IC Inbox for Ryslig

[certaininequities]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, DR_OSBORN.

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<DR_OSBORN> You've reached Dr. Norman Osborn.
<DR_OSBORN> Please leave a message: I'll respond as promptly as possible.

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Comments

Forward-dated to after the event

[certaininequities]

Peter!!! I'm so sorry I missed this, I was - that split that happened, I was on the other side of it. I promise you I wasn't ignoring you. This -

Coming back to see this means more to me than you know.

[heyunderoos]

[After the first day, Peter didn't expect any response. So seeing this surprises him. It's a nice surprise. Peter needs a second to figure out what he wants to say before he does shoot a reply back.]

I was wondering if you got caught up in that weirdness. Are you okay?

I made you something. If you want it, I mean?

If not, that's cool too.

[certaininequities]

I am, yes. Thank you. When I found out that Joshua needed help while I was trapped, I couldn't just stand by. How have you been? I'm honestly surprised you wrote me.

[heyunderoos]

Yeah, I understand that. If you can help, you should. I would've done the same thing tbh.

I'm good I mean. Just adjusting to the house again Everything is starting to feel semi-normalish again...

I just wanted to say happy father's day, I thought I'd give you something if you wanted it...?

[He is so awkward right now, but he already hit send and can't take it back.]

[certaininequities]

tbh?

[he doesn't understand. also, the thought that Peter feels like things are settling ... it makes him happy just as much as it hurts. normal, without him. okay. he's going to have to keep accepting th -- no. wait. he rereads the message again, and realizes that he's probably just moping again. Peter wants to wish HIM Happy Father's Day. he claps a hand over his mouth, staring at the screen.]

You don't have to give me anything. Not after all of that. I - I don't feel worthy of that.

[heyunderoos]

[Norman is in luck since Peter has explained some texting slang to Otto before.]

'tbh' means to be honest. Its shorthand for texting.

I mean... I made you stuff? If you don't want it, it's fine!

I had started making it before the lake thing happened. I'd feel weird not giving it to you, since I made it for you.

[certaininequities]

Oh! That's useful. Thank you.

The fact that you still want to give it to me at all is incredible. I'd be honored.

If you still need time, you can drop it off at Liewen Labs... or I could meet you in the Cube. If you'd like to see, well. Me. The way I'm supposed to be.

[heyunderoos]

Otto thinks the slang is kinda silly, but its easier sometimes. Depends on how much time you have to type. Like BTW being by the way or idk for I don't know.

[Okay he's derailing himself. Focus.]

I'm still... mad, but I can't, not give you this-? I don't know. I celebrated Father's day with Otto too.

I care about both of you a lot. I'm just feeling a lot right now. idk.

We could... meet at the cube. I've never been there before.

[certaininequities]

All slang is a bit silly, Peter. The next time he gives you guff for it, ask him how many times he let Jonah call him a 'jive turkey'. Your internet acronyms don't have anything on some of the things we said in the 70s.

[that little detour from the tracks was nice, though. it felt like they were themselves again for a moment, and Norman holds on to it as tightly as he can without crushing it]

We're all feeling a lot. Let me know when you'd like to meet me at the cube. You can talk about as much or as little as you want.

[he'll just ... go there a bit ahead of time and start programming in the streets of Queens. don't mind him.]

[heyunderoos]

[The teenager does briefly laugh at that part of the message, wondering what other corny slang he missed.

His good mood dips as he settles back into the now of the moment.]

I'll keep that in mind for later. Jive turkey is- sure a phrase alright.

Would tomorrow be okay? I don't really know what your schedule is like anymore. So, I'm not sure when you're busy.

[certaininequities]

To be honest, I'm not sure what my schedule's like right now either. I had Marco cut down my hours so I could spend most of my time at the soup kitchen in town. Someone let me know that it lost its coordinator, recently, and - well.

I'm trying to do what you asked me to.

... Any time tomorrow is fine.

Text --> Action

[heyunderoos]

[Peter is a little surprised by that. He hadn't expected Norman to actually take action so quickly. It makes Peter feel a little guilty for moping around Hill House just recovering. He probably should be patrolling.

He needs to do that soon.]

Thank you. I'm sure the people at the soup kitchen appreciate it too. They told me they were a little short handed there and at the clinic.

