Sanity // Harry Osborn fanfiction

EPILOGUE

It's been so long since he held her. His fingers have long lost the warmth they had back then.

The sheets are neatly kept, cold air clinging to it as if it's screaming for human warmth. He chuckles to himself, for that he too longs for that ray of sun to be back by his side.

He's not too lonely now of course, two dogs and a wife that he married for the sake of the company to help him with his crippling pain that the family-brought disease puts on him.

She's a nice woman, married off to a not so nice man at first and then later on to him. Her smile is kind, but warm it is not since that has been taken by her first husband.

He sits by the window, the cold air of New York seeping in through the glass.

Fingers trailing along the freezing transparency, he huffs a heavy breath.

"Harry is everything alright?" The kind woman calls out from the next room, "do you need your pain killers?"

" 'ight" he says as loud as he could, which wasn't very loud at all, in fact barely audible.

They've lived like this for the past 18 or so years, lives narrowly going around each other so that they don't look too distant but never actually revolving around each other. They've lived for the days at the company and nights of deep thoughts and half assed slumbers. He's lived like this.

Sometimes Harry thinks about the 'if's and 'how about's. 

What would he be like if Elli was still here? What if neither of them has strange and unwanted powers? How many windows would their house in the country side of France has? A lot of things that weighs him down.

"Felicia, is lunch ready?" He spoke with a careful manner.

The quiet hum tells him it's ready but she's just taking her time decorating as always. He likes the space and quietness she gives him, it reminds them everyday that they are nothing to the other but a puppet to the politics' eyes.

They've both been in love, but while she has fallen out with a hard thump, he still hangs on by the imaginary hair of it.

"But maybe it's not imaginary," he says, mostly to himself, "Not for longer"

__________________

"Patient name?" says a feminine voice unfazed.

"Harold Osborn"

"Time of death?"

"3:19 AM, March 21st, 2035"

"Any family or relative waiting to grieve?"

The intern thinks hard before answering, "There is his spouse, but she doesn't seem like she'll shed sorrow over this"

They look back to the middle of the room where a bed carries a tired pale old man that looks more at peace dead than he was alive.

A/N: HI ITS BEEN 98340198 YEARS SINCE I'VE WRITTEN ANYTHING. I think my style developed a lot so I wanted to give this an epilogue and then finally let go of the story .

I switched my interest again (damn emily, indecisive much)

I'm into K-pop and K-hip hop now so if any of you want to hmu and talk to me then send me an ask @ otlwoozi.tumblr.com

THIS IS PROBABLY THE LAST YOU SEE OF ME ON WATTPAD (unless I actually get back into writing but that too will be mostly kpop ships) GOOD BYE AND THANK YOU FOR SUPPORTING ME ON THIS JOURNEY OF DISCOVERING MY INTERESTS AND WRITING SKILLS AS WELL AS HARRY OSBORN'S ONCE AGAIN UNFORTUNATE LIFE.

Roses and love, Hannah 

p/s: my name is actually hannah, emily was a pen name of some sort since i thought it was cool and hip to do so but yes my name is hannah bye!!!