Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Spectacular Spider-Man Characters or Marvel Characters included in this fanfic, I do this for fun :)
"Mr. Osborn, it's best to pinpoint this event that caused this recent meltdown you had…"
During that moment, Harry Osborn's mind drifted off to that dreadful memory of this year's Homecoming.
The Homecoming Dance would be such a rousing, anxiety-ridden time for most students. Especially scoring dates with someone you've crushed on for the longest time. So the young Harry Osborn believed he confidently could score a date with his own girlfriend, Gwen Stacy. His first love in his high school life, and he'd like to keep it that way. Sure, he 'pulled strings' for her to stay with him, but for the sake of love. So much, he made her a homecoming poster, for the sake of the Senior Year spectacle!
"GWEN STACY, WILL YOU GO TO HOMECOMING WITH ME?!" in big bold text painted on enormous green poster paper.
Harry envisioned nothing else but the idea of his blonde girlfriend, in a tight beautiful dress, as they had the time of their lives on the dance floor. He impulsively unveiled it to her, and to the huge crowd of students surrounding them.
His heart skipped a beat, forming an enormous grin on his face, once she gave a subtle nod to his proposal. The young man secured his own date with no help. Sure, he brought Glory Grant to the winter formal once, but he was just a rebound for Kenny Kong… But his beautiful Gwen was the real deal.
The next few days felt like mere moments till the highly anticipated dance. It was riveting for him with his hormones racing at an all-time high.
Finally, that day crept up at him, as he waited by her front door, with the corsage nearly slipping out of in mind his sweaty hand. The nerves were getting to him, especially pondering the possibility that her dad, Police Captain George Stacy, would give him 'the dad talk.'
However, the instant Gwen Stacy stepped out that door, his worries disappeared. His jaw hit the floor, blacking out for the slightest moment, still making out how beautiful she looked.
Harry gasped, "Man, was she a beauty!"
She wore a tight lavender silk dress, and a drop of makeup to enhance that beautiful foundation.
Gwen greeted, "Hi, Harry, nice tux!"
"T-thanks, babe. Ahem… you look great! Nice dress!"
She giggled, "I appreciate the dress you sent… it's really nice!"
"This is also for you"
"Thanks, Harry. The corsage is a cool touch."
"No problem-o"
Harry held his hand out and led her to the waiting limo, but sprung there to open the door for her.
"Mi lady."
His eyes noticed her smile at the gesture, which got him all giddy inside. So he kept going. First making sure she got in her seat, before quickly getting in himself. The luxurious limo started up and headed to Midtown Manhattan. He was ready for the greatest night of his life.
However, during the car ride, the awkward atmosphere between the two killed the momentum. The drive was filled with awkward glances, muttering amongst themselves and fiddling with their phones.
Harry asked, "So… is your father working tonight?"
Gwen answered, "Yeah, the usual late shift, patrolling the great streets of Manhattan… I guess"
"Cool…"
"Um, what about your mom—what's she up to?"
"I really don't know, actually. I think she's either having dinner with friends or in a meeting with Mr. Menken. She's been doing that alot lately"
"Ah okay…"
But Harry had grown tired of this static atmosphere between them, especially if he wanted this night to be perfect. So he wanted to lighten the mood, grabbing a shot glass and do something he'd seen his father do for his mother. Make a 'Whiskey Sour' cocktail. But Harry didn't even have half the experience the great Norman Osborn had with alcohol, so he was sloppy with his single shot of whiskey.
'YUCK! What was that?!'
He despised the taste of it, nearly spitting it out in front of Gwen.
"Harry… I don't think drinking right now is the best idea. You're not even 21"
"Babeee, It's fine. It's homecoming!... Gotta create an atmosphere in here!"
"Doesn't even seem like you can hold your liquor very well"
"Gwen, relax, this isn't liquor… It's Whiskey! I'll be fine…"
Once they arrived at the dance… Harry was EXTREMELY tipsy, swaying every step forward. His girlfriend practically held him up as they went through those doors. Despite the circumstances, Harry liked the feeling of being held up, especially by her.
