Use Me
"Hey baby," Tiffany called, poking her perfectly styled head into the room, "You're coming to a party with me tonight!"
Harry Osborn looked up from his desk, startled at this out-of-the-blue revelation. "I am?"
"Yup," she said, popping the p. She pranced over to him, her blonde curls bouncing around her shoulders with each step. "I already told Sariah we'd be there so you're coming, okay?"
Harry looked back down at the paper he was writing. He'd never really been a social butterfly and he really would prefer to get as much work done as he could before the school break.
"Look, babe," he said, "I've got a lot of stuff to do tonight, alright? You go and have fun, but I'm just not sure going out is such a great idea for me."
As he tried to turn back to his work, he felt his girlfriend's hand grab the back of his chair and spin him back to face her. "Harry," she pouted, "If you love me, you'll go. Besides," she said, "There's someone who wants to meet you! Please...?"
He sighed and looked away from her piercing green eyes, unable to ignore how they were filling with tears. "Hey, you know I love you," he started, "I'm just... not feeling it tonight."
Tiffany bowed her head and whispered, "You don't love me, then? If you don't come, how can I know you love me?" Her voice began to raise as she continued, "How do I know you're not going to see other girls while I'm gone? How can I be sure you're mine?!"
Harry wanted to laugh at just how wrong she was. There's no way he'd be seeing another girl. The only reason he was dating her was because of his father! He didn't LIKE girls! But he knew this would get him nowhere. She did this every time she wanted something from him because she knew it would work. He'd been with his father for long enough to recognize when a fight wasn't worth picking. Maybe he should fight harder? But he was tired of fighting and it still wouldn't get him anywhere. Not with his father and not with her.
As Tiffany began sniffing loudly, making an obvious show of her tears, Harry gave in. "Ok, alright! I'll go with you, Tiff, I'll go with you."
As soon as he'd conceded, Tiffany was right back to how she had been. No evidence of her seemingly heartbroken tears remained as she grinned widely and exclaimed, "Great! It starts at 10:00 so be ready!"
As she bounced out of the room, her little skirt flashing a lot more skin than Harry would have liked to see, he put his head in his hands and groaned.
Why do I let her do this to me?
Somewhere deep inside his head, he heard the response: It's better you than someone else. Let her use you because if she's not, she'll just use somebody else. Better you than some other poor soul.
Somewhere even deeper in his mind, a little thought niggled at his conscious. Peter would never do this to you. You know it, and yet you ran away, like the coward you are.
He stared down at his paper before sighing and rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes. He let his head fall back onto his chair and stared up at the ceiling. He couldn't think about Peter. It had been years since he'd seen him, much less talked to him! And yet... He couldn't bring himself to forget how wonderful that boy had been to him.
It was close to 9:00 now. Looks like he had a party to go to, apparently. He had a feeling he wouldn't be getting much more work done that night.
(＠_＠;)
The house was massive, but not nearly as spacious as Harry's home. Still, he took a second to appreciate the size of it, trying to ignore how impatient Tiffany was getting. Or, if he was being honest, just trying to ignore her.
"Come on, babe," she whined, "Let's gooooo!"
He took a breath and nodded. "Alright, let's go then." He really didn't want to be here. He'd rather be anywhere else but here!
He pulled his car into the long driveway, finding a spot relatively close to the road so they could make a quick getaway if needed. If the police were called, he really didn't feel like dealing with the inevitable pile up as the partying people made a break for it.
It was pretty early in the night, but cars were already lining the drive way and Harry could hear the booming music resonating from the house. In one last ditch effort to avoid the inevitable, he asked, "Are you sure you want me here? I won't be much fun, Tiff."
She glowered at him, her eyes narrowing. "Yes, I want you here, Harry. There's someone I want you to meet, remember?" She was using her dangerous voice, the voice that warned a fight was coming unless he did something to appease her.
Harry sighed quietly, looking away from her and up to the house. Lights were flooding the property, showing dozens of people already milling around. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad?
"Yeah, ok," he said, "Let's go." Harry opened his door and got out of the car, flicking his bangs out of his bright blue eyes. He let out a tired sigh as Tiffany flung open her door, her purse clutched tight to her side.
"Come on then, baby," she said, "It won't be that bad! You'll have fun, I promise."
As she grabbed his arm, digging her dagger-like claws into his skin, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was about to happen... And he didn't have a single clue how to stop it.
(●'⌓'●)
Harry only had a few drinks here and there as the party progressed. Oh, how he wanted to drink and drink until he blacked out, trying to forget about Tiffany and how she was practically clinging to his side like a monkey. But he knew that he'd have to drive home because he certainly wasn't going let Tiffany drive his Mercedes anywhere. Absolutely not!
An hour in and Harry was already silently begging to leave. People were everywhere, shoving around others, snorting lines of coke on the coffee table, having drinking contests out on the back patio! He spotted one couple aggressively making out in a chair lnear the atrium. He strategically placed himself in Tiffany's line of sight so she wouldn't get any ideas. If that couple lost any more articles of clothing-
He was jerked back to reality as Tiff screamed right in his ear. He jerked his head away, positive she'd just burst an eardrum. "He's here, he's here!" She yelled.
