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1.
Peter is hovering over Harry.
Peter stands mere inches from Harry as he slowly walks across his room. His right hand is lightly pressed against Harry’s lower back, while his left hand rests on Harry’s arm. He’s a solid weight for Harry to lean on. Every time Harry begins to feel wobbly, Peter is there to right him.
“You’re doing good, Harry,” Peter whispers every once in a while. “You’re doing good.”
Harry is using his cane today; he’s finally graduated from using a walker. Harry’s grateful for the change. Using the walker wasn’t very comfortable for his lower back, and he felt like he was moving way too slowly. And Harry is ashamed to admit it, but he also felt a little old while using the walker. He knows that’s a childish thought, but, in his defense, the only people he’s ever seen use walkers are old people. All ages of people use canes and walking sticks for a variety of reasons.
But, in all honesty, Harry knows being able to get up and walk at all is a miracle, so he thinks that he shouldn’t complain about whatever mobility aid he has to use. He’s grateful for his progress, even if it means he has to be uncomfortable for a while.
Harry is starting to feel the same about Peter.
Peter is not making Harry uncomfortable, per se. He’s just so distracting. Peter’s hands are resting over Harry’s clothing, but they still feel like flames to his skin. His words are encouraging, but his voice sends tremors through Harry’s spine. Peter’s closeness makes Harry feel steady, but it also means that Harry is staring directly into Peter’s eyes whenever he turns his head. And staring into Peter’s eyes makes Harry feel like he’s going to fall over for an entirely different reason.
It’s overwhelming, Peter being here. But Harry knows he won’t be able to make Peter leave any time soon, nor would he want to.
“I’m tired,” Harry says on a sigh. “Can we sit for a while?”
Peter’s eyes go wide and he nods. “Of course!”
Peter leads Harry back to his bed. Harry has to exert very little effort; Peter nearly lifts him off his feet altogether. Harry chuckles quietly at that.
Peter gently deposits Harry back onto his bed and carefully places his cane near the headboard. He slips Harry’s shoes off before Harry can think of asking Peter for help with it.
“You need anything?” Peter asks.
Harry latches onto the look in Peter’s eyes. There’s no pity in them, just care. The way Peter looks at Harry makes him feel warm all over, even down to the soles of his feet. The proverbial butterflies are having a party in the middle of Harry’s stomach; the longer Peter looks at Harry, the harder their wings flutter.
Harry shakes his head. There are many things he wants— needs —from Peter, but he can’t say any of them aloud.
“No,” Harry says. “I’m good. Thanks, Pete.”
2.
“Where were we on Dr. Foster’s proposal?”
Harry picks up the manilla folder labeled Foster and thumbs through several pages.
“We were . . . oh! We were on page seven.”
Peter wrinkles his nose. “Really? I thought we were only on page four.”
Peter’s been visiting Harry every day, staying for hours at a time, and they’ve managed to make headway on three projects. They’ve finished more schematics, proposals, and grant applications in Harry’s bedroom than Harry would’ve thought possible. Harry once jokingly told Peter that his bed was a more productive space than his office at the Emily-May Foundation was, and he was very proud of the fact that neither of them made a sex joke.
Peter scribbles a note in the margins of his notebook. His chicken scratch is as illegible as ever. Harry watches the way Peter’s hand moves against the page and he remembers the way Peter’s hand felt when it was splayed out on Harry’s chest right before the end. He looks at Peter’s hand and remembers the broken sound of Peter’s voice, crumbling over the words I love you.
He’d wanted to say it back. Harry had tried to say it back but the strength to do so was long gone. Somewhere, in the far corner of Harry’s mind, a voice tells Harry that he can say it now.
“We might have to spring for some more of those microscopic cameras, but we should be good,” Peter says. “Right?”
Harry nods silently. It’s taking a few moments for Harry’s mind to catch up with the present conversation.
