𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙬𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙮 — 𝙤𝙨𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙣 𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨

☕

HARRY HAD SEEN better days. Some days, like yesterday, he was on top of the world; flying high in the wind with no end in sight. He thought there was no landing, no stopping this feeling, as he kissed Bren sweetly and as he held the other boy's hand. As they looked at the stars from the window of his dorm, there together on his bed just lying there. It was innocent and so incredibly sweet and he loved every minute of it.

          But it ended, as it always did. An amazing day for him turned into a terrible day the next. Because of course the universe had to balance itself and letting Harry feel too great – too above the world – for one day was enough and then, of course, he had to have so much pain. He couldn't just be happy, painless, and young; he had to be forever youthful with so much pain.

          Because he was always in pain, wasn't he? He was always crying out for the pain to end but it never would. He knew that, he knew that his limited days would be spent in so much pain until he couldn't walk anymore or something like that. There was no happy ending for him, it just wasn't written that way. No happy beginning, no happy end, only a joyful middle right near the end. That was the cards he was dealt.

          And no many people glorified the thought of being forever young. Looking for the fountain of youth, putting pressure to live the best life during youth because everything goes downhill with age, dying young and looking so incredibly beautiful. It was what everyone dreamed for; it was the hopes of everyone. An eternal Sleeping Beauty – only this time they were dead, no prince was coming, and they would never wake.

          Forever young.

          God, he hated it. Harry would give anything to be old and ugly, living a full life. Times would change and he wouldn't be this youthful person anymore – might not even talk with any of his friends that he had now – but at least he would have lied a long life. At least he would have more time and maybe not all of it in pain, knowing that any day could be his last. He didn't want to die young and beautiful.

          That was his dream. But like all other dreams of his, it would be inevitably crushed. Osborns didn't get happy endings; Harry especially.

          Everything inside him hurt, everything inside him ached and burned and make him want to pound his head in and just die already. He didn't want to be in pain anymore; he just wanted it to stop, but it never would. Even weed wasn't working anymore for him – none of the regular drugs were. He was in pain and the ecstasy, weed, and everything weren't working for him. He was still in pain, he still felt it, he was connected and it wasn't ending.

          And now he was staring at a bottle of painkillers – high ones, definitely stolen – and was contemplating whether or not he should take them. On one hand, it would help with the pain. Maybe he could feel numb for a while, dead to everything but yet still so alive, or maybe he would take too much or too little. He could still be in pain or he could die.

          But really, he would take his chances. Being in pain sucked ass and if this could help him, if this could stop everything burning inside him, he would die for it. He just wanted to feel numb, he just wanted to be dead already.

          Harry untwisted the cap, pouring out two tablets (that would be enough to begin with) and brought them to his mouth. Next, he took the water that was on his desk and used it to knock back the pills. He didn't care to put his pills away, Peter was gone for the night and probably wouldn't come back, and no one else was supposed to show up.

          Hissing as he stood, every step burning, he went to his bed and laid down. He stared at the ceiling, just waiting for the moment when the pain went away, hoping that it would be soon. He didn't want to feel anything – not even the good emotions he associated with Bren. He didn't want the love in his heart or the butterflies of nervousness and lovesick in his stomach. He didn't want the smiles or blushes; he wanted numbness.

          He wanted to forget all feeling, wanted it all to be distant memories to which he could never return. And after what felt like hours, his shoulders relaxed and nothing was burning and he was fine; he was as fine as he could be. Not numb but not in pain, yet still so unable to move out of fear that everything would return.

          Still, he closed his eyes, reveling in this feeling and hoping that it would stay like this forever. This was good; everything else was bad. Everything else caused pain but this was just so nice...

＆

          "Betty, please don't kill me for asking this, but are you okay?" Brendon hesitantly inquired of the sad girl before him.

          They were sitting in the library, studying for finals that were just so close, but it looked to him that Betty couldn't concentrate. Her eyes were a bit puffy and red and her cheeks looked even redder than usual and he was worried. She looked upset about something, so sad, and he didn't like it. He didn't want his friend to be sad.

          "Hm?" Betty asked, blinking as she stopped staring at the page of the textbook she was staring down at it. "Oh, yeah. I'm okay."

