Chances

It was a Tuesday night and Harry entered his favourite bar - a space meant for queer people only. Different pride flags of all sorts hung from the ceiling and laughter filled the air. Some people were dressed in outfits with rainbows on them, some had make up with the colours of their flags or wore their flags as capes while others - like Harry - were dressed casually in jeans and a simple t-shirt, not giving away their identity immediately. 

Harry took a seat at the bar and ordered a whiskey, his gaze drifting around the room and watching the karaoke contest on the small stage. A drag queen moderated it and announced "Born This Way" as the next song. Three women around his age who were already quite tipsy volunteered for the song. They entered the sage and giggled non-stop before they finally started singing.

If he was in a better mood, Harry might participate in the karaoke night but he longed for a stronger distraction. He knew that when it got later, some older men usually found their way into the bar and that was exactly what he was waiting for. They didn't want personal info or stories or a second meeting. They wanted a man for the night and that was exactly what Harry could offer. 

Harry was about to order his third glass of whiskey when a man took the seat next to him. "Two cognacs for me and my friend here." 

Harry turned his head and took in his sponsor's appearance. The man was a bit taller than Harry and of athletic build. The silver-grey tips of the dark brown hair and the grayish stubble framing the slightly wrinkled face gave him a touch of maturity. Harry estimated him to be in his mid-forties. 

"Thank you", Harry said. 

The man's lips curled into a gentle smile. "No need to thank me", he said and winked at Harry. "Anything for a pretty guy like you."

Another sip. Another man. Another distraction.

As Harry reached for his shot glass, his hand gently brushed against the man's hand. His eyes trailed over the veins on the man's muscular arm up to the rolled of sleeves of the black button-up shirt. The man flexed his muscles a bit. Then Harry looked up and their eyes met. The man showed him a small smirk and Harry returned it. 

Harry emptied the cognac with ease. "You have good taste, I must admit."

"You seem to appreciate good things." 

"I appreciate your company", Harry said with a charming smile and wondered if he had gone too far with his flirting. If he had been too bold and scared off his potential partner for the night. 

But the man laughed, a deep but hearty sound. "Straightforward, huh? I like that." 

Harry shrugged and grinned. "What can I say?", he purred and touched the man's leg with his own. "I'm quite ... adventurous." 

"Young and untamed, huh?", the man chuckled and his hand eventually came to rest on Harry's thigh. His thumb drew slow circles on the fabric of Harry's jeans. 

Harry held eye-contact and placed his hand over the man's hand on his thigh. He leaned forward until he was close to the man's ear, his voice a seductive whisper. "You could tame me."

"Your place or mine?"

"Yours." 

About twenty minutes later, Harry entered a grand penthouse in the heart of Manhattan. Paul - Harry had learnt his lover's name on the ride to the penthouse - closed the apartment door behind them and gently closed his fingers around Harry's wrist. 

Paul led Harry through the with white furniture modernly furnished living room to the wooden staircase next to the floor to ceiling windows. Harry halted for a moment to appreciate the view over the city. Of course, he had a fantastic view over New York from his father's mansion but it was nothing compared to this. This building was higher than those surrounding it and the city turned into a sea of lights as he looked outside. 

"Beautiful, huh?", Paul asked. 

Harry nodded. 

A soft smile formed on Paul's lips. "But not as beautiful as you, darling." He wrapped his arms around Harry's stomach and pulled him closer against his chest. He then buried his face in Harry's neck and left a trail of kisses there. "And I can think of something even better." His hand slowly travelled from Harry's stomach to the waistband of his jeans. 

A quiet gasp escaped Harry. That was what he was here for. What he needed. "You're right. There's something much better waiting for us." 

He started climbing up the unusual staircase. There were no whole steps but alternating half steps. Being a bit tipsy from the alcohol, Harry had some trouble with the inconvenient choice of stairs. 

Paul behind him chuckled softly and puts his hands on Harry's waist to steady him. "Don't worry, sweetie, I've got you." 

Eventually, they reached the upper floor and entered Paul's bedroom. It was much smaller than the living room but also had floor to ceiling windows. Center of the room was the large king-sized bed. The rest of the room contained a few other simple pieces of furniture. 

Paul closed the door behind them and pressed Harry against it. Then, their lips met with a crushing force. Harry's arms wrapped around Paul's neck, his hands finding their way into the soft dark hair. Paul's hands rested on Harry's hips to hold him in place while their kiss intensified. 

Harry's mind finally went blank as he gently bit Paul's lips and asked for entrance. He could finally let himself fall as his body started to heat up and his arousal started to grow. Nothing else mattered right now - nothing except the closeness between them. 

While Paul's hands travelled underneath Harry's t-shirt, Harry started unbuttoning Paul's shirt, revealing the toned chest and abdomen. Pieces of clothing fell to the floor and Paul picked Harry up to carry him to the bed. 

