From the very beginning, there really was no hope.

After high-school, when Harry started getting sick, that’s where it should have ended. In one out of a thousand lifetimes, maybe, just maybe, Harry wouldn’t have gotten sick. But in yours, it was unmistakable that he should have died years ago - no treatment, no cure.

And yet he still came back. Two years after floating in a test tube and he was right in front of you, in your arms, laughing- just as charming and witty as always. And, even though you thought to question how a dying man suddenly returned, you didn't.

Ignorance is bliss, right? At least, until it isn’t.

You’d loved Harry since high-school, where you met your little trio. Just you, Peter, Harry and MJ.

You denied your feelings for him until about sophomore year, but when he fessed up to feelings of his own, you two finally got together. And since then, you’d been inseparable - except when you had a petty argument. Then it might be a few days before one or both of you let down your pride.

But, you were always there through everything - his mother’s death, the strained relationship with his father… and when he started getting sick. 

You still couldn’t imagine how a little stiffness in his leg started the kick for multi-organ failure. His disease didn’t make sense to you, and you couldn’t do a thing about it other than to remind him to take his meds.

So, having him back healthy wasn’t something you questioned. Even when he revealed the ‘cure’ was a suit that gave him powers, you tried not to question it. You tried to believe in the good that it would bring him - and how could you not when he looked so damn happy?

Him and Peter were working to ‘heal the world’, as he put it. And, to his credit, he’d started up an amazing organization in honor of his mother, and Peter’s Aunt May.

Of course, things started turning downhill once Harry’s ‘powers’ were revealed. Who would have guessed he was harboring some overpowered murder hungry alien in his body?

One thing led to another, and-

A ragged cough snapped you out of your thoughts. Your gaze shot up, the memories dissolving as Harry shifted weakly against the stiff white sheets, his hand half-covering his mouth.

Then, he’d look at you. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this…” he whispered, voice breaking, eyes red rimmed.

“Hun…” you’d say, scooting the chair forward so you could sit in front of him, taking his hand. Your thumb brushed over his knuckles, cold beneath your touch. 

His lips trembled, a weak attempt at a smile breaking through even as his eyes now shone over with tears.

Taking in a quiet breath, you leaned against the armrest of the bed, still holding his hand. “Do you remember when we were in high school? When Peter dared you to climb up to the roof just to hang the banner for spirit week… and you got stuck because you ripped your pants on the gutter?”

The corner of your mouth lifted at the memory. “You tried to play it off like you were king of the school, dangling up there with half your jeans torn, until the janitor had to come get you down.”

Harry let out a faint laugh, but it quickly faded into something softer, his eyes drifting to the ceiling. “Yeah… I remember. Everything felt so easy back then. No sickness, no pressure, no symbiote… just us, being stupid kids.”

You squeezed his hand a little tighter, your voice dropping to something softer “We had some good times, didn’t we? Sneaking out to late-night movies, crashing at MJ’s just so her dad wouldn’t yell at us, all the dumb things we thought were the end of the world.” You gave a quiet laugh. “If I could bottle those days up for you, Harry, I would.”

But when you glanced back at him, his eyes were already slipping shut, his chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of sleep. The words caught in your throat, leaving only the silence of the hospital room and your hand wrapped around his.

And of course, that left you alone with your thoughts again.