Surprise

I had the same dream over and over. Each time the dream seemed to end, it would just bring me right back to the beginning, forcing me to relive the terror again.

Doc Ock slams me against the ground, pinning me down with one arm, while the other slowly digs into my stomach. His hot breath was in my ear chanting a phrase that I can't seem to remember, before violently throwing me out the window, the glass whirling around me, poking and sticking to my skin. I begin to plummet to the ground, glass shards orbiting me. I throw my hands out to make a web to catch myself, but, fuck it’s jammed.

Oh my god. No. No, please. No no no. I reach out and fumble with my web shooter, feverishly clawing at it trying to force out a web. Is it jammed or empty? No, please. I throw my head sideways, only to see my impending doom is getting closer and closer. I’m frantic. Hot tears begin to cloud my mask, while I struggle to breathe. Oh my god, I can’t breathe. It hurts. I can’t breathe. Please I can’t die.

Aunt May will be all alone. She’ll have no one. I can't leave her too. Everyone will be so betrayed. I can't leave Harry. Please. I don't want to leave Harry. Please. Please. Please. I continue to pry at my web shooter until a web finally shoots out, and clings to the side of a building.

Thank god.

Before I could truly feel relieved, I slam into the side of a building, crushing my ribs. My breath was sucked out of me, and I slammed my head hard. All the screams died down, and now I could only hear loud ringing. I tried to shoot another web before I hit the floor, but I wasn’t as lucky as before. If you could even call that luck.

I came crashing down and land directly on a huge piece of glass. It sliced into my thigh, and thick blood gushed onto the street. I grab the glass and yank it out of my leg. I close my eyes hard, and when I open them again, I'm back in the room with Doc Ock, who slithers his way over to me. Doc Ock slams me against the ground, pinning me-

“Peter,” an angelic voice called out to me. I struggled to open my eyes “Peter,” my savior beckons again. “Are you having a nightmare?” it inquires.

I finally convinced my eyes to stay open, but everything is blurry. I rub my sleepy eyes, and when I open them again, I can finally focus. I see Harry standing over me, with a worried look on his face. He reached out and placed his hand on my cheek. I closed my eyes and snuggled into the feeling. His hand is so warm and comforting. He suddenly pulled his hand back. I shivered.
“Good you don’t have a fever,” he exclaimed. I rubbed my eyes again and pushed myself up on my elbows.

“You idiot. You're supposed to check someone’s forehead or back,” I chirped back.

The curtains have been closed, and Harry turned on the small lamp on the desk. It barely illuminates the room, giving off a faint and warm glow. I still wasn’t wearing any clothes, but Harry had covered me in blankets while I slept. The buzz from the alcohol had worn off while I slept, leaving lingering nausea in its place. Nausea and hunger pains fought in my stomach, leaving me feeling weak. I tried to flip myself over, but my body still fought the idea of moving, even more so with the added stitches.

I glanced at my thigh, Harry did a wonderful job, the stitches were clean, and even. The dull aching pain in my thigh and stomach steadily arose. Harry closed the gap between us. He placed one arm across my chest, and the other over my lower back. He swiftly flipped me over, and now I was lying on my back. He then lifted my shoulders and shoved pillows underneath me, so I could be slightly angled up. He then pulled the blankets on me, just so they covered the bandaging on my stomach.

This is insanely embarrassing. I feel so weak. I feel so uncertain and uneasy. I don’t want him to see me like this. I must look so pathetic.

“You're good at this Har, you should work in the hospital,” I smiled, trying to play around to ease the tension.

“I couldn't be a nurse," he said, while he sat back down on the chair. “You're the only person I would ever do this for." My chest feels fluttery.

“Nah," I said, feeling the need to change the subject “you're gonna be a doctor one day, so you better get used to this kind of stuff.”

“I guess," he said.

He swiveled the desk chair over to me and rested his head on my bare chest, yet he didn't face me. I've never been so relieved to be covered in a blanket. I would have died from embarrassment if he was staring at my body. He isn’t saying anything… why? Did I say something wrong? Harry’s so nice he probably just feels bad for wanting to leave.

“Thank you for all your help. I’m sure your dad wants you home, so don’t feel bad about leaving."

His curly auburn tickled my neck. I gently bought my hands up and smoothed his hair down. He’s got some tight curls, I twirled each ringlet in my fingers.

“I didn’t come over to antagonize you,” he meekly spoke.

“I don’t know what you're doing, if you’re in a gang, doing drugs, or suicidal.” He took a deep breath.“But I can’t stand the thought of losing you. You're my best friend,” he took a long pause. My stomach dropped.“Please stay here with me,” his voice cut through the air.

“I swear I’m okay. I'm not in a gang, and I'm not on drugs. I'm not suicidal either,” I began. “I swear I'll never leave you. I can't imagine losing you either, Harry."

I’m lying through my teeth. I can't watch Harry get hurt from my actions anymore. He didn't respond to me. I don't blame him, I keep shutting him down. I can't give him any real answers, and lying too much makes my stomach hurt. It's easier to avoid his questions, it's easier to act clueless.

His breathing synchronized with mine. His hair brushed along my skin. My hands still fidget with his wavy locks. I don't mind staying like this, though his silence is worrying me. Almost like he could sense my uneasiness, Harry sat up, his hair slipping from my fingers. His warmth was gone, and a cold wind took his place.

“You should get in the shower," he said, while looking away.