"Illusory"
1:04 A.M.
It had been nine months since the destruction and disaster that the multiversal opening caused.
Rosalie was gone. Otto remained, blaming himself surely with every waking second he existed. Otto Octavius became completely obstinate; he answered the door for no one, he refused calls and ate little.
He loathed himself for the world, and loathed the world for who he had become.
Tonight was no easier than the last, or the one before that, but, despite his reclusive behavior, he had one old friend in mind who'd be able to help.
Norman Osborn.
His fate was unchanged as was Otto's, and they both live in emotional ruin in a universe one in the same now. They were all they could offer to each other.
"No- no no, that's n… right. You're.. no. Wrong. You're wrong." Otto stumbled to the kitchen from his harrowing place of rest, running shaky fingers through his hair.
He muttered opposed reassurances to himself, fighting with the urge to rely on someone- anyone.
Otto picked up the phone.
His fingers tapped across the screen. A ringing dial sounded thereafter.
The man's gruff, underused voice crackled through, finally giving in to bed his old friend for company.
"N-Norman."
"Otto? Oh- I'm so glad it's you! It's late! Are you okay? Did someone br-"
"Norm… shut it. Just… paranoid. Please. You know my address." He huffed.
Norman was the first to hang up, but Otto knew well enough that Norman wasn't one to betray a request. They'd both become sad, unsure, unrecognizably shaken men that society stowed away in the cheapest "expensive" apartments they could find.
At the beginning of Otto's nine-month departure from social life, he'd given Norman a key.
Norman had never had the chance to visit until now.
"Oh, Rosie…" Otto sighed, crying into his trembling palm.
Octavius slumped against the couch in wait, hugging himself, feeling restless as his spine ached.
"I… I-I got rid of them, why!?" Otto paused and flopped onto his back on the leather padding, glaring up at the unlit ceiling through his blurry tears.
"Why couldn't it have taken these damned memories with it? Why do I have to live with the…" He paused and covered his face again. "...why do I have to live?"
His stomach twisted and turned like an angry sea, overturning on its lower waves.
Chk. Zzzt.
"Otto? I'm here. Are you okay- oh my…"
Norman shut the door behind him and locked it swiftly, rushing over to Otto's side.
"I-I can't do this Norman! I can't, she-" Otto gasped for a breath and sat up, curling in on his posture with hands tugging at his hair. "- she, she's gone! I can't do this!"
Norman sat down at a safe distance, offering a quickly whipped-up glass of wine from the counter beside where he entered.
"She's GONE!" Otto shouted, sobbing with an open mouth and clenched teeth.
This was nothing like the Otto he knew- not even when fighting that little brown-haired boy. [What was his name, anyways…?]
"Otto, Otto, hey, I'm here. I'm here." Norman set the glass down on the coffee table and raised his left hand to the crying man's unoccupied spine.
"You're NOT her!" He snapped, smacking away Norman's gentle touch.
Norman squeaked at the shock, but persevered nevertheless.
"Otto, just… we need to get you to bed. When did you last sleep?"
"She's gone…" Otto mumbled, ignoring Norman's suggestion.
It wasn't deliberate anymore- Otto couldn't tell where he was. He knew he was grounded and his feet were touching the ground, but he couldn't stop his feet from stepping forward.
"Rosie…"
Before him wasn't the apartment, before him wasn't Norman Osborn or the coffee table or the TV… Rosie's body lay limp in front of him.
No, this isn't right. This can't be right, can it?
Through Otto's confusingly detached anguish, Norman pried at his stance on the floor, pulling his forearm towards the bedroom. It felt miraculous that he'd convinced him to stand, but he wouldn't give another foot towards the bedroom now.
"Otto, honey, you've got to stay in the moment." Norman called through the thick field of anxiety barricading Otto's receptors.
It was no use. Otto was a lion of a man for as long as Osborn had known him, and that wasn't going to change here either. His utter resilience to emotion had lasted him so long, but now… he was just a hollowed out, guilt-infested oak tree, ready to collapse. This was barely a fragment of the prideful man he'd pronounced during so many trial presentations for Oscorp, and for all of the romantic dinners he'd taken his wife and friends out for.
It took another minute of this heartbreaking mumble before Otto glanced around.
His sad, sorry eyes met Norman's and hardened in an instant.
He couldn't be vulnerable. Norman couldn't know.
"Otto? You there?" Norman patted Otto's shoulder.
"Hmh. Yeah…" Otto sighed, avoiding Norman's eyes.
They aren't Rosie's eyes. They're not worth looking at.
"Come on, you need to rest… you're sweating." Norman motioned towards the bedroom door.
Otto sighed and gave a low grumble, pushing past.
He pulled himself out of his shirt as quickly as he could, making for the bed. Otto's figure flopped onto the mattress face-first, not a care in the world if he was getting sufficient oxygen.
"Otto, we don't have to talk about it, but…" Norman laid a hand on Otto's metal waistband, watching sensors rotate and shift to close where the arms used to reside.
"She's gone. What's there to say." Otto sighed, wetting the sheets with tears.
"Octavius, it's okay to grieve. I understand how it feels to lose-"
"You DON'T. Shut your mouth." Otto snarled, swatting Norman's hand away.
Norman winced at Otto’s voice, feeling the volume of it reverberate throughout his mind. Even though Otto was being a complete prick, he didn't want to give up on the guy. Otto didn't have anyone else, and if he did, they were either long gone or pushed away by now.
Honestly… how could he have gone nine months without seeing anyone or talking to anyone?
"Look, you can push me away, okay?"
"Whatever."
"But you can't shut me out for good."
Otto gave pure silence and shoved his face farther into the pillow mattress below.
"It's okay to ask for help. Remember how you helped me? I wouldn't be here if you hadn't caught the glider and brought me back to the lab."
Norman cautiously ran a hand up Otto's right shoulder blade, applying pressure to tense points he discovered with what time was allowed. He could only assume Otto's mousetrap temper would snap again, and probably break something this time too.
'Here goes nothing… I hope I don't lose an appendage.' Norman thought, pressing his other palm into Otto's left shoulder blade.
It was silent for a few minutes, with a surprisingly docile reaction from Otto considering his previous rejection.
Norman worked closer and closer towards the metal waistband until he was only inches away, kneading into the deathly tense muscle tissue that had been overused for months under those metal curses.
"Mmnn…" Otto groaned.
Norman jumped a little at the noise and glanced up, feeling his friend's body relax just the slightest under his touch.
Progress.
Norman sucked in a quiet breath, letting his emotional avarice pursue dreams unknown as he leaned down and pressed his lips against Otto's back.
After pulling away to allow a reaction, nothing seemed to wrong Otto. He continued.
After approximately three kisses northwards up Otto's back, the sobbing started again.
"F…Fucking… cheat…"
Uh oh.
"Norman… what the hell…" Otto huffed, pushing himself up off of his stomach on the mattress.
He turned over and sat to face Norman, his eyes four shades redder with hallowed sadness.
His charcoal eyes deployed every sense of shame and grief as humanly possible, and it ripped Norman's confidence in two.
"Otto, I'm so sorry- I just thought, it sounded like you-"
"Get your shameless face out of my sight. That's for Rosie. You're not my Rosie."
From the darkest shadows in Otto's bedroom, he stared Norman's existence to the doorway, watching him rush out of the apartment as fast as his feet let him.
"You're not my Rosie…" Otto whispered.