You and Harry met in boarding school, and grew from close friends to lovers. He’d confided in you when he felt isolated and alone, especially when it came to his personal issues with his father.
He was twenty years old when Norman Osborn died from Retroviral Hypodysplasia, leaving the Oscorp legacy to Harry. He had to move back to New York, and ultimately decided to take you with him, wanting to start a life with you.
What he didn’t tell you, was that when he saw his father before he died… Norman revealed that the disease was genetic.
—
You and Harry were together in his lavish home after a long day of work, trying to help him… relax from all his stress…
He was trying to lose himself in you, to just forget about his problems for just a moment, his hands on your skin and his lips peppering your face and neck.
The moment didn’t last long. His hands started to tremble and twitch, something that he developed as a sign of the disease. You felt it, pulling away with a look of concern.
“Fuck, not now…” Harry muttered, cursing under his breath.
How was he supposed to tell you that he was sick? That he was dying…?