He’d never known Gwen Stacy.
Even when he was young, the only thing that had mattered was pleasing his father. To live up to the Osborn name. The only people that had even remotely came into his life was a skimpy Peter and his aunt, and that was it. He’d convinced himself he didn’t need anyone else. And he prided himself on that truth.
After all, l o v e only r u i n e d people.
He’d seen enough from his father. It wasn’t a wonderful thing— his father suffered because his mother was gone. The only people that he’d ever need was Peter and his Aunt May. They were closer to family than anyone had ever been.
Gwen Stacy? They hadn’t even met.
He’d been sent to boarding school after, and even then he hadn’t known who this supposed soulmate of his was. Never on the news, not on television— Perhaps on the other side of the world, doing who-knows-what. Harry didn’t want to know.
Harry didn’t want to care.
But then he came back, and Peter had to go ruin everything. Had to go off telling him that Gwen Stacy worked at Oscorp, under him, under his father all this while. And Harry had felt unreasonably betrayed. So his soulmate had been in New York all along? He should have expected that. His life was always messed up that way, it seemed. He really should have gotten with the flow long ago.
Had his father known beforehand?
It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t have mattered. But Harry still found himself checking up on the girl. What she did at Oscorp. What her relationship with Peter really was. Complicated. He didn’t do complicated. His skin tingled every time her name was mentioned and he didn’t know if it was just an effect of the soulmate thing everyone was born with.
They meet on the lift of Oscorp of all places. Of course, he’d known about her, had known that this had to come sooner or later. But had she known about him? He wonders this as he calls her name for the first time. Gwen Stacy. It leaves a funny taste on his tongue and a startle in her veins. Harry didn’t mean to do that. He apologises, and feels oddly nervous. Wrong word. He feels put off.
The skin on his wrist burns. He doesn’t resent her. The moment his eyes meet hers Harry finds that no, he doesn’t resent her at all. He finds it melodramatic that she appears when he’s about to die, that after convincing himself of her non-existence, he cannot even find a reason to dislike her. Because she’s innocent. (Because she doesn’t deserve to be hated for no reason.)
He breaks the tension with a smile and his hand automatically flies to his chest, almost awkward as he introduces himself. “I’m Harry Osborn,” he says. Well, but obviously. He was all over the news. She worked for him. How could she not know who he was?
But no. He can’t tell her. They’d only just met - Harry couldn’t say that he was almost a goner. The burn worsens and he presses his wrist against his side, tight. What he feels is almost fond. She has eyes that remind him of crystals. Bright, sparkling, giving hope. A treasure.
Harry thinks he could like her.
He feels sorry as they part. He is a curse; a burden to Gwen and a soulmate that couldn’t give. He doesn’t know how their strings had become tied to each other, but he does feel lucky. She seemed a sweet girl - Probably was. Bursting with potential. Smart, obviously. Funny, probably. But he is poison. And it has already seeped into her life because she is bound to him. Soul bound.
Too bad he’s already dying.
Harry cannot help but wonder if one gets another soulmate when their’s die.