summary:
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Peter is hurt from Mysterio.

Harry so happens to be on the train.

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Going to Europe would be fun, Norman said.

Yeah, right.

Harry hated it- alone, rich, upset, lonely, bored and honestly he just craved the sense of familiarity he was missing since he was a kid. But no. Dad had to send him away- said it was important he grew on his own or some bullshit, even though Harry had to know everything when he was a child since Norman was too lazy to help him. Or traumatised. Or in mourning.

Harry didn't care which one.

So, moody, grumpy, tired, he sat himself on the last carriage on the train, at the front of it, settling himself against the wall with a yawn. He hated being around people... That was why he picked the empty one. Glossy eyes stared out the window, reading strange conspiracy theories on Spider-Man being Night Monkey (it was not too far fetched to be fair), and everything was going smoothly until...

The train beeped.

A slight bump.

A tunnel.

Harry didn't question it, engulfed into the welcomed darkness that was only illuminated by lights that flickered with the speed he was going on. He was falling asleep slowly. Listening to the music playing in his headphones.

Something... something was up on the train.

He turned around.

A boy.

A boy with dark clothes.

Bloody fingers.

He ripped off his mask.

Pale. Bloodied. Bruised. Tearful.

Harry... recognised him.

Familiarity.

The boy stumbled, gripping onto the chair, groaning loudly, hyperventilating, trying to stay awake. But he collapsed onto some chairs, and with gulping gasps, he went silent.

Harry pulled out his headphones.

"Night Moneky?" He whispered, but wondered over.

A gasp left him. "Peter Parker? What the f..." he trailed off and put his hand to his leg.

The boy didn't stir.

What the hell had happened to him?

He took his face into his hand and flinched with the blood dripping to his hand. He adjusted where he sat, so he sat properly, and he realised he could be dying, judging by his struggles breaths.

He hesitantly began to remove his clothes, making sure to not stare at his very attractive body, and Harry sharply inhaled upon seeing the greenish purple bruise which had formed around his ribs.

Again, he inhaled, exhaled, trying to keep himself calm.

He couldn't be sure about internal bleeding, but by how he wasn't dying it didn't seem so.

What had happened?

"Uh... Night Monkey?" He asked, poking his cheek in a weak attempt to wake him.

Instead of the silence he expected, the boy startled awake and thrashed around, "My-Mysterio!" He yelled as he did so, hitting his hand to Harry's chest, causing him to grown.

"Jesus Christ, Parker. Don't do that to me." He growled, rubbing his chest, but then the brunette flinched and frowned, "ow... ah... Mysterio? Is that... is that you?"

"No. Do I look like a superhero to you, Pete?" He grumbled and studied the gaping wound that was in Peter's back... He needed stitches.

"No.. no. He got away. No... Ned... MJ..." His voice was already fading, along with his consciousness, and Harry tapped his face lightly. "Hey, Hey. Stay with me here. I'm gonna take you to a hospital."

Peter's eyes popped from his head. "No! No... no hospital. Please... I need to save them."

"Looking like this? You'll be dead if you even try to land a blow on someone." Harry hissed and pulled his hoodie off, using it to dab Peter's heavier wounds, then applied pressure to it. Peter's gasp was expected. "Who are you..?"

"Of course you can't remember me." He murmured sourly to himself. Falling silent as Peter gasped quietly, teary eyed.

"I—I'm sorry." He said, "I'm sorry... you're not from around here, are you...? American... accent..." he murmured, gesturing to Harry, which caused Harry to shake his head.

"Grew up in New York. I'm here for a year." He said simply and then sighed, "I do have to take you to the hospital, Peter."

"I can't. No... I'll be alright. I promise. Heightened healing and all..." He smiled and tried to sit himself up, only making him pause, brows furrowed, hand against his stomach. Harry took mental notes with how he made his expressions. He looked very pretty...

Peter leaned his head on Harry's shoulder, breathing.

Harry blushed.

After a moment of silence where Harry pressed his hoodie into the wound, but then Peter sat up quickly, eyes comically wide and puffy with redness, clear from being hit by a train.

"Harry?"

The boy looked at him, "wow. Now you remember."

"You look awful." Peter said with a small smile, causing Harry to roll his eyes.

"You're the one that just got hit by a train."

Peter laughed a bit, holding his stomach.

"Same ol' Harry."

"Can't say the same to you." His finger brushed on his cut lip, and Peter leaned into his touch, looking more tired than before.

Peter hummed. "Well... I supposed we both changed." He said, and Harry took away his hand from his face. "Come back to my apartment for an hour or two. I'll help you out."

Peter let out a long sigh, holding his bloodied side. "You won't let me go off on my own, will you?"

"No. I guess you do know me, Spider-Man."

The hero smiled weakly, "nice to have you back, Harry."

The End.

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Word count: 897