“Yeah,” Harry finally says. “Everything else looks like it’s in order, so we should be good to go with Dr. Foster.”
Peter gives Harry a crooked smile. It tugs at the invisible strings around Harry’s heart.
“You know what?” Peter says. “I really missed doing this with you.”
Harry scoffs. He tries to ignore the way his heart lurches at Peter’s words.
“What’d you miss? Working?”
Peter chuckles, but he nods. “Working with you. ” He ducks his head and needlessly stacks the papers in front of them. “I, um, didn’t think I ever would again,” he adds quietly.
Harry watches the curve of Peter’s neck and the slump of his shoulders. It’s funny; Harry is the one who nearly died in the ruins of the foundation. Actually, Harry did die that night, and were it not for Miles he’d be six feet in the ground right now. Most people would probably understand if Harry were to wear that trauma on his shoulders and become distant and sullen. Harry could throw himself at least one pity party without much complaint from anyone.
But as Harry looks at Peter, he doesn’t pity himself. He doesn’t think about how upset he should be at what happened to him. Harry just thinks about how awful it all must have been for Peter.
Harry nudges Peter’s arm. The spot where his skin touches Peter’s skin feels hot.
“Well, you are,” Harry says, “and if I have my way, you’re gonna be working with me forever.”
Peter gives Harry a blinding smile.
“That’s fine by me.”
3.
MJ has been coming around more lately.
Harry knows she had joined Peter on most of his visits before Harry woke up. According to the whispers of the more gossip-prone attendants, MJ came to see Harry almost every day. But Peter has mostly been visiting Harry alone since Harry woke up. When Harry asked Peter about it a little while ago, he laughed and waved it off.
“She just wants to give us some ‘bromance time’,” Peter had said.
Harry would’ve believed Peter if he hadn’t sounded so nervous when he laughed.
When MJ does visit Harry, she always seems happy to see him. MJ sits with him for hours with no sign of boredom. She laughs at Harry’s terrible jokes and tells a few of her own. MJ reminds Harry why she’s one of his best friends every time she visits. Having MJ around is incredible.
Most days it is.
There are other days when MJ sits down on the other side of Peter and Harry’s heart twists painfully. There are days when she puts her chin on Peter’s shoulder, and Harry feels like he’ll die an even more excruciating death. Harry watches the way Peter smiles at MJ and feels the same way he did when he was 15 falling hard for his best friend even while his best friend fell for someone else.
Harry feels pathetic about it. Maybe he shouldn’t, but he can’t help it.
Today, MJ walks into Harry’s room with a bright smile and a plastic bag full of snacks.
“Hey!” MJ says happily. “I brought your favorite chips!”
And she plops down on the couch, tosses Harry his designated snacks, and launches into a story about the rabbit hole she went down while researching a podcast episode. Harry and Peter sit on Harry’s bed, laughing and gasping at each weird twist in MJ’s story. It’s nice.
Toward the end of their visit, Peter drops his hand on Harry’s knee. It’s not a light touch; his hand is solid, warm, and firm on Harry. Peter’s thumb traces a circle on the side of Harry’s knee, and the feathery touch makes Harry feel like he’s going to jump out of his skin.
Peter doesn’t even seem to notice. He touches Harry like it’s the most natural move in the world.
But MJ notices.
She doesn’t say anything, but Harry can see her just fine. She glances down at Peter’s hand, and her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. The expression only lasts a second. MJ doesn’t look upset or angry, and she doesn’t stop talking. Harry thinks most people wouldn’t even notice.
Harry notices it. His mind won’t let it go.
4.
Peter’s asleep on the couch.
It’s late, a little past midnight. Peter has been with Harry for hours. Harry should’ve sent Peter home a long time ago. But Harry didn’t even notice how much time had passed.
