My Gay Roommate (L.S)

Eleven

Mum picked me up on Saturday for the funeral Monday. 

I have to be back at uni for an exam on Tuesday so that's gonna be fun. 

Louis gave me a massive hug before I left, telling me I was strong and I'll be able to get through it. It made a weight lift off my shoulders but as soon as I closed the car door and left the flat behind, that weight decided to come plummeting back down on me again, squishing my ribs and breaking my heart and puncturing my lungs. 

My leg jiggled the whole way back to Holmes Chapel, where Gemma embraced me with a tear in her eye. 

We helped mum fold dad's shirts- making sure there wasn't a wrinkle in sight- to put in a box. I don't know what mum wants to do with them now, she may just keep them but seeing them hung up kept her crying because it was a reminder he wouldn't be able to come and slip one on for their date nights or for work. 

Silent tears shed, tracing paths down my blush struck cheeks, fingers tremor with the action. I slipped one of the black shirts over my plain top, buttoning it up and the woodsy scent mixed with the lavender washing detergent mixed into one, making it feel as if he were here in the room. 

I haven't taken it off since. It's baggy, hanging loosely against my body, only being filled slightly on my broad shoulders. He was an XL, I'm only a medium. 

Mum helped me down from a panic attack Saturday after we packed the box with his clothes. I kept apologising to her because I found it not fair that my anxiety was coming out when she needed the reassurance herself. She told me I was being stupid and that she understood why my anxiety was peaking. I'm still not so convinced. 

We cuddled up on the sofa Sunday night, not wanting to let go as we all wept together, dad's favourite movie playing in the background- ET.

I cried myself to sleep and I'm guessing mum found the strength to drag me into my room. She's a strong woman, I don't know how she had the energy to carry me to my room but she managed because I can feel the soft covers beneath my palms, the pillow soft and spongy on my cheek. 

I roll over, not wanting to wake up and face the day. Today is dad's funeral and I'm not ready for it. I want to stay in my dreams where I'm with Louis and the others, doing karaoke and drinking shots. I already miss them. Not as much as I miss dad, I know I can just go back to my dorm and they'll be there. I came back here and dad wasn't here, it just shows he really is gone and the realisation stings. 

There's a light knock on my door and someone's brushing my hair off my face with cold fingers. "Harry, love," Mum whispers, her voice laced with already shed and unshed tears. "We gotta get up, baby boy."

I slowly open my eyes that are blurry with sleep, looking up at her. Her blue eyes look pained, mixed with devastation. She gives me the weakest of smiles. 

I slowly get up, knowing that once I'm up then I'll have to start the day and I don't think I'm mentally ready for that. I grab my phone, checking the time to see it's nine in the morning. There's a text from Louis and I open it straight away.

Lou: Hey, love! Just wanted to let you know that you're strong and you'll get through this hard time. I'll be waiting for you and I'll be here for you every step of the way. Say hi to your mum for me! X

I bite my lip, texting him back a thanks and slapping the phone onto my bedside table.

"Louis says hi," I whisper, standing and going over to my wardrobe. 

I don't have that many clothes now that they're all at uni but I thankfully have something smart to wear for this.

"You're on speaking terms now?" She asks, shock in her voice. I look over to see that she sure enough has her eyebrows risen.