Chapter 29: Birth of Black - part 2

Yesterday.

When I woke up, my father—Norman Osborn—was gone.

I was collapsed on the floor, my memories hazy.

My father had escaped.

And I… I let him in.

And then—

The hidden room behind the wall.

The suit and the glider were both gone.

…He must have taken them.

No—he didn’t. The Green Goblin did.

I pressed the switch camouflaged in the mirror frame, shutting the door.

—This room is still necessary.

…No, that's not right.

There’s no reason it should be.

This room needs to be dismantled. I should report it to the police and have them confiscate everything in it as evidence.

So why did I just think it was necessary…? I pushed away that strange thought, as if I weren’t myself, and still—I left the door shut.

Looking into that room makes me feel like I'm being forced to stare down my father's crimes. It makes me sick.

Outside… it was already bright.

The clock said it was five a.m.

My head was spinning, but I made my way to the kitchen and drank some water.

It cleared things up a little.

I walked to the front door and picked up the newspaper.

That morning’s edition.

Maybe… maybe there’d be something about my father disappearing.

I opened the paper—

—and learned that my father had died.

Now, I was standing at New York’s Metropolitan Hospital.

Because one of my father’s—no, the Green Goblin’s—victims was here.

I had stopped at a florist to buy a bouquet and dressed formally so as not to offend anyone… and then came to the hospital.

I thought I needed to offer an apology. To pay compensation. To show sincerity.

A father’s crimes are a son’s burden.

Besides… yesterday, I welcomed him into my home.

Let my emotions cloud my judgment, let a criminal into my house, and ended up helping him commit those crimes.

That’s my sin now.

…The woman he hurt—her identity hasn’t been made public.

Her family requested it be kept secret.

The only ones who know are her, her family, and me—the son of the criminal.

I had to atone.

As someone involved in the incident… and as the son of the one responsible.

I had to make things right with the woman who had been hurt.

So I clutched the bouquet and sat in the hospital’s waiting room.

But… that’s as far as I got.

I couldn’t bring myself to go any farther.

If I showed up, I’d only make her uncomfortable.

She’d probably curse me, curse my father.

Even if I promised her a future without worry, she’d be right to ask what gave me the right.

…I had already heard from the doctor about her condition.

Severe injuries to her forehead and the back of her head. Spinal damage leaving her paralyzed from the waist down.

A wound that can never be undone.

How could I ever make that right?

What am I even supposed to do?

Why… why did he…

I just kept spiraling, and time kept slipping past.

I’m a coward. A pathetic coward.

Unable to decide. Pushing everything off.

With my eyes down, staring at the flowers—

“…What are you doing?”

A voice spoke to me.

The voice I wanted to hear most.

The voice I least wanted to hear.

It shook me.

“…Michelle?”

There she was… the girl I had feelings for. Michelle Jane.

…I looked away.

“…My father—”

I began to speak, hesitating, piece by piece.

That I let my father in. That he died. That he hurt someone.

That I don’t know what to do anymore.

Michelle listened.

“…I see.”

That’s all she said, with a small nod.

I grew anxious and looked at her.

…She looked at me with a sad, pitying gaze.

“…I’m pathetic… No, this isn’t what I meant to say… I just don’t have the strength… I’m sorry. For saying something so pitiful.”

“It was pitiful.”

When she said that, I looked down again.

But then Michelle spoke once more.

“…But being pitiful doesn’t mean you’ve done something wrong.”

Hearing something I hadn’t expected… I slowly looked back up.

“You could’ve just run away—from the responsibility, from the guilt. But you didn’t. You’re trying to face it head-on. That’s… really admirable, Harry.”

Michelle took my free hand—the one not holding the bouquet.

Her hand was soft, warm, and filled with kindness.

“Michelle…”

“And you don’t need to call me ‘Miss’ or anything. I’m not that important… and I’m younger than you, anyway.”

Her words… made me a little happy.

But then I remembered—I’m not someone who should be allowed to feel that kind of happiness.

Not now. I can’t let myself be distracted by emotions like that. I have to stay focused. I have to act for the victim’s sake.

“…Thank you, Michelle. I’m going to go apologize. I’ll do everything I can to make sure the victim… she can live her life without struggle. Even if it costs me everything.”

“…Yeah. I think that’s the right thing.”

Michelle let go of my hand… and for a second, I felt a pang of loneliness.

I stood up from the waiting room chair too.

“…But Harry? Do you even know which room the victim is in?”

“…Ah—no. I figured I’d just ask at the front desk and head over.”

“They probably won’t tell you. Not unless you’re a relative or a close friend.”

With that, I realized how thoughtless I’d been.

“…Damn. I guess I’ll have to come back… get a proper appointment first—”

“I know it. Her hospital room. I can take you.”

When she said that, I—

Wait.

How does she know the room?

The only people who know are—

“I’m her friend.”

I felt like the floor dropped out from under me.

I stood outside Gwen’s hospital room.

I didn’t think it was right for me to be part of Gwen and Harry’s conversation.

Honestly, I was too late in helping her… and because of that, Gwen ended up with injuries that will never heal.

If Harry feels guilty for what happened to her, then I feel it even more.

And… Harry still loves his father.

He says he doesn’t. He says he rejects Norman—but I can tell. He still clings to the father who used to be kind to him.

And I’m the one who killed that father. For me to be standing next to Harry… it doesn’t make sense.