Harry watches Peter sleep. He’s stretched out on the couch, one arm draped over his eyes while the other dangles onto the floor. He’s a bit too tall for the couch, so his feet dangle over the arm. Peter looks calm when he sleeps, which is a somewhat recent development. Anxiety always chases Peter, running after him even in his slumber. Harry remembers waking Peter from nightmares or seeing a pinched, worried expression on Peter’s face in the middle of the night. It’s good to see him so tranquil tonight.
Harry wonders if it’s creepy to watch Peter sleep. But, to be fair, Peter spent months at Harry’s bedside, doing little else besides staring at Harry. So, they’re even.
As Harry watches Peter sleep, a thought occurs to him: Harry never believed that comatose people could hear while they were in a coma.
He used to scoff when he would see those scenes in movies or terrible dramas. It just seemed so unrealistic. Someone who has been “asleep” for four years isn’t going to wake up and respond to whatever sappy monologue the love of their life just performed. Harry always thought it was a ridiculous concept.
And then he fell into a coma.
As it turns out, Harry was only half-right. Because Harry knows that he could hear Peter talking to him while he was under. Harry might not be able to remember each word Peter said, but he knows that he heard Peter’s voice for months. He remembers the varying tones, the rise and fall of Peter’s voice, the whispers, the laughs and sobs, and everything in between. Harry couldn’t repeat everything Peter said the day Harry woke up, but Harry knew he heard Peter call him someone he loved. That alone was enough to pull Harry through the last of the fog.
It was hazy and distant, but it was Peter. It doesn’t matter how sedated Harry is or how much that damn symbiote ravaged his mind. Harry will always recognize Peter.
Peter wakes up with a yawn. He sits up with his eyes still closed and stretches. He groans loudly, and Harry’s embarrassed by the way that sound makes him feel.
Peter finally opens his eyes and looks at Harry with a tired smile.
“Morning, sweetheart,” Peter says.
Harry rolls his eyes and laughs, but his heart skips a beat.
“Morning, Peter.”
5.
“One more lap,” Miles says. “You’re almost done.”
Harry’s on lap five around his room. Today is the first day he’s walked more than four laps only using his cane. He’d told Miles that six was his goal but that he’d never gotten that far with Peter.
“How’re you feeling?” Miles asks.
Harry slows to a stop and wrinkles his nose. “Sweaty and gross.”
Miles chuckles. “I meant physically. Are you in any pain?”
Harry shakes his head. “No. Just a little tired.”
“Can you keep going?” Miles asks. “Or do you need to stop?”
Peter wouldn’t ask that question, Harry thinks. He would just scoop Harry up and put him back in bed.
Harry takes a breath and starts walking again. “I’m good to go.”
Exercising is different with Miles. He doesn’t plaster himself to Harry’s side like Peter, shadowing Harry’s every move. He doesn’t placate Harry or dote on him, and he doesn’t swoop in to make Harry rest. Miles always checks on Harry, but he urges Harry forward. He lets Harry walk alone, but he’s never too far behind. He acts more like a physical therapist than Peter ever has.
Harry successfully completes his sixth lap. Miles grins from ear to ear as he guides Harry back to his bed.
“Look at you!” Miles chirps. “Soon, you’ll be sprinting around this place.”
Harry scoffs as he sits down. “Will that happen before or after the pigs start flying?”
Miles sits down next to Harry on his bed.
“You know, you really shouldn’t say that,” Miles says, “because much stranger things have happened around here.”
Harry cringes. He can’t argue with that; he was one of the “stranger things” not so long ago.
“Yeah, I take that back. Thanks for the vote of confidence. And for coming over, to begin with.”
Miles smiles and rolls his eyes. “Why do you keep thanking me for coming over? I like coming to see you, Harry.”
Harry nods and laughs lightly. Miles comes by more often than not, but he and Harry are hardly ever alone together. Usually, Miles comes when Peter is hanging out with Harry, but that might be attributed to the innumerable hours Peter spends in Harry’s room.
