He remembers this place being—— bigger. A part of him thinks, a little bitterly, that he shouldn’t feel so out of place. But that seems less and less true the longer he stands here, on the street of the old neighborhood he use to play on as a boy, decked in leather suede shoes and a tailored Armani suit. He tucks his hands into the pockets of his slacks and tries to find some semblance of nostalgia, but he’s spent ten years burying everything about his boyhood that he feels close to nothing. And then he looks at Peter. Peter Parker, missing braces and taller than him, and they’re both different, down to the bone, but he smiles anyway. It’s the first time the gesture stretches his lips with a touch of sincerity.
”Neighborhood’s smaller than I remembered. ——-listen, Peter, I shouldn't be here. I can afford to eat somewhere else.” Then again, home-cooked meals were practically priceless, considering how few he’s had. He vaguely remembers Aunt May’s cookies being very good.
THE INVITATION had been extended to harry for more reason than a simple reunion. now that he was back, and since the death of his father, aunt may had insisted on having him over for dinner ; fearful that he'd stray too far, distance himself more so than the last decade had done to the both of them. they'd each grown and split off, living their separate lives, each making a NAME for themselves. but now he was back. the one friend peter had had during his childhood. they'd been through thick and thin together. he wasn't about to brush him off.
a frown furrows his brow, only faintly irked. however, his tone plays off light-hearted.
❛ you're not payin', har. it's spaghetti & meatballs.
we'll try not t'get any tomato sauce on your specky shoes.
---- c'mon, aunt may really wants to see you. ❜