Harry sank into the soft mattress and pulled Paul on top of him, trapping him in a kiss. 

"Are you sure you still want this?", Paul asked. 

"Yes", Harry whispered. He didn't just want it, he needed it. "I want you." 

They shared more kisses and moans filled the air as their bodies merged into one. In that moment, Harry's tormented heart felt peace and the weight he was carrying around fell off him. He knew it wouldn't last, that when he woke up in the morning, it would be there again and ten times more suffocating. But right now, he didn't care. He just focused on the feeling of feeling absolutely nothing but physical pleasure. 

When Harry sank into Paul's arm's, totally spent from the act of passion and trying to regulate his laboured breathing, the usual bliss of release wasn't there. Instead, the huge gaping hole in his chest was already back again, bigger and more painful than ever. 

And then Harry realized that this lifestyle didn't change a thing. It's been three weeks since that night at the Osborn mansion. The night Harry's world collapsed. Three weeks in which he spent every day working at Oscorp, doing tasks at which he sucked no matter how hard he tried to distract himself. Three weeks in which he spent every evening in different clubs and bars to hook up with a different man each night just to numb his feelings. 

Harry did all that to distract himself from thinking about Peter. Thinking about how it was him under that damned Spider-Man mask. Thinking about the pain that discovery left within him. Thinking about what he had with Peter, how genuinely happy he had been with Peter, how he thought that Peter was the only one to love him for who he was - Norman Osborn's loser son. 

But now, Harry wondered if that was even true. Had Peter just accepted him and his burdening presence to get closer to his father in order to kill him? 

Harry didn't know. But he knew that, right now, he didn't long for more than lying in Peter's arms instead of Paul's. 

"I'm sorry", Harry said and freed himself from Paul's grip and got up. He collected his clothes and got dressed again. 

Paul's brows furrowed in confusion but his gaze softened as he watched Harry. "Did I hurt you in any way, sweetheart? You should've told me. I'm sorry, love." 

Harry shook his head. "You didn't hurt me, don't worry. It ... it was nice, really. I just ... I can't anymore, I'm sorry." 

"Hey, wait", Paul called out for him as Harry was about to leave the bedroom. "I call you a cab to get you home." 

At home, Harry lay in his bed and indulged in his desire and reread his chat with Peter. The heartfelt messages they exchanged. He even thought about unblocking Peter but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He put his phone away and stared at the ceiling. No matter how hard he tried, sleep wouldn't come. The longer he stayed awake, the louder Norman Osborn's voice got. 

Avenge me, Harry.

But Harry stayed silent. 

I left my equipment behind for you to carry on my legacy. Peter killed me. How can you just let him roam free?

Harry sticked his fingers into his ears. 

Norman clicked his tongue. Childish as ever. How foolish I was to think you could ever be worthy of following my footsteps. You're weak and whiny. A scared boy rather than a man.

Harry pushed his pillow over his head.

You've always been so emotional, Norman said in his usual strict tone. Always been so soft. It makes you weak. Instead of facing your problems like a man, my son decides to give his body away like a worthless whore. It's disgusting, pathetic, really.

"Shut the fuck up!", Harry yelled and got up. 

His voice echoed from the walls of his bedroom until it faded into oppressing silence. He was going insane. 

In the morning, when Harry was enjoying the breakfast Bernard had made for him, he picked up the latest print of the Daily Bugle. He lost his appetite the moment he saw Spider-Man on the front page, portrayed as a hero.

Be a man, Harry. Avenge me. Peter murdered me in cold blood and now gets celebrated as a hero while you're suffering alone. How is that fair? 

It wasn't fair. 

So, Harry made a decision. 

"Bernard!", Harry called out. "Get me a camera."

Harry sat down on the sofa and asked Bernard to start recording the video before the butler left the room. 

"I've stayed silent for a while but I can't reconcile that with my conscience any longer", Harry said and faced the camera with the best puppy eyes he could do. "The public celebrates him as a hero while they forget that he killed my father, Norman Osborn." 

He forced himself to shed a few tears and slowly wiped them away. 

"I'm talking about Spider-Man. I discovered his identity a few weeks ago and nothing could've prepared me for the betrayal I was about to experience." 

Harry made a dramatic pause. 

"My father's murderer spun his little webs around me and gained my trust, only to ruin my life. I'm telling you this so you aren't fooled like me. He isn't the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man he claims to be. He's a plague and he'll infect this city, causing damage to its people." 

He pointed at the camera to create a sense of identification among his audience. 

"If you want to protect yourself, make sure that Peter Parker ends up in jail to pay for his actions. Don't let him get away with murdering one of the most important men of this city in cold blood." 

Harry got up and stopped the recording. A wide grin spread on his face. 

Now Peter would get what he deserved.