It’s still a little weird, being friends with Miles. Miles has been incredibly nice to Harry, but until now, Harry hadn’t exactly cherished Miles’ olive branches. He was too busy being jealous of Miles. Miles and Peter were close and shared something Harry could hardly grasp. Even at the height of his experience with the symbiote, he still wasn’t half the hero Miles or Peter were. The thought of Miles and Peter’s friendship left a bitter taste in Harry’s mouth. It never went away, no matter how hard Harry tried to force it out.
Harry would like to blame the symbiote for that, but he knows better. The symbiote just amplified the jealousy that was already there.
Miles nudges Harry’s shoulder. “I can hear you thinking, you know. What’s going on?”
Harry bites the inside of his jaw. He ducks his head, looking down at his scuffed shoes. His father would throw a fit if he saw him wearing these.
“I was thinking about the symbiote. About how it . . . messed with my head,” Harry says. “I know I probably shouldn’t think about it, but I can’t help it sometimes.”
Miles’ eyes soften. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Harry looks at Miles. What is he supposed to say? The symbiote kind of made me hate you because Peter likes you so much. But that’s only because I was already mad that Peter likes you so much. Is there a way to explain that without sounding childish and possessive? Or, at the very least, without sounding like his whole world revolves around Peter?
Suddenly, Miles whips around to face the door. His head snaps so quickly it makes Harry flinch. A few moments later, Harry realizes what Miles was looking at; Peter’s walking through the doorway.
Speak of the devil.
“Hey, Pete!” Harry says. His voice cracks at Peter’s name, and it takes all of his power not to cringe.
Peter smiles, but his eyes bounce from Harry and Miles, and it takes him a second to say hello. If Harry didn’t know any better, he’d say he sees a flash of concern in Peter’s eyes.
“I’m not interrupting, am I?” Peter asks.
Miles shakes his head and stands up.
“Nah, I was just getting on Harry’s nerves before heading out,” Miles says, winking at Harry. “I’ll see you later, man.”
“See ya,” Harry says, and he watches Miles and Peter do some silly handshake before Miles walks out the door.
When Miles is gone, Peter takes his spot on Harry’s bed. He sits closer to Harry, though, his arm brushing against Harry’s.
“I wasn’t interrupting anything important, was I?” Peter asks.
Harry blinks at Peter. Peter’s not asking him about physical therapy, that much is clear. Harry’s not exactly sure what Peter’s asking him or how he should answer. He’s not even sure how he feels about the question.
Harry smiles at Peter and shrugs.
“No. Not really.”
6.
Harry and Peter sneak outside.
Norman hasn’t been keen on letting Harry go out. He always has an excuse for why Harry has to stay inside: the treatment, the risk of environmental exposure, and the crowds of New York are all reasons Norman has thrown at Harry. He thinks it’s a control thing. Most things are about control for Norman.
Frankly, Harry’s sick of it.
So, early one warm afternoon, Harry convinces Peter to sneak him out onto one of the upper-floor balconies. They strategically make their exit between the nurses’ and attendants’ shift changes. Peter presses Harry tightly to him as they scurry through the floors, quietly checking on Harry with every move they make.
They reach the balcony just after noon and sit in the middle of the sunlight. Harry’s skin feels warm and he breathes easier. He feels better now than he has in a long time.
Peter sits close to him, with their legs and arms pressed together.
“How ya feeling?” Peter asks with contentment in his voice.
Harry lets himself look at Peter. Peter’s smile is easy, and his eyes glisten as he watches Harry. The sunlight touches the side of Peter’s face, and Harry knows it’s corny, but he swears the light is falling on Peter just to show Harry how beautiful Peter is.
Harry could sit here with Peter every day for the rest of his life, no matter how long or short that might be.
Harry clears his throat. His voice is suddenly hiding from him.
“I’m good, Pete. I’m good.”
7.
Harry is half asleep when he hears MJ and Peter talking.