Back there, I only spoke to him because he looked so lost. I couldn’t just leave him like that.

But to speak to him like a friend, like someone close… I don’t think I have that right.

Something clattered inside the room.

I leaned in to listen.

“…Then give it back…”

I heard Gwen’s voice.

“Give me… my legs back…”

Her voice trembled with quiet sobs.

…I had misunderstood Gwen.

She’d always acted strong around me, Peter, and Ned.

I thought that meant she really was strong.

But she’s just a sixteen-year-old girl.

Her future was ripped away from her in an instant.

She loves fashion, but now she…

I clenched my fists.

I opened the door and stepped inside.

Gwen was crying.

Both Gwen and Harry looked startled to see me.

But I ignored them and walked over to Gwen… and embraced her.

“M-Michelle… I thought you left…”

“…………”

I tried to say something… but nothing came to mind.

When she used to hug me, I always felt safe… it made me happy.

So now… I hugged her back.

“Michelle…?”

“…Sorry.”

Even then, all I could say was an apology.

She got hurt… because I didn’t arrive in time to stop it.

If only I’d gotten there sooner… this never would’ve happened.

As I held her while she cried, I ended up crying too.

We clung to each other in silence, both of us crying.

…That went on for a few minutes.

Once Gwen had calmed down a little, I told her that Harry was someone I knew—and that he was kind and dependable.

…When I said “dependable,” Gwen gave Harry this look, like she was trying to size him up.

Like she was judging whether or not he could really be trusted.

Probably.

She wiped her tears with a tissue and finally spoke.

“…Honestly, I don’t trust Harry. I mean, he’s the son of the guy who did this to me…”

“…I’m sorry.”

“But if Michelle says she trusts you—then I’ll trust Michelle. Even if I can’t trust you, I can trust her.”

For the first time, Gwen showed a faint smile.

Then Harry offered to cover all of Gwen’s hospital bills, her medical care, and anything else she might need.

He didn’t try to pretend money could fix everything, but the truth is, without it, things would be hard. That’s just a fact.

And Gwen herself… thinking about the burden this would place on her family, she accepted Harry’s offer with gratitude.

We hugged one last time before parting ways.

When I said I’d come again tomorrow, she said, “You don’t have to come that often,” but her voice was bashful and happy.

When I asked if there was anything she wanted, she told me, “Just having you visit is enough,” and I ended up blushing too.

I left the room with Harry in tow.

Outside the window, I could see the faint glow of sunset.

We’d stayed longer than I expected.

Thinking that, I glanced at Harry beside me.

He looked a bit better than he had when we first met today.

Maybe noticing me staring, Harry spoke, his expression suddenly serious.

“Michelle… you and Gwen really are close, huh?”

He almost said her name with a polite honorific, then corrected himself and called her just “Gwen.”

I couldn’t help but smile a little.

It just felt so… him. That honesty and awkward sincerity.

“You think so?”

“Yeah. You really care about each other. I think… you’re great friends. I guess… I kind of envy that.”

Harry looked down as he said it.

He’d mentioned it before, briefly.

He used to have good friends. Used to.

Not anymore.

Ever since his father committed his crimes as the Green Goblin, people had drifted away from him.

Friends he thought he could rely on. Even the butler he trusted. All of them—gone.

He’s alone now.

And he’s hurting.

What he needs… is someone.

I hesitated for a moment, then said:

“Harry… you’re my friend too.”

“…Michelle?”

I probably don’t have the right to call myself his friend.

But he needs someone.

“So I care about you. And if you ever feel lost… if you’re ever hurting—tell me. I’ll be there.”

He needs someone who’ll treat him kindly. Someone to stand beside him.

And if no one else can be that person—then I will.

Because… he’s good.

And honestly, I like him as a person.

When I said that, he… started crying.

Not loudly. Just quietly, as if he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“…Thank you.”

“Mm… But when I’m having a hard time, you’ll help me too, right?”

“Of course.”

That was when Harry smiled—for the first time today.

We walked together back to the waiting room.

“Should I walk you home?”

“…Hmm. I’m not sure.”

I hesitated at Harry’s offer.

He didn’t mean anything by it. I could tell he was asking out of pure concern.

The sun was setting outside. By the time I got home, it would probably be dark.

…And New York in this world isn’t exactly safe.

Given that, his offer made perfect sense.

But the way he said it so casually, so naturally… it just reaffirmed for me that he really is kind, and someone you can rely on.

“I could flag down a cab and cover the fare, if that’s better…”

“Michelle?”

Just then, someone called my name.

…Huh? I thought he’d gone home already.

That familiar voice made me turn around—and sure enough, there was Peter.

Ned wasn’t with him.

Harry turned around a little later, also reacting to the voice.

“Ah, Peter? I thought you already left…”

“Yeah, Ned went home… but I wasn’t sure it was okay to let you walk home alone. By the way, who’s this?”

Peter’s gaze shifted to Harry.

…He looked slightly on guard.

“This is Harry.”

I deliberately introduced him with just his first name.

I didn’t mention “Osborn”—didn’t say he was Norman’s son.

“And Harry, this is Peter.”

I introduced Peter to Harry in turn.

“…So you’re Peter, huh…”

Harry mumbled it under his breath, clearly sizing him up.

Peter was smiling, but… something about him felt guarded, too.

Both of them were smiling.

And yet—

…Huh?

The air suddenly grew tense.

There was this prickling sense between them, and I didn’t understand why.

I stood there, confused.