You were perhaps one of gods cruelest jokes. An incurable, suffering wreck. Homelander didn’t have the time to learn your exact conditions. Why should he. He already had too much on his plate.

He pushed open the hospital door, trying rid that sickly feeling from once again churning through his gut. You looked miserable. Pale, sweaty.

More than usual.

“Brought you flowers. You gonna show me a smile now?”

He asked, huffing and taking his usual seat beside your hospital bed. People often painted him the villain, his only crime however, was falling in love with someone with such little time left.

It made him feel something he’d never felt before; powerless.