They’re sitting close to his bed, whispering. Harry has no idea how long they’ve been there; he doesn’t even remember falling asleep. He doesn’t know what they’ve been talking about up until this point. But he hears the next words that come out of MJ’s mouth.
“We have to talk to him, Peter. We can’t leave him in the dark forever. ”
Her words chase the last bit of sleep away, but Harry doesn’t open his eyes or turn his head. He lies as still as possible, hoping his body doesn’t decide to betray him.
Harry shouldn’t be eavesdropping like this, but, in his defense, they are talking about him. Maybe this is meant to prepare him for whatever they’ve got to say, especially since it doesn’t sound like something Harry will like.
Peter sighs. Harry pictures the frown on Peter’s face and the faint lines surrounding Peter’s lips.
“I know,” Peter says. “I just don’t know what to say to him.”
“You’ll say how you feel,” MJ argues softly. “And let Harry take it from there.”
Peter doesn’t say anything for a while. He just sighs heavily. Harry has to fight to keep up the façade of being asleep.
When Peter finally speaks again, Harry has to strain to hear him.
“I don’t think I can do that.”
“I know you don’t,” MJ says. Her voice is kind but firm. “But you’re going to have to.”
They’re quiet after that, and they don’t stay long. Peter murmurs goodbye as they walk out of the door, and Harry almost sits up straight and asks them to say.
Harry doesn’t open his eyes until they’ve left. He stares at the ceiling until the pattern makes his eyes sting.
The thing is, Harry knows that they could be talking about anything. They could be talking about a new job opportunity for Peter, MJ, or both of them. Maybe they’ve decided to move out of New York and start fresh. They could have decided to get married, or MJ could have been pregnant. There are so many possibilities.
But Harry knows he’s what they need to talk about.
They’ve noticed. There’s no way they haven’t noticed at this point. They’ve seen the way Harry’s eyes follow Peter around a room. They’ve watched Harry fumble his words when Peter smiles at him. Peter has felt the way Harry’s body tenses when Peter touches him.
They know how Harry feels about Peter. Of course, they do.
MJ needs Peter to let Harry down gently, and it’s just like Peter to struggle to do it. Peter has always tried to protect Harry, even at his own risk. He’s put his life on the line for Harry. The last thing Peter wants to do is hurt Harry’s feelings. And Harry knows that MJ is one of his best friends, and she is in no rush to break his heart, but she can’t sit around and let someone be in love with her boyfriend.
Peter and MJ are going to be together for the rest of their lives. They can’t let Harry sit in the middle of their relationship.
Harry tosses his arm over his eyes to give them a break. He’s tired of thinking about this. He wishes he could go back to sleep.
It’s an odd thing to wish for, all things considered. But it’s all Harry wants right now.
8.
Peter arrives at Harry’s room with cleaning supplies one morning.
“I know why you’ve been down in the dumps,” Peter announces. “We haven’t done spring cleaning!”
Harry rolls his eyes but laughs loudly. His room is a bit of a mess. Norman’s been more focused on testing and medical treatment than he has on tidiness and interior decorating.
“Sure, Pete,” Harry says. “That’s why.”
Peter wags a finger at Harry, looking every bit of a stereotypical nagging mother.
“Don’t be sarcastic with me, Mister,” Peter says. “Constant sarcasm is my job. Besides, MJ has taught me that a messy space can lead to bad vibes. And we need your vibes to be better!”
Harry blinks at Peter. Peter’s not wrong about Harry’s mood. He has been lower than usual this past week or so. That’s one thing his father has noticed. The other day, Norman asked Harry if he was okay and urgently whispered Harry’s answer to Dr. Connors later that night when he thought Harry was asleep again.
Of course, Harry knows the state of his room has little to do with how he’s been feeling. Harry’s need to eavesdrop has done this to him.
He can’t exactly tell Peter that, though.
Petr puts the cleaning stuff down near Harry’s bedside and gets to work. Harry stands up from the bed, ready to help, but Peter gently pushes him back down.
