. Who does that? Who has a bowl of fruit on the table like that? Aside from Ikea catalogues? Why? These questions refracted across the inside of Peter's skull as he reached for an apple. However, due to the stupid table being so stupidly big, Peter's grasp extended further than he could reach. His clumsy fingers pushed down against the rim of the bowl.

The sound that followed would've been an epic drum solo if it wasn't like thirteen pieces of fruit bouncing off the table and onto the marble floor tiles. Peter's eyes widened as he curled his bottom lip inward.

Harry slowly turned to Peter at glanced at him with a look that was the exact opposite of surprised. His eyes darted to the floor, at each piece of fruit, then back at Peter. An amused smirk drew itself across his perfectly handsome face. "Uh it was nothing, Clancy. Probably a cat rummaging around in the alley outside." He quipped mischievously.

Peter would've retorted with the fact that they were currently in a penthouse about fifty storeys up if Harry's phone call wasn't very obviously important. Instead, Peter opted for gathering the plethora of spilt fruit and piling them all back into the bowl.

"Great. See you Friday." Harry said before finally tucking the mobile into his suit pocket and turning to greet his childhood friend. His radiant smile wavered slightly at the sight of the fruit bowl. "Did you just put all that dirty fruit back in the bowl?"

Peter shrugged. "Yeah?"

"That's disgusting." Harry gave an amused huff and reached over to grab the dish. "It's been on the floor, Pete."

"So? Ever heard of the five second rule?"

Harry chuckled. "It's the three second rule, actually."

"Yeah, with your bank account I suppose it is." Peter quipped with a grin. Personally, he never wasted food. Not even if it fell on the floor, or in the dirt...or even in a puddle. He would just wash it off, and in his mind it was perfectly safe to eat. That might sound disgusting, but hey, Pete was too poor to consider throwing things away. "It'll be fine. They look clean enough."

Harry shook his head in disbelief and sauntered towards the fancy bin he kept in the corner of the room. It literally opened when it sensed him stepping towards it, I mean, how cool is that? Peter was convinced that owning that bin in particular was a sign that someone had reached maximum wealth.

Peter jumped over and snatched the fruit bowl before it could be wasted. "There are starving people in Africa, man...in fact, there's starving people in this room right now. Namely me. I'll take it if you won't have it."

"Fine, but don't come crying to me when it makes you sick." Harry watched curiously as Peter wandered back over to his backpack and poured the fruit inside, resting the empty bowl back on the table afterwards. "Seriously though, are you alright? I mean money-wise? Because I'm happy to help-"

"I'm fine." Peter quickly lied. Uncle Ben had taught him from a young age to never accept something that he didn't earn; with so many wealthy friends willing to help, these morals seemed to be the only things keeping him poor...but Peter didn't mind. He preferred the idea of making his own way in life. "I don't want your money, Harry."

"I know. You never did." Harry patted his friend on the shoulder with a smile. "That's why you're my best friend, but I still want to help. I looked your apartment up on street view. It's a hole, man."

"Didn't realise you stalk people, Harry." Peter laughed.

"Well, I wanted to visit but not without knowing which area you were living in now. Remember your last apartment? I almost got mugged four times just trying to walk from my car to the door...which was parked on the curb in front of it."

Peter could remember that day all too clearly. It was a Saturday, and he was inside sketching in one of his college books (a potato with a hat, to be specific). Harry had burst in with a look of absolute rage on his face, and droplets of blood running down his clenched fist. Apparently he had knocked Peter's neighbour out cold after he had threatened Harry with a knife. Yeah... Peter moved out pretty quickly after that. "It builds character."

"Does it? Well that must be the reason you're so broke then. You're always getting robbed."

"Nah." Peter dismissed with a short wave of his hand. "Number one rule of not getting mugged; don't have anything worth stealing."

"That's a fair point. The only thing that you ever had that was worth taking was MJ." Harry gleamed mischievously, as he always did when the topic of Mary-Jane came up. "How's she doing these days anyway?"

"She's good, I think. Dating again." Peter sighed. He had moved on, for the most part, but there was still part of him that missed her. "So you've probably wasted your chance."

Harry whistled. "Man, she was so out of your league."

Okay, that was true. Completely and utterly, undeniably true. Peter still didn't understand why everyone seemed to feel the need to say it out loud though. "Gee, thanks."

Harry wandered over to one of the leather-bound sofas and gracefully rested on top of it. Peter followed suite, but when he slumped into the couch, opposite to Harry, he had all the grace of a flailing tortoise stuck on its back. "Don't take it so personally, Pete. I'm sure you've found some model-esque science nerd to follow around at college."

Peter sighed. "She's an English nerd, actually."

Harry furrowed his brow in sudden bewilderment. It was nice to know that even someone as perfect as Harry Osbourne could look as dumbfounded as everyone else. "But you hated English."

"Just because I hate the subject, doesn't mean I can't be interested in a girl that likes it. I'm not that shallow." Peter shifted in the seat in an attempt to get more comfortable. The material rubbed against his trousers and it made a sound that...well, there's no getting around this. It sounded like a fart. It wasn't though. Not this time at least. "It was the chair."

"Sure it was." Harry snickered. "So, have you asked this girl out yet?"

Peter's gaze fell to his hands. He could still feel her touch from earlier that day. Harry made it all sound so easy, but there was a reason that his relationship with MJ hadn't worked. There was a reason that it would never work. As long as he was Spider-Man, everyone he cared about would be in danger. He didn't want to add Annabelle to that list. "I'm just...trying to focus on college at the moment. I'm working for Dr. Connors every now and then as well, just a lab assistant type deal. I don't really have time for that stuff."