Harry looked to where she was pointing. Across the room, near the front door, Harry spotted a very tall blond man. He had wide shoulders and he towered over almost everyone there, including Harry. There was a nondescript black backpack slung over his shoulder and Harry wondered what could be inside. It was a house party, not a sleepover.
"That's the person who wanted to meet me?" He asked incredulously.
"Yeah!" Tiffany rolled her eyes, "He's my cousin, stupid! I told you about him, remember?"
Harry, in fact, didn't remember. He tended to block out a lot of what Tiffany said, as most of it was just drama from her friend groups and common gossip she'd heard around campus.
"Brock!" She screamed, "Over here!" She began waving her arms and jumping up and down, trying to get this guy's attention. He soon spotted them and began making his way over to where they were seated at the bar.
"Tiffany!" He exclaimed, scooping her up and kissing her on the cheek. Harry was taken aback at just how deep this man's voice was! He could have sworn he felt the vibrations through the floor.
Soon enough, Brock's eyes landed on Harry. Almost immediately, he felt chills run down his spine. There was something unsettling about the way he was staring at him. Brock towered over him, looking him up and down. He had green eyes, just like Tiffany, and Harry could easily see the family resemblance.
"You must be Harry, huh? Harry Osborn?" Brock asked.
Harry stood, extending his arm in greeting. "Yeah, I am." He couldn't help but notice that this guy had to have been close to 6' 5". Harry was 5' 8" and this man was an absolute giant.
Brock stared at his offered hand before taking it and giving a firm shake. "You treatin' my baby cousin right?"
"Of course!" Harry responded, cursing his father for introducing him and Tiffany. He was really only dating her to get his father off his back; Tiffany was horrible, through and through, without even mentioning his complete and utter lack of interest in women.
Tiffany giggled and clung to his side, starting to dig her nails deeper. "Brock," she forced a small laugh, "Can I talk to you? Its just been so looong!"
"Yeah, of course, baby girl!" He said, his eyes still fixed on Harry's. He felt those chills again but refused to be the one to break eye contact.
Tiff let go of his arm and danced to Brock's side, sliding her arm into his and pulling him away. As soon as they were out of sight, Harry seriously considered the possibility of making a run for it. Just ditching her and her cousin and getting home, hopefully in one piece.
But he knew he wouldn't. Her parents were important investors in his father's company! If he did anything against her, his father was sure to hear about it. He'd take staying with Tiff over facing his father any day. Lesser of two evils, right?
He sat and thought for a bit. Lesser of two evils... You'd pick a demon over the devil. But Harry knew there was an angel somewhere and he was waiting for him...
He had to stop thinking about Peter. All it did was make him feel worse.
After a few minutes of Tiffany's and Brock's absence, Harry stood from his chair, making sure to grab his cup, and started to meander around the party. A lot of the people were outside, playing in the pool and... Doing other things in said pool. He decided to stay inside.
He wandered back to his spot a few minutes later and found Tiffany and Brock talking animatedly. They seemed excited about something, but it was too loud and he was too far away to understand what they were saying.
As he got closer, he noticed that they became significantly less animated until he was within earshot and they went silent. He couldn't help but feel like they were talking about him.
"Hey Harry!" Tiff said. He could tell that her smile was forced. It seemed like he'd inadvertently interrupted something.
He was about to ask if they wanted him to leave (silently praying that the answer would be yes) when Brock spoke up.
"Hey, Osborn. You want a drink?"
"No, no, I'm good." Harry said, still unable to ignore how many creep vibes this guy was giving off.
"C'mon," he wheedled, "It's just one drink, it's not gonna bite."
Harry looked over at Tiffany, noticing how she was starting to give him her puppy eyes. Unlike healthy relationships, he had no problem turning her down. But now that there was another man involved, he couldn't help but feel like he had something to prove.
"Yeah, alright. I'll have a drink." He didn't notice the look Brock gave Tiff.
"Alright, I'll go get us some then." Brock got up and left to the kitchen to get some more drinks.
Harry sat down next to Tiff and sighed. "Hey," he said, "I'm going to have to head home soon, ok? I have a lot of work I have to get done."
Tiffany... Didn't look as upset as he'd expected. Maybe now that she had Brock here, she'd let him go without a fight? Oh, how he hoped so.
Brock came back a few moments later, three full red solo cups in his large hands. He placed one in front of Tiff, one of front of himself, and gave the last one to Harry.
"Cheers," Tiffany giggled, bumping cups with the two boys on either side of her. Tiffany and Brock both downed their drinks and Harry followed suit. He noticed that the beverage was cold, colder than it should have been, and... Salty? He mentally shrugged it off and finished it, setting his cup down on the counter in front of him.
He noticed that both Tiffany and Brock were now staring at him. Had he spilled some of his drink on himself? He looked down but he didn't see anything. What were they staring at?
Only a few minutes later did the headache start to form. A dull ache began to settle behind his eyes, and he unconsciously raised one hand to rub at his forehead. Was the music too loud and starting to affect him? Maybe he should leave early?