“You sit right there and let me take care of it,” Peter orders.
There’s something in Peter’s words that makes Harry shiver but he can’t place it.
“You know I gotta do something for myself sometimes,” Harry says.
“I know,” Peter says, “but today you’re going to let me do this for you.”
Peter leaves no room for an argument. He turns around and goes right back to cleaning.
Harry watches Peter move around the room, armed with rags, cleaner, a broom, and a dustpan. Harry thinks about how messy Peter’s bedroom always was when they were kids. Aunt May had to threaten Peter’s life and limb to get him to clean his room regularly. As far as Harry can tell, Peter’s not much neater now; MJ is always making jokes about his mask being left in random places around the house.
But here he is, eagerly breezing around the room to make the place spotless. And he’s doing it at the request of no one at all.
At one point, at the end of his cleaning spree, Peter starts twirling the broom around as if it weighs nothing at all. He hums tunelessly as he plays with the broom. Harry can’t tell if Peter’s making an attempt at a show tune or if he’s trying to emulate Darth Vader’s theme song.
It gets a laugh out of Harry. Peter looks at Harry with raised eyebrows and a wide smile.
“Are you laughing at me?” Peter asks.
Harry nods as he laughs again. Peter crosses the room in two long steps and stands directly in front of Harry. They’re close now; Harry can feel the slightest brush of Peter’s knee against his.
Peter points the broom handle at Harry like it’s a microphone.
“If I’m so bad, why don’t you show me how it’s done,” Peter says. “Use that glee club experience.”
“No, thank you,” Harry says cheerfully.
Peter doesn’t budge, though. “Come on ,” he says. “Don’t be shy.”
“ Go away, ” Harry sings softly. He jazzes it up, stretching “away” out with a long run.
Peter smiles so widely that his eyes all but disappear.
“Show off.”
“You asked me to do it!” Harry says. “This is your fault.”
Peter’s smile begins to fade, shrinking on his face. But his eyes are as bright as they’ve ever been.
“Yeah, it is,” Peter says distantly.
Harry watches the slow changes in Peter’s face. Peter lays the broom against the head of Harry’s bed, but his eyes never leave Harry. Harry is suddenly nervous beyond belief. His heart skips a beat, and he knows that Peter can hear it if he listens closely enough.
“Peter?” Harry asks slowly. “What’s going on?”
Peter doesn’t answer. He just stands there, so close, watching Harry.
Then, he surges forward and kisses Harry on the lips.
It’s not a dainty peck. Peter captures Harry’s lips between his, and Harry’s eyes fall shut as he leans into Peter’s kiss. Peter’s kiss is gentle but firm and real. He kisses Harry like he means every second of it.
And Harry, reeling, kisses him right back, pouring every ounce of feeling into it.
Harry feels himself close to falling off the bed, but Peter puts a steadying hand on Harry’s waist. Another hand cups Harry’s cheek. His hand is blazing hot against Harry’s chilled skin, and Harry wants to feel Peter’s warmth every day for the rest of his life.
Suddenly, Peter breaks the kiss. He steps away from Harry’s with wide eyes.
“Your dad is coming,” Peter says.
Sure enough, there’s a knock on the door mere seconds later. Norman pushes the door open and steps inside.
“Harry?” Norman asks. “I wanted to check in on you.”
Norman’s eyes light up when he notices Peter. Harry hopes his father doesn’t see the frazzled look in either of their eyes.
“Hello, Peter,” Norman says. “How are you?”
Peter smiles, calm and professional. Harry can tell that he’s making an effort not to look at Harry.
“I’m doing well,” Peter says. Then, quickly: “I was just heading out.”
Peter exchanges departing pleasantries with Norman and tosses Harry a “See you later!” He’s gone within seconds.
Norman starts talking to Harry, commenting on how clean Harry’s room is and how much brighter it seems.
Harry doesn’t hear a word.
9.