He could feel that lively atmosphere from the bass-boosted music through those doors. As if his heart was pumping to the beat of the music.
'That's more like it!'
He left Gwen for a moment to find his childhood friend, Peter Parker through the bustling crowd. But he was nowhere to be found.
'Pete's late… for the millionth time! I'll see him later'
After he got through that crowd, he saw Gwen chatting to Mary Jane. Unlike most girls he noticed, the blonde and the redhead seemed like they didn't want to be there. Especially Gwen, with not a smile seen on her face. So, Harry believed, it was up to him to lighten the mood and help his girlfriend have some fun for the night. So he confidently strutted over and reached his hand out to her.
He proposed, "Wanna dance?"
She asked, "You sure you wanna dance, when you're tipsy"
"Yeah… I'll be fine—C'mon, let's dance!" he insisted.
Mary Jane shouted, "Have fun on the dance floor, Gwen!"
Without an answer, he still took her by the hand and led her to the dance floor.
Harry slid his hands on her hips, while she placed her hands on his shoulders, attempting to slow dance. But they moved out of sync to the music. One step ahead, or two steps behind, never on-beat.
It frustrated Harry, a lot more than anyone else would be.
However, he noticed Gwen being amused by it.
"Well, we suck at dancing," Gwen playfully observed.
"Yeah," Harry frustratingly admitted.
"Let's just have fun with it, okay?"
"Yeah… have fun with it," he told himself. 'C'mon, Harry… show her a good time!'
Suddenly, it felt like a dose of adrenaline/alcohol started flowing through his veins. Which he firmly pulled Gwen a lot closer to him and held her close.
His eyes intensely locked onto hers.
His hands, again at her hips, but they'd slowly slither down that short, silk dress of hers.
"Harry, what're you doing?" she faintly whispered in his ear.
"Having fun," he alluded.
His hand moved further down her thigh, and it felt like nothing was going to stop it.
"Harry, not here. Seriously. There's people watching."
However, Harry completely disregarded her reasoning, insisting, "Gwen… come on, let's me just... show you a good time…"
"You're drunk," she spat.
"Drunkkk? Nooo… what?" he dismissed.
His hand was closing in on where he thought fun was. But her hand firmly stopped him from going any further.
She frustratingly pleaded, "Please stop Harry–please just let go of me"
Yet, his hand firmly stayed where it was, despite her pleading.
She frustratedly pleaded for the last time, "Harry, let go of me, now!"
"Gwen-"
"LET GO!" she bloodcurdlingly screamed, pushing him off her.
"Hey—I'm sorry-"
At that moment, it felt like the lively music reached a screeching halt, as everyone's eyes locked onto them.
Gwen tearfully unleashed on him, "I can't do this anymore–I can't keep doing this! I've had enough, Harry! Driving myself crazy thinking I can make this work—but no, I-I've FINALLY made up my mind… I can't be with you—anymore, Harry!"
At that moment, his heart dropped to the floor, and shattered in a million pieces, right in front of his expensive loafers.
His ears were ringing.
His eyes watered up, witnessing his friend Peter and Mary Jane over to comfort Gwen. He caught a few people glaring at him from the corner of his eye.
His mouth dried up, constantly licking his lips to keep them a tad moisturized.
His ears faintly heard the chatter amongst the students.
And his body couldn't stand being there anymore. He burst through those doors, with tears and hot sweat streaming down his face.
His mind spiraled into madness, 'HOW DID I MESS THAT UP! HOW! HOW?! C'mon, this should've been the perfect night… how?! WHY DID I DO THAT?! What was I thinking?!'
He had to release this pent-up self-loathing, so with all that anger, and not the greatest judgment, his right fist harshly met the closest brick wall…
And of course; it didn't make things even better.