Lets say the afternoon. I'll see you there.

[As promised, after the afternoon, the teenager arrives at the cube a little apprehensively. He's honestly never been to the cube before so he lingers by the entrance warily looking it over. Peter has a new backpack slung over his back. His last one hadn't exactly survived the incident at Lake Dala.]

A giant cube feels so super cursed. Mega cursed. [He mumbles that mostly to himself.]

[certaininequities]

[Norman had arrived early to do an immense amount of custom programming, so at the appointed time he comes out to the entrance, wearing khakis and the shirt that Peter had given him with holes carefully tailored - thank you Tawna - to allow for his new extra legs. He can see Peter mumbling to himself, but can't make out what he's saying, and decides it's probably nerves.]

Peter, glad you made it. It's ... I know it's intimidating on the outside, but - please believe me, it's amazing.

[he starts to lead the way down the hall]

You had lunch already, I hope? If you've eaten recently it's safe for us to stay a little longer than usual if we decide we want to.

[heyunderoos]

[At the sound of Norman's voice Peter stands up a little taller, as much as he can given his sudden loss of an inch since his return from the dead. The sight of the familiar shirt does soften Peter's expression somewhat.]

I'm gonna take your word since I've never really been here. Last time I like walked into a weird mysterious shape it was an alien ship. That ended like really bad. [He still walks forward to follow after Norman.]

Yeah, I had lunch. I'm- good to stay for a while. Did- you eat anything? [All the usual small talk feels so awkward and Peter kind of hates that.]

[certaininequities]

Yeah, no, trust me, no alien ships here unless you want to see them.

[he figures this has something to do with that Snap that Peter mentioned, and decides to not ask for more details.]

I had a sandwich earlier. I'm good. Here, it's this way...

[the hallways are lit with neon accents, and Peter might think it does look a little bit like a spaceship inside, save for the signs hanging from the fork in the corridor that say '<-- PRIVATE ROOMS' and 'ARENA -->'. Norman leads them off to the left, and gestures for Peter to open the first door.]

Here. After you.

[when he opens the door, Peter will find himself stepping right onto the streets of Queens. It's Norman's Queens, so some of the details are bound to be different, but ... it's still absolutely obvious what Norman's done for him]

[heyunderoos]

[Peter's gaze keeps flicking around the halls, curious but also mildly wary. The inside looks space ship-y enough to make him wonder who even built this place.

Not that the thought lasts particularly long as they come to a door. He opens it as instructed and walks forward into the room.

The sight of Queens immediately just knocks the air out of the teenager. It isn't exactly the neighborhood as he remembers it, but its close enough he stumbles forward. His grip tightening on the backpack straps as his breath shakes.]

...Oh.

[certaininequities]

[Norman watches him carefully, keeping his distance but wanting desperately to touch his shoulder]

... is this okay? Should I have done something else?

[heyunderoos]

I- no, no, its- [He sucks in another breath, and another, trying to regain his composure. He doesn't want to cry. He doesn't want to break down again.

His voice is very small when he does speak again.]

Its good. Thank you.

[certaininequities]

[he paused, not wanting to stammer his way through it. once he was sure he had his words in order. this was an important moment - and he'd learned how to make his words count in those. he'd just always misclassified them as board meetings, speeches, sound bytes. not moments with treasured people, full of emotion. no more of that. he was making sure he remembered what was really important.]

When I first arrived here, and I learned about this building: about why Elias built it for everyone, and what it could do? I only wanted to see one place: home. I don't know exactly what your home looked like, I wasn't there long enough, so ... This was as close as I could come. If you want, I can teach you the programming parameters, so you can make whatever you like, for some other time.

[the rest of the words come so easily, because he's said some of them before. he means them no less now than he did then. maybe, he hopes, this time, he'll get to make good on them]

I haven't been there for you the way I should have. Not by a long shot. I shouldn't have been so afraid to tell you everything, and I should have told you right away. But I want to make it up to you, Peter: I want to rectify every single one of those inequities. I know it won't happen overnight. But -

[he realizes he's done well to make it this far without faltering, without giving in to the raging hurricane of guilt, self-doubt, and self-loathing swirling through him. one hesitation might not look like a glaring weakness. he hopes it doesn't. he finally grasps that courage he was searching for, and puts his hand on Peter's forearm]

No matter what he did ... I still love you.

cw: vague suicidal idealation

[heyunderoos]

[Peter at best manages a few steps further, just looking at everything. He exhales slowly, tipping his head back as he listens to the sounds of Queens. It feels alive, eletric with activity. He can hear people going about their lives in the neighborhood.

