I’ve been trying to enjoy the fruits of my labor
The semester ends without much fanfare. Peter celebrates Hanukkah with Aunt May and is over the moon when Harry accepts his invitation to visit for dinner. He invites Gwen too and revels in the love and laughter that fills Aunt May’s house.
“He’s a very sweet young man,” Aunt May tells Peter approvingly while he helps bring out the food. She looks over to Harry and Gwen, sitting on the couch, flipping through one of Peter’s yearbooks and swapping stories from their childhood.
“I know.” Peter smiles, blushing. He hopes that Gwen doesn’t tease him, especially as he feels the blush deepen when his eyes meet Harry’s beautiful blue ones.
***
For the first time ever, Peter has someone to kiss at New Years. Harry’s lips are soft and sweet like cotton candy and he savors each second. As they break apart and toast the new year, Peter gazes down at him, completely mesmerized by his playful smile and pretty eyes, before kissing him again.
For a brief second, he thinks about Professor Parker and what he must be doing before firmly shoving that thought to a deep corner of his mind.
That night, when they go to bed entwined, Peter makes a New Year's resolution. He’s not going to think about Professor Parker anymore. He’s going to focus on the wonderful man laying in bed with him and he’s going to make it work.
***
Maybe that’s why it stings particularly badly when Harry calls him two and a half weeks later, asking to talk. Peter’s not exactly a relationship expert, but he knows that this is either really good or really bad. He hopes it’s not the latter.
He meets Harry at a coffee shop near his apartment, fingers fidgeting and leg bouncing while he waits. He’s strategic in his choice of seating — claiming two stools on the bar facing the window, next to the door. Peter manages to keep from biting his nails and it feels like a small triumph.
“You okay?” Harry asks him the second he sits down at their table, cortado in hand. He’s, as always, impeccably dressed in all black and looks effortlessly cool with his silky hair falling casually onto his forehead. Peter tracks his long, nimble fingers as they push back the unruly strands of hair and take off his dark rounded sunglasses.
Peter’s breath hitches at the question, unsure if he should respond truthfully: no, I’m fucking terrified. He settles on a nod instead.
Harry sets his lips into a firm line. “Sorry for being so cryptic in asking to talk.” He looks out the window, purposefully averting Peter’s eyes.
His tone sets Peter’s nerves on overdrive but he manages a sunny smile nonetheless. “It’s okay.” Peter braces himself for the inevitable. There are a few beats of measured silence. It’s not uncomfortable, just uneasy.
Harry breaks the silence first, voice quiet and awfully direct. “What are we? I mean, what do you want out of this?”
Peter freezes. This isn’t what he had expected. “I don’t know. I guess, I hadn’t really thought about labels.”
Harry’s mouth twists into a grimace but he quickly recovers, nodding slowly. “Right, but do you want this to become anything more?” There’s hope in his voice, and Peter is afraid to break it. It’s a fragile, delicate thing and it reminds Peter of all the times Harry has opened up to him to tell him about his lonely childhood, his fears of not living up to expectations, and his hope to leave his mark on the world. Harry has never shied away from being an open book, a fact that Peter admires but right now is terrifying. He feels as if he’s holding Harry’s beating heart in his too hot hands and the responsibility is too much to bear.
“I- '' Peter hesitates and blinks up, because the truth is he doesn’t know what he actually wants. He desperately wants to be loved, but he’s not sure of anything beyond that. That moment of hesitance spreads out over several seconds and Peter can see the hurt in Harry’s eyes. “I think so? I don’t know?”
Despite the pain in his eyes, Harry gives him a brittle smile and shakes his head. “I just need a yes or no, Peter.”
“But I just don’t know…I mean, I like you and everything, but…” Peter trails off, uncertain of what to say next. He picks at his nail bed, unable to maintain eye contact with Harry even though he can still feel his piercing gaze on him.
Harry’s eyes are frozen lakes as he bites his lip and turns away from Peter to stare out the window once again. “I think that’s my answer.”
“I’m sorry, Harry. I just don’t know…” Peter waves his hands in tiny circles, helplessly trying to convey his feelings. “I don’t know how to put into words how I feel!”
Harry sighs. “Look, Peter, I just want you to be vulnerable and real with me. For once. I just thought,” His voice goes very quiet, “I just thought you’d be able to tell me how you really feel. I don’t need to know everything about you, but I do need to know how you feel about me.”
This is worse than being dumped outright. Harry’s words sting and Peter feels like an utter ass, because he’s right. Harry’s not asking for much, just an honest answer, and Peter can’t even give him that. “It’s complicated. I’m sorry.”
