Ephemeral (Harry Osborn)

Chapter 1

Picture of who I imagine as Sage to the side, as well as a fantastic song. 

~Sage's POV~

It was an unusually sunny day for a funeral. It was the perfect day to take pictures.

The sky was as blue as ever, the grass was a deep emerald, puffy white clouds floated above ahead and even the birds sang a cheerful tune.

But as I had learned from the orphanage director, it was disrespectful to be in a good mood while someone was being buried.

I let out an inaudible sigh as the deceased's loved ones began to throw personal items into the grave.

Most of them were business men; I could tell by the crispness of their sleeves, the silkiness of their ties and the lack of hair on their heads.

One of them, however, was not. 

He was young and handsome.

His brown hair was slicked to the side, showcasing his round, tinted sunglasses.

The clothes he wore were professional, but they were wrinkled and disheveled; proving his youthfulness.

After the group had tossed in their trinkets, they stepped back.

The grave diggers began refilling the hole with dirt and I heard several sniffles from the rich and haughty onlookers.

I felt no guilt as I tore my eyes away from the grave to look back at the young man again. I also felt shameless as I raised my camera and snapped a few pictures of him.

One of his pale hands reached up and removed his glasses for a moment, allowing me to view his face in full.

His features were proportionate, not necessarily model-like, but definitely attractive.

He wiped at his red-rimmed eyes and I noticed that they were a pleasant shade of blue.

I was forced to look away when someone brushed past me on their way to the front of the crowd.

Several people followed and all of them carried a red rose in their hand.

Suddenly, I felt isolated from the crowd as I looked down at the light green carnation that rested in the camera case that was strung over my shoulder.

I shook off the familiar yet unpleasant feeling as I moved to place my flower down among the others.

Gazing down at the blossoms, I indulged myself with a smile as I admired the contrast of colors.

Hearing someone shift behind me, I forced the smile away and stood back up.

"How did you know him?"

Startled by a clear, masculine voice, I gasped.

Looking behind me, I saw the boy that I had been watching earlier.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." he apologized.

I smiled softly before returning my gaze to the headstone.

'Norman Osborn: cherished business owner, associate and father.'