Work Text:
Harry was alive.
Harry Osborn was alive.
Even though he wished he wasn’t.
Harry had been in a coma for almost three years. Two years, eight months, and four days to be exact. Peter had been counting. Peter had also been visiting him at least once every two days, even though he secretly hated it. He hated seeing Harry like that. Helpless, vulnerable.
Peter had been sitting in the same spot for hours. He was supposed to be working on a couple of unfinished Emily-May projects. Secretly, he had been sketching and coming up with some new Spider-Man tech. He knew he was supposed to be on a break from being the Web-Slinger, but he just couldn’t help it. He kind of…missed being so busy he couldn’t breathe. It gave him something to think about. It gave him something else to worry about.
Just as he was becoming absorbed in his own thoughts, a ringing snapped him back into reality. A ringing he hadn’t appreciated in a while. A ring he had half a mind to ignore. Peter stood up out of his seat just enough to reach for his phone, but when he caught a glimpse of the name lighting up the screen, he froze; his hand hovering over the buzzing mobile. He blinked, straightening his vision. He stood completely out of his seat, picking up the phone and holding it to get a closer look.
Harry’s name and picture lit up the phone, his big toothy smile plastered for the whole world to see. A picture from High School that Harry had begged Pete to delete a few years back. Peter had told Har he deleted it, and then used it against him as blackmail a couple months later, but Peter has always denied it.
Peter’s thumb went to reach for the bright green ‘answer’ button, but as it was just hovering above, the screen flushed black again. Frantically–and on the verge of losing his mind– Peter swiped into his ‘calls’ app.
There it was. Harry’s name laced with red lettering in the ‘missed calls’ box. Peter, hands shaking, immediately dialed Harry’s number back. Peter had sworn he was sweating bullets as the phone began to ring, the once dreadful ring from only a minute ago, now a hopeful one.
The ringing audio repeated.
Once.
Twice.
Three.
Four times. Then it stopped.
Four times, the audio played over and over before the screen flushed black again, a voicemail beginning to play. A voicemail recorded years ago, the younger version of a familiar voice.
Peter’s mind was racing. Did Harry actually call him, or was this all a mix-up? Was he going crazy? Had Norman been going through Harry’s phone–maybe he had accidentally dialed Peter without realizing? How many hours of sleep had he gotten last night? Has he eaten yet today? Water? Was Miles out fighting crime, completely oblivious right now?
Oh shit–I haven’t checked on Miles in a while-
He had just begun thinking before his phone lit up again, this time a call from Mary Jane. Peter answered reluctantly, hands still shaking. He raised his phone up to his ear, placing it just high enough to hear MJ perfectly.
“Peter!” Her soft, soothing voice filled the speakers.
Pete responded with a slight “Hm?”, signifying he was listening.
“It’s…Harry. He’s awake. He’s alive, Pete.” It was only now Peter had noticed the weight of the emotion in MJ’s tone. She sounded as if she was about to cry, her voice hesitant to crack. Peter could imagine her speaking on the other line, phone in hand, her innocent red hair falling perfectly into place. He could also imagine her standing next to Harry, them looking at each other anticipatingly, Harry urging her to put the phone on speaker. Then his imagination shifted fully to Harry. His ginger hair that never seemed to have a bad day, his toasty brown eyes shifting to look at MJ on the phone, his perfectly polished and tailored tan shoes that had been waiting for him during his coma sitting upon his feet. Peter seemed to memorize every little detail about Harry. Even when Harry couldn’t even open his eyes. Pete mustered up enough courage and sanity to sputter out only two words, distanced and breaking as his voice cracked under the weight of his emotions.
“He’s…alive?”