By Sunlight (P.P + M.J)

30. Music of the Night

*Werewolf's pov*

Peter was having Harry over tonight at the apartment as well as Ned, and they were going watch Rogue One. They would have fun, a good time between three old friends, Jack thought as he rubbed his hands together.

Jack stood on the roof of the Parker's apartment building, far too afraid to visit the people that were hanging out below. He had told Peter that he had wanted to patrol tonight rather than stay in with them. Not wanting to hide anything from his best friend, he had been truthful when he said he wouldn't be comfortable being in such close proximity to Harry. It wasn't Harry's fault though, Jack had made that perfectly clear, but if he was being honest just to himself, Harry had kept him on edge ever since Jack had rattled off his made-up backstory. There was something about him, the werewolf supposed, and he couldn't quite explain what. But just knowing who his father was and if by some chance Mr.Osborn dropped him off, Jack would panic. The very thought had been enough to nearly cause him to hyperventilate, and he had grabbed his backpack and bustled out of the apartment to the roof as quick as he could.

Now a little bit more relaxed, Jack scrolled through his phone, trying his best to keep his mind off the company downstairs. He got a text from Peter asking if he was okay, and Jack quickly responded, saying he was. That was a half-truth, he reasoned, not a total lie. He tried his best to focus on his phone. His Tumblr dashboard was full of pictures of him with fans at the convention, especially the group photo he had taken with the furries there. It did enough to distract him for a moment, but his thoughts turned dark as he thought of Mr.Osborn lurking somewhere in the city. What if he tried to catch Jack again? Would he try to, or was the presence of Mr.Stark in Jack's life enough to keep him at bay? He shut his eyes as a painful memory resurfaced in his mind, and he felt his fingernails dig into his palms as he tightly balled his fists, his heartbeat picking up speed.

"I got people after me, Mr.Osborn," a younger, exhausted and malnourished Jack Russell said as he sat across from the millionaire in his limbo. His flaming orange hair was wild, his half-naked figure unkempt from days of running. The werewolf had been wandering around New York's forests when the man had picked him up. "You could be putting yourself in danger."

"Don't you worry, son, no one's gonna touch you as long as you're with me," Mr.Osborn assured him, "just stop worrying and relax."

"But he could find me, Sir, the guy chasing me. He's got eyes everywhere," Jack argued, his voice hoarse and full of fear as he shrank against the leather seats of the car.

"So do I, Mr.Russell. So do I."

Jack shuttered, his veins turning icy, though not because of the cold. His lungs cramped up, his breaths growing shallow. His entire chest felt tight and his head hurt. He was close to crying. He could feel tears start to line his eyes, and with a hazy mind, he quickly opened up his contacts. His fingers were shaky and it took forever to find the right number, but when he finally did, he hit call and put his phone to his ear. He was feeling faint, like air wasn't making it all the way to his lungs. He leaned against the cement railing of the building and ran a hand through his hair, newly lightened from his past transformations.

"You okay, Jack?" Was MJ's immediate question, and Jack felt himself smile.

"Count," He wheezed, his voice far shakier than he would've liked to admit.

"Okay, breathe in for four seconds, remember? With me now; one, two, three, four," she ordered, and he obeyed, sucking in air as she counted. He stopped when she said, "hold it. Now breathe out for seven. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven..."

Once again he did as he was told, and he could feel his heart hammering against his ribcage as she softly continued, "good, now breathe out for eight; one, two, three, five, six, seven, eight..."