There was a sudden shift in the atmosphere. Harry's expression had darkened and twisted into something all too familiar. Peter gulped. He knew what was going to happen next, he just wished that they could get through one visit without it coming up. "So you're not following that costumed whack-job around anymore?"

"Not exclusively, no." Peter's head pounded with the beginnings of a massive migraine. Somehow, every conversation they had nowadays ended up right here; on the subject of Spider-Man.

"But you're still doing it?"

"Only when I need the money." Peter pushed himself out of the chair, trying not to meet his friend's eyes as he swung his backpack over his shoulder. He hadn't been there very long, but he couldn't stay if this was what they were going to be discussing.

"How can you take photos of that sack of shit?!" Harry's voice reached new volumes, and it echoed throughout the large penthouse just to torture Peter even more. "He killed my dad!"

"You don't know that for sure, Harry."

"Yes I do. I saw him. I know he did it." He snapped back with a low growl. "Why don't you believe me?!"

Harry's distress hurt, and a deeply buried memory of Norman Osborn's lifeless body invaded his mind. It was a day he wished that he could forget. It had changed him, completely and forever, but he hadn't killed Norman. He could never have done something so cruel on purpose... "I gotta go, Harry. I'll see you later."

Peter shivered at the recollection of his fight with Norman, then known as Green Goblin, and moved towards the exit; desperate to escape his own mind. He had barely made it to the door when Harry yelled out "I'm...sorry, Pete. You've always been there for me, and I know that it's not your fault. I shouldn't be taking it out on you."

Peter glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "I know. It's alright."

The college student then reached for the door handle and pulled it open. Again, as he adjusted his bag on his back and stepped out of the penthouse, Harry spoke. "Do me a favour, yeah? Ask that girl out."

Peter Parker did not ask her out. He did what he always did; run around New York wearing a stupid costume and punching people for jaywalking. Okay well not jaywalking. Maybe crossing the street without looking though. By the time he was done with defusing a dangerous car chase among other really fun things, it was dark out.

When the webhead returned to his secret lair, the one-room apartment in the really bad side of town with rent that costs way more than it should, he dropped into his bed and stared at the wall for a good twenty minutes. "People really need to stop crossing the street without looking both ways." He muttered to himself, recalling the thirty times he had to swing someone to safety that day for being stupid and not watching for cars, then berate them for being irresponsible. You guys know how Peter gets about responsibility, he's like Elon Musk when you mention Mars. The moral of this paragraph is to look both ways before you cross. If you don't do it, he'll come for you. Like it says in that catchy theme song: 'look out, here comes the Spider-Man'. He's coming. He's coming for you and your jaywalking habits.

Right now, though, the only thing Spider-Man was coming for was his shitty fridge that encrusted everything in the freezer in a layer of ice thicker than Flash Thompson's skull. Crime-fighting all day makes a man hungry, and thankfully he now had a fridge full of fruit that he had packed up earlier that evening.

Peter's eyes were half shut as he yanked the fridge door open. He smacked his lips wearily as he reached for a handful of perfectly green grapes (because, if it weren't already obvious, Harry didn't eat anything that wasn't perfect), and shoved them into his mouth all at once.

"Oh god. Oh my god that's so good. Oh I love you, ground fruit. I'm sorry you had to die." Peter mumbled to himself.

With that he carelessly slammed the fridge door closed. Suddenly, Peter remembered that he had forgotten to put his garbage out. "Ugh..." He moaned, shutting his eyes.

Several minutes later, Peter was standing in front of his apartment wearing Fantastic 4 pyjamas and staring at a motorcycle that took up the only space on the entire block that wasn't already taken by other bins or fire hydrants. There have been times where he didn't have his bin right on the edge of the curb. Those times, he returned home to find a full garbage can waiting for him. It was so satisfying.

Right now, this motorbike was just sitting there mocking him. 'Ha ha, despite all your power Spider-Man, you cannot defeat me! Your quest to dispose of that waste matter shall go unfulfilled, for I have finally done what the Sinister Six could not! Without any means to dispose of that garbage, you will be forced to wallow in your own sadness until you die! I have destroyed you, Spider-Man! Muhahahaha!' It cackled. Peter stood there staring at it blankly, trash can sitting next to him, as confused pedestrians started crossing the street to avoid the weirdo wearing pants with Mr Fantastic's face plastered all over them.

Reluctantly, Peter took a couple steps up to the bike and glanced around. The crowds were thinning...so he thought that perhaps, it was time to let loose his true strength. He leant down to pick up the motorbike but was stopped when he heard someone yell "Hey! Kid!"

He rolled his eyes, stood back up and saw that a fairly large biker guy was stomping over to him. "What the hell are you doin', boy? Tryin' to rip off my bike? Goddamn college students."

Peter curled his lips in suppressed frustration as the biker shoved into his shoulder on his way over to the vehicle. The man vaulted onto the bike, spat at Peter's feet, then roared off on the obnoxiously loud thing like he was trying to get as close to every single object in sight without actually hitting them. It was actually quite impressive.

With a deep sigh, Peter lifted his trash can and placed it right where it belonged. In his usual spot. With a weak smile, Peter planted his hands onto his hips and took a step back. Slowly, but too fast for Peter to react, so it seems, the can toppled over onto the street. The black garbage bag fell slightly out of the metal container. Then, a car whizzed by.

Peter's weekly garbage, including disposed meat, eggs, and other really smelly things, was sprayed all over the street as the car's tyre shredded open the bag. Peter's right eye twitched intensely.

There also, as if the universe had not yet fulfilled what was required of it, came a shrill cry from across the street. "The Fantastic Four sucks balls!!"

The college student glanced at the floor and exhaled heavily.