Harry hasn’t seen Peter or MJ in more than a week.
It’s the longest stretch they’ve gone without visiting him since he fell into a coma. Everyone around Harry notices; even Norman asks about Peter one day. Harry makes an excuse on Peter’s behalf, something about work and the foundation.
He can’t tell Norman the truth. He can’t tell Norman about the kiss or how it plays on a loop in Harry’s mind. Harry can’t tell Norman about the pain that shoots through his heart when he remembers the look in Peter’s eyes. He can’t tell Norman that he's having nightmares about what MJ will say when she finally confronts Harry about what happened.
Harry can’t tell Norman that he’s caught between desperately wanting Peter to come back and never wanting to see him again for the rest of his life.
Harry’s on his own for the first few days. He works with his physical therapist and answers Dr. Connor’s incessant questions about his condition. He reviews proposals for the Emily-May Foundation and resists the urge to pick up his phone and call Peter. Harry tries to convince himself that he can have a life outside of Peter even if he has no idea what that looks like.
Miles interrupts Harry’s solitude after a while. He visits Harry for four days straight, staying longer each day. He keeps Harry busy as if he knows that Harry needs to be kept busy.
On the fourth day, just before he leaves, Miles fixes Harry with an interrogating look.
“Okay,” Miles says, “are we going to talk about what’s really going on with you?”
Harry bites his tongue. There’s a part of him, small but growing, that wants to spill his guts to Miles. He wants to tell Miles everything , including things that he’s barely told himself. It feels like Miles knows everything already, so why not vent to him and get it off Harry’s chest?
But Harry can’t. He can’t say a single word.
“I wish I could,” he says quietly.
Miles looks at him but doesn't push. Harry's already told him everything he needs to know.
“Okay,” Miles says softly. “If you change your mind, you can call me whenever.”
Sadness settles into Harry’s chest as he watches Miles leave. He’s alone again. It feels like he’s alone for good this time.
10.
MJ barges into Harry’s room and brings a loud thunderstorm with her.
It’s almost a little comical: the image of MJ standing in his doorway with flashes of lightning pouring in through the windows to bounce off her skin. The wind howls and thunder crackles across the skin, but none of that captures Harry’s attention quite like the look in MJ’s eyes. It feels like a moment out of a terribly cliche horror film, one where the protagonists are too stupid to live but live anyway.
Harry stares at MJ. Words, something that Harry has historically been iffy with, flee him entirely.
“Hey, Harry,” MJ says softly. “We need to talk.”
Harry stares at her, curiously unable to even blink. He wants to play dumb but fears that would only make her more upset with him.
But, funny enough, MJ doesn’t look upset at Harry. She’s actually smiling at Harry. It’s a sympathetic smile, but a smile nonetheless.
“Did Peter tell you what happened?” Harry asks hesitantly.
MJ nods. “He did. He told me as soon as I walked through the door.”
“Oh,” Harry says. His throat is tightening. “Oh, okay.”
Harry looks down at the comforter on his bed. He’s waiting for MJ to stop smiling and start screaming at him.
MJ walks over to Harry and sits down on the edge of his bed. Harry nervously looks up at her. He doesn’t think she’ll slap him, but he can’t be certain.
MJ reaches over and puts a hand on Harry’s knee.
“I’m not mad at you guys for the kiss,” MJ says. “I was actually happy about it.”
Harry stares at MJ for what feels like a very long time. Technically speaking, he heard what she said, but he’s not sure he heard what she just said.
“What?” Harry asks rather dumbly.
MJ giggles. It makes Harry’s ears ring.
“I’ve been begging Peter to talk to you about how he feels, but he’s been too much of a scaredy cat,” MJ says. “This past week has been pretty rough.”
He shakes his head as if the movement will help make sense of MJ’s words. MJ watches him patiently.
“I’m sorry, um,” Harry stammers. “Can you, uh, go back to the ‘how he feels’ part?” he asks.