          Brendon frowned. She didn't sound good at all. The usual Betty Brant would glare at him for such an accusation and curse him out, making him recoil until himself and apologize for even thinking otherwise...but she wasn't doing any of that. So even though Brendon didn't tense further and invert into himself, he frowned and squinted his eyes at her.

          "Are you sure? You know that you can tell me anything, right?" Brendon asked, making sure that she knew he was always available for her. She might not want to talk then, but he would always be there.

          They weren't the closest, sure, Cindy was his best friend and Betty was always working on something – usually for her internship at the Bugle. And when she did have free time, she preferred hanging with Harry or Bren even though she had gone to school with Cindy and they had the most history. But times changed and so did best friends.

          But even though they weren't the closest of friends, they were still friends and Brendon still cared a lot for her and would always be there whenever she needed him. If she needed a shoulder to cry on, someone to give her advice (though he doubted she would take advice from him, he was a certified human disaster in the eyes of his friends), or someone to just listen to her. He would leave the human punching bag to someone with more strength than him; he would crumble after only a light hitting because he was a China plate.

          Betty sniffled. "Yeah, I know," she nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear, "It's just – I lost my internship at the Bugle."

          "What?" Brendon asked incredulously. That didn't...well, it didn't make any sense. From everything Betty had said about the establishment and her dedication to it, it seemed like she was practically their head writer and editor. For them to let go of her had to be such a mistake.

          The girl nodded before him. "The Bugle's not doing well – I mean, it never has. It's not the most beloved newspaper and they haven't had anything interesting to print on Spider-Man or Silk recently so, well, it's been going under a bit so they've been letting go interns. I-I was the last to go."

          "Betty, I'm so sorry," Brendon told her sincerely, not knowing what else to say. That was awful and he felt terrible for her, knowing just how much sweat, blood, and tears she put into that company. And now they fired her, let her go, and she was so sad. Even though she hated it there, it still hurt for her.

          "It's alright. I mean, I'm open now to apply for new internships, but no other newspaper wants to employ a part-time college student. They want full-time interns out of college and that's not me so I'm stuck," Betty complained, stifling some more.

          "Well, maybe you can get a part-time job instead? Like, not at a paper or something?" Brendon suggested, not knowing what else he was supposed to say in a situation like this, "I just – I'm not sure what you wanna hear right now."

          Betty let out a small laugh, "You're fine, Brendon. I don't know what I wanna hear anyway. I guess I just...I don't know. I might get a job over break, off campus or something, but I don't know. The Bugle was my whole life my senior year when I got the internship. I was so excited, you know, to get it and have my first real chance in media. And it was an opportunity for me to meet other people and spread my wings from Midtown. Now I don't have that anymore."

          Brendon looked at her sadly, seeing the girl wipe her eyes as she tried not to let anymore tears out. "I mean, I didn't really meet anyone there," she continued, "Everyone else my age were more interested in getting a good word from Jameson than anything else. They weren't there for friendships so it was lonelier than what I had wished for, but still. It was my thing, no one else's. I got to stand out for the first time and I was so proud of myself. And-And I could still balance it with college and didn't have to quit, which I was even more proud of myself for."

          She smiled as she laughed, all bitter and sad, and Brendon wanted nothing more than to bring her into a hug but knew that the girl would hate it since she was so firmly against physical contact.

          "Like, all my friends had their own things. Cindy has her job doing whatever it is she does, Liz was doing everything at school while she was there, and all I had before was the stupid school news with Jason Ionello who wouldn't stop flirting with me. It was terrible and I hated it, but it was all the journalism I had before the Bugle. Now I have no journalism – not until next semester, but that's all classroom and it isn't real and I hate it."

          "It'll get better," Brendon weakly attempted, "I mean, you'll have another chance and, hey, you can start a blog until then – or a podcast – and it can be about whatever you want."

          Betty smiled at him, a small smile that was definitely much more defeated than her regular one. "Thanks. That's...strangely motivating. I just might do that."

          Brendon just gave her a smile in response, but that seemed to be enough for her as she sniffled before saying, "Now come on. Biology isn't going to study itself."

          "God, I wish it did."