Harry grimaced after feeling the pain in his right hand, 'AHHH WHY?! WHY'D I DO THAT?!' He tried to massage his hand to clear out the pain, but it led to more blood coming out of his knuckles. Not the smartest decision that was made that day, but it certainly not the worst.
OSBORN MANOR
On his way to the manor, he got glares from others, while he held his injured fist, ticked him off. Got to a point where he started skipping, like an injured jackrabbit, to cover more ground. Eventually it just turned into an all-out sprint. By the time he arrived home, the run completely drenched him with sweat.
Bernard observed, "Master Harry, you're home early."
Harry expressed, "Just had a really bad night, Bernard… I messed it all up!"
"Mhmmm"
"Do you know where my mom is?"
"Mrs. Osborn hasn't come home yet. Still out with her meeting with Donald Menken"
The young man sighed, "Of course she is,"
He dragged his feet, going to his room. He slammed his door shut, hoping to drown this night out of existence, by drinking it all out of his system.
…
His therapist asked, "Mr. Osborn? Do you need more time?"
"I… don't, Dr. Hamilton"
"Do you remember what happened when you saw her earlier today?"
"I… panicked. I got away from her as quickly as I could."
"So you didn't try talking to Gwen Stacy?"
"I couldn't… I've sent her so many apologies about that night, and it's been radio silence for months"
"When was the last time you talked to her, again?"
"How many times do I have to tell this story to get it?! This is like our eighth session!"
"My apologies, Harry. Wanted to make sure."
"Since I texted her 'Happy Birthday'… in March"
"That's good. Did she reply?"
"No"
Dr. Hamilton nodded, as he wrote notes for this session.
"I would like to acknowledge that your fidgeting has improved a lot this last month, so pat yourself on the back for that one."
"Mhmmm"
"Anything else you were up to this week?"
"Nothing much. Same thing as last week. Exercising a ton, especially weight lifting and, boxing"
"Hmmm, that's good. You have a routine going, which helps with focusing in what you want"
"Yeah. I'm just trying to get better, to make him proud"
In the silence, Dr. Hamilton jotted down a couple more notes for this session and put it away in his leather book bag.
"Mr. Osborn, if that's all… let's call it a night. Remember, feel comfortable venting to close friends, of course. It's good to be vulnerable"
"Okay, Mr. Hamilton"
"That's an excellent step to take, constantly. Another pivotal session, Mr. Osborn. Please send my greetings to your mother. Take care!"
Harry stood up to walk him out, but Dr. Hamilton waved him off and walked himself out instead.
Once his therapist left, this eerie silence in the manor crept up on him. His mother already sleeping, his butler off for the night, so… he was alone. Yet he needed something to fill the void.
He went off into his room and got ready for the night. Brushing his teeth, then changed out of his used clothes, and put on shorts and a stained white T-shirt. But his eyes set on his journal, which was on his dresser. The journal that he rarely wrote in, yet the words written were something that his mind constantly comes back to.
'My dream life'
Sure, I got the money, and I can buy whatever I can think of… but there's always something.
I just want the dream girl that wants me for me. The hottest cheerleader in the squad, in my arm, proud to be in my arms, while I'm Midtown's favorite student… that'd make him proud.
Good grades sound cool too, especially since I could go to any university I want. That would make him proud too...
One day, I dream of a life where my father would've been proud of me. He would've actually enjoyed talking to me. And for once in my life… not be busy with work. I know he worked hard to support us, cause he's a good dad. But–
One day… I wished he could see me as more… Hopefully, he looks down on me now, somewhat proudly… so I can rest.
Right after skimming his journal, a thought came into his mind about Mr. Hamilton's recommendation. It wasn't like this was the first time Mr. Hamilton had recommended this… but finally, Harry listened to him. So he immediately whipped scrolled through his phone till he found his oldest friend, Peter Parker. He took his time conjuring his message to his friend, quickly sending it once he thought it was solid.
'Hey Pete, how have you been doing, bud? We haven't hung out for a while… so wanna hang at the Silver Spoon tomorrow? Let me know if you can… thanks' - Harry O.