“I didn’t think that I should be the one to tell you this, because Peter is the one who has had to deal with it,” she says. “But I can’t stand to watch him be miserable for another second.”
“And why is Peter miserable?” Harry asks cautiously.
MJ’s smile widens. “Because he loves you—as in, he’s in love with you —but he’s been too much of a wimp to say anything.”
Harry shuts his eyes tightly and shakes his head again. Now he’s certain that he’s misheard MJ. There is no way she just told Harry that Peter is in love with him.
“You didn’t just say that,” Harry says, to her and himself. “You did not just say that.”
“I did,” MJ confirms. “Peter’s in love with you, Harry. And I suspect you feel the same way about him.”
Harry’s mind is flooded. He wants to panic because MJ figured him out. He wants to laugh and then cry because he thinks MJ is telling a mean joke.
Harry wants to cheer because Peter might love him, too.
“But—I don’t,” Harry sputters. “Peter’s, you and him—I mean.”
A thousand words are competing for the chance to come out of Harry’s mouth. He’s not able to sort any of them out for himself.
MJ is, though.
“Peter and I are fine,” MJ says. “I know he loves me, too. We’re not ending our relationship because of you. We’re hoping to expand it to include you if that’s what you want.”
Slowly but surely, MJ’s words finally begin to click in Harry’s mind.
A picture emerges through the haze of fear and astonishment that’s fallen over Harry’s mind: he sees the three of them, close, happy, and easy with each other, much in the same way they’ve always been. For as impossible of an idea as it should be, the idea of the three of them in a relationship doesn’t feel like that big of a step away from who they are.
There’s a part of Harry’s mind that’s yelling all of the logic-based reasons that this can’t work. How does it look logistically? Will it affect their housing options, if Peter and MJ even want to share a house with Harry? What will dates look like? How transparent will they be? How would they explain this to Norman or MJ’s family?
The more that part of Harry’s mind speaks the more fear Harry notices. Even the most rational questions are underpinned by fear.
“I’m . . . having a hard time wrapping my head around this,” Harry admits.
MJ nods and squeezes Harry’s knee.
“How about I drag Peter in here later and we all talk about it? Would that be okay?”
Harry nods before the fear can stop him.
“Yeah. Yeah, it would.”
11.
“So, this isn’t a prank?”
Peter and MJ fix Harry with a look . All three of them are sitting on his bed, close enough to brush each other when they move. Somehow, Harry feels both unmoored and anchored by their presence.
“No, Harry,” MJ says kindly. “It’s not a prank.”
Harry laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I just had to check,” he says. “It’s not every day that the two people you love the most tell you that they want to be in an unconventional relationship with you. I kind of thought this might be a prank or a really good dream.”
Peter laughs. He sounds as nervous as Harry feels.
“Thankfully, you’re awake,” Peter says, “and we’re being serious. I love you, and MJ doesn’t hate me for that!”
MJ rolls her eyes affectionately.
“What Peter means is that we think we could be happy together,” MJ says. “We can figure this out.”
“If you want to!” Peter adds hastily. “Because I totally get it if this is too much for you! I mean, like I said, I’m still surprised that MJ didn’t kick me to the curb, so I get it if you’re not into it, or if you think I’m—”
Harry surprises himself by reaching over and taking Peter’s hand. He pipes down, and his shiny eyes go wide. His hand is hot in Harry’s. Peter looks hopeful and just a little bit terrified.
The scary logic is snipping at Harry’s mind again, telling him that they could change their minds at any second and that, honestly, relationships like this are ripe for drama. Everything can go wrong.
But everything has gone wrong for the three of them before and they survived. They shouldn’t have; Harry almost didn’t. But they did.
“I want to,” Harry says, his heart dancing in his chest. “I really want to.”
Peter blinks at Harry a million times. Then, he squeezes Harry’s hand and smiles.
“Okay, buddy. Okay.”