A Lot Can Happen In A Year // parkner

4

Chapter 4

School is always boring. Even if you have friends that laugh along with your silly jokes, or if you have extracurriculars that make it a tad bit more interesting. However, Harley probably wouldn't know about that, considering he had zero amount of friends growing up and about random strangers bullying him.

He didn't have a father figure. Unless you count Iron-fucking-Man as his father figure, but they lost contact after maybe a few months of talking biweekly. It's pathetic. It's pathetic that Harley walks the halls with pride and confidence, watching the girls and men and not even them swoon under his light. He looks like he is all the right edged, not sharp or soft, just cold but inviting. Like an enigma singing under the moonlight, looking like a puzzle that's waiting to be solved by the right person.

Anyone who even wants to come up to him is immediately welcomed with a cold glare, which makes every person back down with a slight shiver down their spine.

Except one person.

"My name's Flash Thompson. Yours?" The boy had gelled back hair, whilst somehow looking more douchey than cool or *sexy".

"Harley," he responded, not really wanting to converse right now.

"Right Harley, what do you think about joining my little group of friends? You'll go up the social ladder as soon as possible."

"No."

The boy has this dejected look on his face that made Harley almost want to squirm away and just run into a bathroom. The look is way too familiar for him to feel comfortable with. He just walked on by, and from his peripheral vision, he sees the boy, "Flash", huff and walk up to a moderately tall, lanky, messy haired and baby face boy.

Shaking his head, he just walks into the room he assumed is his AP chemistry class.

As it seems, the door is not quiet when opened, and is in fact, quite squeaky and loud and obnoxious.

Slightly wincing, he strides into the classroom; instantly noticing that everyone is watching him with a careful stare. It isn't like he is that dangerous, unless you knew what he did to keep his family and himself alive.

"Oh, I'm guessing you're Harley," the teacher assumes as he strides into the middle of the room.

"Yes."

"Okay, um, introduce yourself?" She made it seem like a question, but it is obvious it is a demand. It always is. And it is always the most awkward part of the morning. Also, it is kind of weirdly saddening to see her ignore the fact that he is the boy she toured literally yesterday.

"Harley Keener, moved from Tennessee. Not very interesting if I'm goin' to be honest," he replies with, his voice littering with faux confidence and pride and coldness.

"Well, what do you like to do?"

"Breathin' is interetsin', but ya know, nothin' really."

"Okay, just sit down next to Peter Parker," the teacher pauses and points to the same baby faced boy he saw getting tormented by the obnoxious Flash guy, "and everyone remember to be extremely kind and friendly!"

Peter groans as he waves the dirty blonde over towards the seat that was empty. It is now his vow, his job, his profession, to ignore this guy for the rest of his life. Just the confidence, the pride that wavered of the guy was overwhelming, almost as if Peter took some strange Harry Potter potion that made him nauseous.

Harley isn't nowhere near ugly, in fact extremely handsome and the confidence he wears is very complimentary to the hair, the leather jacket and the skinny jeans that are wrapping around his legs very nicely. No, he is not "simping" for a guy, absolutely not, especially because he isn't even close to him yet and never will be. No. He's just simply complimenting the way he looks. In fact, Peter is so in his own mind, he doesn't realise that Harley has already sat down and the class has started with every student almost scrambling to write notes on time.

And although Peter may be top of the class, the pain of just listening through things he already knows is dreadfully boring and he just wishes for it to end. He's so close to dozing off when he feels his new seatmate tapping his shoulder to get his attention back to the front, and of course that's when he realises the teacher is staring at him like he is crazily strange.

Peter just sighs and answers the question easily, his hands aching to make a new web solution for his web shooters and for his Spider-Man business thing.

He doesn't pay attention until he hears a faint, "Penis," somewhere from behind him. How quickly he turns could truly give someone whiplash.

"Penis. Penis. Peeeeeenis. Parker. Parker. Penis—finally!!! Do you want to swap seats? I think Harley there would like to sit next to me more than you," Eugene "Flash" Thompson states to him, and honestly, Peter could care less right now about what Flash thinks because if they do switch, the teacher will go heated.

"Do I not get a say in this?" Peter hears Harley ask to Flash in a cold, almost disturbingly emotionless way.

"No," he hears Flash reply in response to the honestly, amazing question Harley just asked.

"Well, I'm goin' to think I have. Ya ain't gonna shut up if you sit next ta me, and I ain't really gonna appreciate that."

Then he hears Harley turn around back to the front. Peter's mind is running laps right now. Did that just happen?

Flash scoffs much more loudly than Peter would like, his heightened hearing makes his eyes ring and his eyes scoot up towards the clock.

Amazing, spectacular, genuinely so so magnificent. He still has thirty minutes. Fuck.