Chapter 7

It's Friday.

Usually, Harry would be relieved. He's been at university all week, trying to catch up on his lectures and work on all his impending assignments which are weighing all too presently on his mind. Not to mention that he's still overwhelmed from his stint at Oscorp on Monday. That had been… interesting, to say the very least. Not from any effort on Norman's behalf however (hell, those board-meetings…), but rather from Peter's strange appearance, and then the fact that Norman's behaviour had seemed all the more erratic in forcing him there in the first place.

Then there was the matter of Spider-Man.

He'd been… quiet recently. Well, not on the streets - in fact, he'd been more involved than ever with reports streaming in from every dark corner of the internet dedicated to Spider-Man Spotting. No, what worried at Harry was that Spider-Man hadn't talked to him.

And he knew he was being silly, because really? How many people were there in Manhattan alone? And how many of those people were getting into trouble – fistfights, gas leaks, car accidents, the like! It was mayhem and no wonder there were so many wanna-be vigilantes running about the place! So why on earth would someone like Spider-Man, who had all that to worry about, make time for Harry?

Answer – he wouldn't. It only made sense. There was no reason, absolutely no reason, for Harry to feel so dejected. It was childish and stupid and just - ughhh.

God, he should know better.

So, all in all, he's pretty damn exhausted. Nevertheless, here he is, in some quaint coffee shop in Midtown not far from his and Peter's old high school. He isn't sure if it's sentiment or just convenience on Peter's end.

It's been so long, that Harry can't quite help feeling nervous. The café is a familiar place, but even that isn't enough to stave off the empty feeling deep in his gut. He isn't sure if he wants to run right back out through the door or just continue waiting for Peter to show up. Hmmm… maybe he should just order a peppermint tea and leave it at that. With the way his stomach was acting, he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep anything else down.

Why the hell did he order this whipped-cream monstrosity of a coffee? What the hell had he been thinking? If there was ever a time to build a time machine and slap Past-Harry in the face for wasting six bucks then this was it.

"Har!"

Harry looked up, only to see Peter jogging towards the table, very nearly bowling over one of the waitresses in the process. Not surprisingly.

"Hey, Pete."

"Sorry, I'm a bit late –" Peter said, breathing noticeably ragged as collapsed in the seat opposite Harry. "I forgot I had to deliver some letters for Aunt May, and then I went down the wrong street, so I had to go back and actually go down the right one with the post-box, and then I was late for my train, so I just ran here-"

"You ran here? Seriously?"

"Never said I was smart, Har." Peter said, shooting finger guns at him with a wry grin on his face.

"Uh, huh. Yep. Just send me a text next time, you dolt."

"No problem, Har, now tell me, have you ordered already?"

"I waited, like a decent human being," Harry said, chin in the air.

"You ordered a coffee already didn't you."

"Absolutely." Harry said, taking a sip from the creamy abomination and instantly regretting it.

"I've missed you," Peter said, still smiling, and now making Harry's gut feel worse than ever.

"Me too," Harry said, very nearly choking on the words. God, being emotional was freaking awful.

"So, how's life in general?" Peter asked, breaking into a topic more comfortable for the both of them.

"Not that different," Harry said, "Though, I think Dad is going senile-"

It was then that Peter's phone buzzed loudly, shaking the table and spilling drops of the iced-drink-from-hell over the tabletop. Not that Harry was sad about that – getting interrupted though, that was just a little bit annoying. Peter grinned apologetically before tapping away the notifications on his phone.

"Sorry – so, what's Norman up to now?"

"He's gotten so paranoid. It's unbelievable." Harry said, laughing now; "You know how I was at Oscorp on Monday? Well, Dad approached me the other day and started interrogating me. Asking me if I'd seen anything funny going on."

"And what did you tell him?" Peter asked, face oddly blank.

"Well, I said no – 'cus I hadn't seen anything weird, except for that creepazoid Alistair." Harry shuddered, brushing away invisible hands from his shoulders. "But, yeah, anyway, Dad keeps acting like everyone is out to get him, and he keeps moping around the apartments and muttering-"

Peter's phone buzzed again, once more spilling Harry's abandoned coffee over the table and making the both of them jump. Even growing up alongside the invention and mainstream distribution of smartphones did nothing to prepare one for an oncoming message on said phones.

Peter looked at his notifications this time, frowning, before once again switching off the screen.

"- so yeah," Harry finished, still looking at the phone as he laid napkins out over the coffee spills; "So, what about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, how is Aunt May? What have you both been up to?"

"Well-"

For the third time, the phone buzzed, only this time, it kept on ringing, making the table shake and drawing both of their attention to it. Peter immediately picked it up, and unlocked the phone, only to stare at the screen. Harry bit his lip, trying to not let it annoy him, and failing.

For a good moment, Peter's eyes flicker uncertainly between his phone and Harry. As if he were choosing between the two.

"Umm, is it alright if-"

"Just answer it."

Harry doesn't bother to keep the venom from his voice. It was happening again. Peter Parker still didn't have time for him – not even a half-hour coffee date. No, as usual, Peter had more important matters and clearly more important friends to see. Yes, Peter hadn't changed at all, and like a goddamn fool, Harry had fallen for it again.

"O-okay." Peter stuttered, hands fumbling. He holds the phone up to his ear, cringing. "Yes?"

Muffled yelling sounds through the phone, and his brow seems to grow heavier with each passing second. After several minutes of hushed whispering, he finally turns back to Harry, with one hand over the receiver.

"Look, Har, I'm really sorry but I need to take this. I'll be like five minutes, okay?"

"Fine." Harry said simply, watching as Peter bolted out of the café, phone still pressed to tightly to his ear.

So, Harry waited.

Fifteen minutes later, with no hide nor hair to be seen of Peter, Harry abruptly stands up from the booth. He presses a fifty-note into the hand of the surprised waitress with a mumbled apology before promptly exiting the café and heading home.

At this point, he was too tired to be disappointed.

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