If he pretends, if he just pretends...

Then Norman speaks, breaking the silence between them. The teenager turns back to the man. Peter doesn't interrupt, just soaking in Norman's words.]

I wish you had told me sooner. [It's an echo of words said to Otto. Not exact, but a simple enough statement. He does wish it had come before the goblin appeared, so the goblin hadn't been armed with so many secrets. So, he hadn't been able to hurt Otto and everyone else so badly.

Peter wishes none of it had happened, but wishes don't really mean much here and now.

What would May want? That's a question Peter ask himself. May never held a grudge, even when it was seemingly deserved. Peter never really could either. Like mother like son]

There is... a part of me that won't forgive you, not for a long time. May is- May shouldn't have died. I don't want to believe it. I'd rather be dead, it should have been me, not her.

I know- I know Goblin isn't you, but this is... so much. I'm so tired of everything being torn away from me as soon as I feel okay or safe.

[He rubs at his eyes a little, unable to keep tears from stinging at his eyes. He hesitates before placing his hand over the top of Norman's own.]

I still love you too. That hasn't changed. It's why I even- I even wanted to celebrate father's day with you.

[certaininequities]

Peter -!

[it's just one quiet protest, when he says he should have died and not May. then he holds himself back, and gives the boy space to talk. he nods, his face crinkling with sympathy and remorse. when Peter starts to cry, Norman squints, hating to see him in pain ...

and then Peter reciprocates, and suddenly they're both crying. Norman wraps his arms around Peter, pulling him into a gentle hug]

Every single thing you feel is valid, but one, and it's the only thing I'll correct you on: no one should have died.

[he steps back, not wanting to prolong the contact for so long that he frightens Peter or puts him back in any sort of place where he feels threatened.]

Peter, you're so good. I see so much of her in you: that kind heart, the compassion, all those things that He tried to spin as weakness ... I know the truth, I see them as so much strength. And I - I want to be more like you both. Which is why I'm askin' you to hold on to that anger. Keep it safe, in a special place somewhere. Take it out and show it to me if I'm being anything less than what you want me to be. What I should be.

[heyunderoos]

[Peter sniffles a little, tears starting to freely spill down his cheeks. He can't stop the tears now. He wishes he could.

He squeezes Norman gently before the man pulls away completely.] Yeah, I- I guess that's fair. No one should have died. [If he had been stronger, he could have achieved that.

He nods tearfully at that. He wipes at his eyes a little.] I can't say it'll be anger, but... I can remind you, if need be.

I just want everything to be okay.

[certaininequities]

Oh, Peter ...
'
[that does it, that wasn't nearly enough hug for him now that he's crying. Norman goes in for another one and just ... holds him, this time.]

It will be. We all care about each other too much for it not to.

[he keeps his voice soft, soothing, as he reaches up and strokes his hair, the way he did when they were in that comfortable pile, the last good memory before it all fell apart. maybe he's trying to pull that forward into the present, to keep it alive. maybe he's reaffirming that it never actually died, even though both of them did.]

You let out as much of that as you need to. It's okay.

[as he says it, some little lock inside him clicks open. a piece of green armor falls away and corrodes into dust]

[heyunderoos]

[There is no fight against the hug. Maybe a brief surprise at another hug, but the surprise melts away. He leans into the hug. He presses his face best he can against Norman's shoulder.

Peter weakly laughs, tears leaving a wet trail down the fur on his cheeks.]

I've cried too much already... I- I didn't even see her die and- [He chokes on the next sentiment, unable to finish it.] It's not fair, it's not fair.

[certaininequities]

No -

[his voice breaks, grieving right along with Peter. he'd liked May, himself, genuinely felt so grateful to her. she'd changed him, even before she'd talked Peter into curing them all]

- no, it's not, and I wish I knew what to say about that.

[the sounds of the city go on around them, unabated, even though there's not another actual person in sight. it's eerie, and yet somehow fitting. alone in their grief, but surrounded by life.]