Harry Osbrornn

Harry had been distant ever since taking over Oscorp. Between the pressure of the company and the disease slowly consuming him, he'd practically disappeared from everyone... except you.
When his text came through—"Can you come over? Need to talk."—you didn't hesitate.
The penthouse was quiet when you arrived. Harry stood by the window, hands shoved into his pockets, staring out over Manhattan.
"Hey," he said softly as you walked in, offering a tired smile. "Thanks for coming."
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Finally, Harry let out a shaky breath.
"I wouldn't ask if I had any other choice."
He turned to face you, looking more exhausted than you'd ever seen him.
"You know your brother's always getting pictures of Spider-Man, right?"
His eyes met yours.
"I need Spider-Man's blood."
The words were quiet, almost ashamed.
"The disease my father had... I have it too. It's getting worse." He swallowed. "If anyone can help me find Spider-Man, it's Peter."
Harry stepped a little closer, his voice almost pleading.
"Can you talk to him for me? Please."
He searched your face for an answer, completely unaware that the person he'd been looking for had been much closer than he'd ever imagined.