Harry Osborn was born with a Silver Spoon in his mouth. To any person on the outside, he had everything. He never had to want for anything. He always had the best clothes, his fridge was as full as his wallet. There was so much that he was handed that so many wished they had.
He would happily trade all his possessions for even a moment of acceptance from his father.
The outside world would never see how Norman brough fitness trainers to their home gym and forced his son to exercise until he was vomiting in the corner. A fat son was not needed.
His clothing was heavily monitored, everything planned out ahead of time. Norman would not allow him to wear anything that would put the family in a bad light. Boring colors, scratchy textures, but at least they were high class brands, right?
Still, Norman still found something wrong. Every morning he would make him go change into a different outfit. Fix his hair. Put on light makeup. Over and over until eventually the older man would sigh, heavily and disappointed, and said that it would have to do.
No matter how hard he worked to be the perfect son, he was never good enough.
He leaned heavily on Gwen in high school. She was sweet. Sensitive. She saw him as a person and not a name. She wanted to see him get out from under his father's grasp and he loved her for it in a way that they both agreed was purely platonic. Gwen was the only one who knew he was pretty sure he was gay.
She went with him to college, because she was smart and he had money. It worked out.
They both met Peter there. It was the best and worst day, Harry thinks in hindsight.
Peter and Gwen were cute together. Almost perfect. The fact that Harry saw them both less was natural. It was fine that they were obviously hiding something from him. That's how couples were, he guessed. It didn't stop the pang in his chest as Mary Jane and Gwen became fast friends. Everything was going good for them. They were all four still friends. They just sometimes got along better without him.
It was hard. Losing Gwen. He was there for her family, helped with funeral cost, the planning. They were more grateful that Peter was there. Always Peter.
He had thought that trying to be straight for his father would be easier. MJ was a beautiful woman, despite the fact that they both looked at Peter the same way when he walked away. The two friends Harry had left joined them for dinner and he watched as both his father and his girlfriend sat enamored with the man he thought he might love.
MJ dumped him. She was with Peter by the end of the week.
It was a small comfort to think that Peter was straight. It made it easier to keep his hopes and expectations low if he had no chance. Then he caught wind that Peter was having a fling with Flash Thompson while he and Mary Jane were on a break. Now it wasn't a matter of being straight. His gut twisted into knots as he bit at his lip, suppressing tears. Of course he wasn't boyfriend material.
He would still be the best friend Peter had, right?
Norman came and went. Green Goblin brought his father's demise. He tried to take up that mantle.
He had barely left the first fight alive.
He couldn't even make a good villain. He wasn't a good rival.
What else was new?
He sat as his table waiting for Peter at their usual restaurant to have their little friendly get-together. Peter slid in ten minutes after they agreed to meet up and Harry congratulated him for being early. This was their routine. They ate and talked and hoped that things would go right. Peter was close to getting evicted. Again. Harry had a barren appartment. This could work out. Harry extended his offer with a soft smile, careful not to patronize the other man. He said he would think about it.
Harry should have known that it would be too good to be true. He got the call, hoping that it would be good news. It was. Very good news. Just not for him.
That special secret friend that Peter went out with, that Peter slept with. They were official. They were going to be fine without him.
Everyone was better without him.
"That's great news, Pete!" Harry had cheered as his heart broke for what felt like the hundredth time. "I'm glad you two worked it out. We should get drinks this weekend. Celebrate the end of a will-they-won't-they saga. I still have to meet this special friend of yours."
"Sounds fun. We can try," Peter assured. Harry knew that tone by heart. They weren't going to. And it was stupid to even think that they would.
Harry sat on his bed, a bottle of antidepressants in his hand. He was barely keeping himself together. Forget the pills, he needed something stronger.
Half a bottle of whiskey and a shot or two of tequila later and the tears were flowing freely as he kept asking his only question over and over.
"Why aren't I good enough?"