He tried to turn to Tiffany, but he realized his body wouldn't let him. He was frozen, a numb tingling beginning to take over his arms and legs. What was happening? Had he... Wait, what was happening again?
He felt his mind slowing down as his limbs began to get heavier and heavier. What was... What was happening? He hadn't drank that much; he'd barely been buzzed, let alone black-out drunk!
He felt a small hand on his shoulder but he couldn't lift his head to look at the person it was attached to. Everything was muted, the music sounding like it was underwater and the constant chatter of people barely noticeable.
Harry felt a larger hand on his back and tried to shove it off, but he could barely keep his head up, let alone start a confrontation. His mind was foggy and his thoughts diluted, but he had the sense that neither of those hands was safe. He felt like he needed to get away from them but he couldn't feel his legs anymore and he definitely couldn't stand up.
But then the large hands were picking him up and taking him somewhere. He tried to kick and struggle but the only thing that came out was a weak and slurred, "No." He was still conscious, but the numbness had completely incapacitated him.
As they were moving up the stairs, Harry started feeling sick. The world was spinning and nausea was starting to take over his senses. His arms somehow found themselves wrapped around his waist. He felt like he was going to throw up.
He felt someone brush past him and heard a door open. As soon as he was inside, the door clicked shut and the noise from the party faded away. He felt himself being placed down on a soft surface and then the small hands were back. This time, they were running through his hair and tracing lines over his face. He tried to smack the hands away, but he couldn't raise his arms.
"Hurry up, Brock," he heard a voice hiss, "I don't know how long those drugs are going to last. I mixed as many as I could without it becoming fatal, but that means I don't know how long we have."
"Alright, alright, chill," another voice answered, "I'm going as fast as I can, Tiff. Don't forget, I'm not the only one who has something to do here."
"I know that but go faster."
Suddenly, he felt a weight settle on top of him. Someone was straddling his waist! The small hands were tracing over his skin again, making goosebumps rise all over his body.
"Ok, ready when you are," the deep voice said.
"Give me a second, you dick. There's a lot to do!"
Hands started fiddling with his black button-up shirt. "Ugh," a voice hissed, "why can't you ever wear t-shirts like a normal kid, Osborn? It's always these stupid button-ups!"
Harry would have laughed if he wasn't trying so hard not to cry. Who would have thought that Harry Osborn, the sole heir to his father's multi-million dollar company, would be in this predicament? Who could have predicted how this night was going to go? Maybe if he'd payed more attention to the red flags and actually stood up for himself, then this wouldn't be happening?
His mind was still foggy, but he felt those little hands steadily begin working their way up his chest, unbuttoning every small button. The air was cold as it hit his skin and it shocked him back to himself just a little bit more. He knew this wasn't right, he knew that he shouldn't be here- but there was nothing he could do! He still couldn't feel his legs or arms and he couldn't remember how he'd gotten here.
"This would have been so much easier if he wasn't such a prude. None of this would have happened if he'd just given us what we needed." The voice, now tinged with bitterness and anger, was still hovering over him.
"Yeah, yeah, you've said that before, Tiff."
"Its true, Brock! All we needed was just a few pictures and he'd never be able to get out! But noooo, he just had to be stubborn and refuse all of my advances like the stupid little boy he is."
He felt one of the hands wind their way into his hair before they made a fist and shook. He could feel the hair being ripped from his scalp and a few pain filled tears slipped from his eyes. The voice hissed, "Isn't that right? You're such an idiot, Osborn. Why couldn't you have just given me what I wanted when I asked for it? None of this would have happened if you'd just given us what we needed."
The hand let go of his hair and he wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but then he felt the hand return and connect with his cheek in a sharp slap. He'd been hit before, courtesy of his father, but this was different. At least he hadn't been drugged and numb with his father, at least then he could try and fight back! But right here, right now? He was utterly and completely helpless.
"Argh!" the voice whisper-yelled. He had a feeling that if this didn't require them to keep a low profile, she would be screaming. "I can't stand you! You're lucky you're rich, you uptight prick."
Harry felt despair begin to wash over him in waves as he felt those hands sink lower to his waist. But they stopped before reaching his waist band and he felt them being placed on his hip bones. It felt like the person on top of him was leaning all her weight on him and he was sure he was going to bruise.
"Well?" The high voice snapped, "You have a camera for a reason, use it!"
Harry heard a deep sigh and then a click. A moment later, a flash filled the semi-dark room.
And then the hands were moving again. He felt panic start washing over him again as he felt them begin to fiddle with his belt. Using all the strength he had left, he tried to shove this person off of him, but he barely moved them! They just steadied themselves and then got right back to it!
Desperate, Harry tried to scream, to shout, to do something, anything to get this person off of him. All that came out was a strangled moan and a slurred, "Ss-stop."
Tears had begun slipping out of the corners of his eyes now and he felt his heart sink into his stomach as he realized how hard it was getting to breathe.
In his blur of panic and desperation, only one name really came to him: Peter!
(ಠ_ಠ)━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