They All Wear Masks

"Give a man a mask and he will tell you the truth." -Oscar Wilde


5. ~ Five ~



    Peter poised the syringe above the crook of Harry’s arm. Its tipped dripped just a drop of green fluid onto his pale skin, and Harry hissed through his teeth- although that may have been an after affect of Pater having to rip the armour off his arm. 

    “Just do it. Quickly.”

    Peter locked eyes with Harry. When blue and brown paint mixed, he knew, it ended up a murky taupe colour. Not so with their eyes- every glance brightened them, and Harry’s were now an near impossible colour- almost glowing. 

    Peter plunged the syringe down and pushed the antidote into Harry’s veins.

    A scream ripped through the lab. Harry’s knees buckled, and Peter tried to catch him but Harry was writhing like a snake in his agony, impossible to hold onto. Peter couldn’t bear the pain, even though he wasn’t the one experiencing it. He could only watch, helpless, as Harry tore at the armour with his shortening fingernails, clenched his eyes shut as though he could block out the light of his torture.

    Peter sunk to his knees and held Harry as best as he could, fighting against the fighting. 

    It seemed to last forever, Harry’s cries becoming hoarser and hoarser, even as the light of day tinted his blond hair and shed gold over his mutilated body. 

    But all things have to end.

    Peter hadn’t slept, but dozed, arms still wrapped around Harry’s unyielding armour. Even so, the sudden blaze of midday light through the windows of the OsCorp lab made him jump, and he only then realised how groggy he felt. He wrenched his eyes open and stilled for a moment. If he stayed still, then by Schrödinger’s rule, Harry would be fine. Harry couldn’t die if Peter didn’t shake him to check.

    Peter shook him.

    Harry didn’t respond at first, but gradually there was a grinding of metal as the grotty armour shifted around his body.

    Peter kissed him.

    Somehow, everything had turned out fine. Happy ending. 


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