Harry’s lips form a thin, displeased line. “It’s okay.”
“But we can still be friends, right?” Peter hopes that Harry can hear the genuine plea in his voice. He can’t afford to lose anyone else in his life and even if he can’t reciprocate Harry’s feelings, he can at least give him some sort of love.
Harry hangs his head sadly and gives it a little shake. “Sure.”
There’s a tightness in his voice that Peter has never heard before and he desperately wishes he could say yes and tell Harry everything he wants (deserves) to hear. “I’m sorry.”
Harry’s sigh turns into a sad half chuckle. “It’s okay.”
***
Peter walks to his bus stop alone, feeling more lost and lonely than he has in a very long time. Harry’s words echo in his head and pierce at the armor he’s carefully constructed over the past year: I just want you to be vulnerable.
***
All Peter wants to do when he gets home is lay in bed with the blankets pulled firmly over his head. He plans on spending the whole weekend safely cocooned.
However, the second he walks into their apartment, Peter lays that plan to rest. Something is up with Gwen. She’s grinning like a Cheshire cat and typing furiously at her computer with her legs curled underneath her as she sits on the couch at an awkward angle — too busy to even bother getting herself comfortable. He watches her type away and leans against the wall to check if she’ll even register his presence.
He gets impatient though and chooses to try her method instead. “Okay, spill the beans. What are you smiling about?”
Gwen looks up, completely surprised to see him there. “Nothing!”
Peter levels a look at her. He may not be good at lying but somehow Gwen is even worse than him. “Gwen.”
“I swear! It’s nothing! How’d your talk with Harry go?”
“No, no, no, you don’t get to turn around the subject on me.” He wags a finger at her, propelling himself off the wall and heading to their coffee pot to fix himself another cup. “Spill.”
Gwen gives him a long, suffering sigh (it’s a little dramatic, but that’s why they’re friends), and tilts her head back to look up at the ceiling. “Okay, remember that internship I was talking about?”
Peter adds a little cream to his cup, half-heartedly remembering her mentioning it a few months ago. “The one for the summer, that’s super selective — yeah, what about it?”
“I got it.” Gwen snaps her head forward to look at him directly and she bites her lip nervously.
“Really?!” He sets his coffee mug down, ready to throw his hands up in celebration. “Congrats! Gwen, that’s not nothing!”
“No, I know but…um,” She’s still nervously biting her lip and Peter brings his hands down, waiting with bated breath to hear the caveat.
“What?”
“It’s in England.”
And there it is. Peter can see the apprehensiveness in her eyes and the way she cringes around that sentence.“Oh.”
“I mean, I’m obviously not going right now. This is for the summer and it’s not even the entire summer, just ten weeks, and-” Gwen rambles nervously.
“Gwen.” Peter cuts in, knowing that she’s trying to reassure him that she’ll still be around. He can’t let her take on that responsibility. She keeps talking though, plowing ahead with logistics and Facetime hangouts
“Gwen.” He presses on, a little firmer this time, and walks to her spot on the couch. “Congratulations. Seriously, that’s amazing! You’re amazing!” He crouches down and wraps her into the strongest hug he can muster — he’s proud of her, even if a small selfish part of him wishes she were staying with him throughout the entire summer. He hears a muffled thank you and it makes it all worth it.
“Wait,” Gwen pulls away from the hug, still beaming brightly. “But seriously, how did talking to Harry go? Are you two official?”
Peter looks down, not wanting to ruin her moment. “Um. Not really. But it’s fine.”
“No.” Gwen frowns as she rubs her thumb soothingly on his arm. She understands from his tone that things definitely did not go well. “I’m sorry. What happened?”
“We’re just friends now.” He leaves it at that, unwilling to rehash it at this moment. He knows he’ll eventually tell Gwen everything, but he hopes that when he does it’ll be over some wine, ice cream, and a sappy romcom.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” He sighs. “But enough about me! Scooch over, I want to hear everything about your internship and England and what we’re going to do before you’re gone!” He injects his voice with fake chipperness as he playfully pushes Gwen to move. Sure, his summer is starting to look a lot more lonely without a cute boyfriend at his side and his best friend an entire ocean away, but he chooses to ignore that for the time being and just enjoy this moment with Gwen.
***
The thing about bad news, Peter has come to learn, is that it comes in threes. He’s already been blindsided by Gwen and Harry’s news, so he waits for the other shoe to drop.