||So what now?||Harry+Norman Osborn

[2, bonding time.]

Harry sat at his desk on his computer, reading random articles. He felt at peace, having forgotten that Bernerd and his father were to return to the mansion soon.

He heard the front door open from downstairs, and he got up to see who had come home. It was none other than Norman Osborn and Bernerd. "Ah, Harry, just the young man I wanted to see!" Norman said, a smile on his face and his arms spread open. "Hey, dad. What's the occasion? You usually stay until 7:30." Harry replied, standing at the top of the staircase. "I wanted to spend time with my son. Is that such a crime?" Norman had jokingly asked. Harry only stared at his father. "Oh, come on, don't look at me like that. I'm serious! I thought we could have some father-son bonding time!" Norman said, putting his arms down, his smile becoming crooked. Harry sighed, asking in response, "I guess there's no harm in that. What did you have planned?" Norman motioned for his son to come closer, patting his back when he did. "I was thinking we could finally eat dinner together? As a family would?" He said with a smile. Harry gave a fake smile, not knowing how to feel about this. Did his father think that just one dinner would make up for the years upon years of not being there for him?

The dinner was finished, and Harry and Norman were seated at their designated spots at the table, all the way across from each other. Norman awkwardly watched as his son ate, holding his fork while poking at the food. Harry avoided his father's eye contact like a laser. "So, Harry! Uhm.. how's Peter doing?" The taller, older man had asked, finally looking down at his own plate. Of course, the first thing he thought of was Peter. Harry was jealous of Peter. His father had always paid more attention to him and treated him more like a son than Harry ever had been treated. Harry tried to think of the flaws that he had, making him differ from his father. He hadn't been gifted with the knowledge of science and engineering like his father, yet he was still passing in both. He was expected to be passing by both his father and teachers, or else he would be putting shame to the family name.

Just then, Norman's phone rang. Norman's eyes anxiously shot to the phone on the table, ringing and glowing intensely. Norman did his best to hold back the urge to pick up the phone, his eyes darting from Harry to the buzzing device in front of him. "Dad.." said Harry, knowing what his dad would choose. "It'll just be quick, I promise! It's one of our ally companies, I have to, I'm sorry." Replied Norman, eagerly grabbing the phone and standing up from his seat and walking to his room. Harry threw down a napkin in anger. Even during their father-son bonding time, his father couldn't put one call on hold? How pathetic. Harry felt his ears get hot, and he felt tears begin to well up in his eyes. He stood up from his chair and left to his room, slamming the door once he made his entry.

Harry sat on his bed, breathing heavily as he let the tears roll down his neck uncomfortably. "There must be something wrong with me if he can't put his work life on hold for 20 minutes." Harry said, wiping the stinging pains from his eyes. "It's not fair. Not fair at all." He then said, grabbing a pillow and punching it over and over, imagining it was Peter's and his father's face. He punched and punched, each hard smack earning a louder grunt from the boy as he wept out of anger. Soon, he found himself dozing off while crying softly into his pillow, repeatedly apologizing to the soft, fragile mass he held in his arms.

Norman finally ended the hour and a half long business call with a "you take care now, bye-bye." He sighed and stood leaning, almost hunched over his desk, exhausted. All he wanted to do was to spend the evening with his only son, yet his busy life simply couldn't be put on hold, and that hurt the older man deeply. His son was all grown up now, and he would soon be working for his company, how fast the time had flown. It was seemingly just yesterday when his son was an ambitious, hyper, seven-year-old boy who loved baseball, Christmas, and windowshopping.

"Daddy, daddy! Can I get that tricycle? The red one?" He heard, echoing through his head as he got lost in his flashback. "Oh, I don't know, Harry...can you read me the price tag, please?" Norman replied to his young, jumpy boy. "It says.." he paused. "200 dollars?" Norman internally winced, knowing his company wasn't doing well. "Daddy's a little low on money, buddy. Maybe for Christmas! How's that sound?" Norman asked, hoping his boy wouldn't be too upset. "Aww, alright. Maybe Santa will bring it for me!" Harry said, giving a big smile. His father choked on the lump in his throat. "Maybe, buddy. Maybe."