Ugly (Dark Harry Styles AU)

Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

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The cold Chicago wind licks the blades of the green grass and shook the branches of the wise trees towering above. The sun was trapped behind whirls of grey clouds and casted bereavement over the graveyard.

"My mother has always been full of life and love, so let this day be full of the same."

I look over the crowd of people that were gathered here today. Almost 150 people. 150 people who used to know and love my mother. 150 people who felt the sting of great loss on this devastating day. 

My chest ache with happiness and my eyes water at the thought of how many hearts my mom managed to capture. Helpless souls wandered into Marias' open arms, their lives, reestablished. She was well qualified in the art of giving love, and sadly, this was her tragic flaw. This 'Ugly' killer took advantage of my mom's trusting and loving nature and murdered many peoples tragic hero.

Taking a deep shaky breath, I continue my eulogy, "Instead of grieving, let us all celebrate the wonderful life that my mom had. Let us remember her flirtatious behavior, the fire in her voice when she spoke about something she believed in, and how easily she cared and loved."

Skimming over the crowd, I observe Leo and his wife in the front row. 10 years ago, my ears bled from my mom's rant about roller-skating into Leo at the park. Before Leo's wife, after literally running into each other at the park, they began to date. This probably lasted a week before they figured out they were better off as friends, both too alike to stand each other any other way. Leo always had the dream of owning his own business; it was my mom who pushed him to take action. My mom as his muse, he took a loan out, found the perfect space, and built the spa. As a kid, I remembered the long nights I use to spend at the spa, helping my mom and Leo put it together.

Next to Leo sat Mrs. Norman. My mom and I first met Mrs. Norman when we moved into our new apartment right across from hers'. I was about 9 at the time when my mom thought it would be a good idea to bake cookies and give them to the neighbor's. Knocking on Mrs. Normans' door, I could remember the chain of curse words we got for disturbing her sleeping cats. Mrs. Norman hated us. With every party and get-together, Mrs. Norman never failed to tell us exactly what she thought of the noise and her cats. However, my mom was just as relentless in delivering cookies every weekend and inviting her over for our get-together's, claiming that Mrs. Norman was just a lonely old woman. It wasn't until I was 13, on Christmas day, that Mrs. Norman appeared at our door, with her favorite cat 'Misty' in arm, to attend our holiday get-together.  

Out of all of the people in the audience, it was probably John who took her death the hardest. John first met my mother in college as a transfer student who just left his life in the UK. I observe Johns' fatigued face as I remember the story of the start of their amazing friendship. My mother's first day of working as a barista, Johns' jet lagged body wandered into the coffee shop that was across the street from his new apartment. Ordering a black coffee, my mom served, however, instead of the cup of brew being served on the table it was delivered all over his lap. Apparently, John left a life that he was not proud of in the UK and my mom helped him through a lot of it. 

Tired sad faces of my mom's friends look up at me and I look back, my eyes pausing and focusing on one who didn't belong. What is he doing here?

His vibrant green eyes was sodden in sorrow and pain, a feeling I didn't think he had. His face was stiff in stress and his plump pink lips were tightly pressed together forming a line. I wonder what he is thinking.

His long toned body stood on the far right side of the crowd in all black clothing and surprisingly, no camera in hand. The others were completely unaware of his existence, but he had my full attention. Every time I see him he somehow captures my full attention. I don't know what it is about him that appeals to me so much, since he has been nothing but disrespectful to me, but I still find myself flying towards the bright light that is guaranteed to burn me.

Maybe I am growing to like him? 

Or maybe what I am feeling is just sexual tension?

Searching the answers to these questions felt dangerous and my conscience screams at me to dismiss the thought and forget about him. Be that as it may, my mind always seemed to wander back to him and his piercing green eyes. Maybe once I had a dose of him I would be over it, I thought, or maybe I'd become addicted...

Shaking my head lightly and clearing my throat, I attempt to free my mind of Harry and continue, "And sadly someone saw that and took advantage of her. They saw the light in her and were determined to blow it out without consequence."

My eyes met Harry's once more, to find that his attitude had done a complete 180 turn. His previously somber sad green eyes  were a dark emerald color now, and were filled with poisonous anger. His dark eyebrows were furrowed in sternness and lips firmly turned downwards. Harry's slumped stance from before was now replaced with a straight tense posture.

My forehead creased in confusion, but I decided to ignore it. "The thing is, I am pretty determined too, and I will not stop until I find them. They will get what they deserve," I growl.

I take a deep breath trying to calm myself down. This isn't the time for that, I tell myself. These past two weeks have been hell for my sanity. I swear I go through every emotion possible within the time span of 10 minutes.

"I'm sorry," I rasp, shamefully looking down at my trembling hands. I refuse to let myself talk about Ugly at my mom's funeral.

Looking up at the audience once more, I found that everyone was basking in gloom. Some were crying quietly to themselves and taking comfort in their loved ones. Others were trying to uphold a brave face and keep themselves together, but no matter the difference in the way they dealt with their grief, they all look at me with pity.

I was now the lonely girl who had no family to lean on. I used to be the girl that had an unstable mother and a missing father, but now I had no one.

I need a fuckin.g drink.

"When someone you love passes away, you start to regret all the things you wish you would have said, and if she was here today I know what I would have told her:

Mom, you are the most openhearted person I know, and because of that, you are also the most loved person I know. I remember the times when I got home from school and I would find you curled up on the couch with a tub of mint ice cream, watching reruns of "Friends" on Netflix. When I asked what was wrong you would always tell me that you felt alone. But mom, you were never alone. So many people love you mom, I love y-you," my eyes cloud over with tears, "and I hope you never feel alone again."

After the service was over, and everyone was done offering me their apologies and telling me that if I ever needed anything that they are their for me and all that bullshi.t, I walk over to Harry who was hidden away from the crowd that was leaving.

Silence filled the space that was between Harry and I as we examine each other. Harry shamelessly looked me over as his pink tongue swipes over his bottom wanton lip, holding back a devilish smile. My heart flutters at the thought of taking action, and finding out how deeply rooted my feelings are for him.

I already lost so much, what else do I have to lose.

"You wanna go get a drink?" I ask before he can say something to ruin everything.

He smirks with an evil glint in his eye, and then holds out his large hand.

I eye his hand carefully. This is it. If I take his hand there is no going back. Whatever ends up happening tonight and beyond will be completely my fault because I decided to ride this roller coaster with him.

"If you know what's good for you, you would turn around and walk away."

I look down at the ground and think to myself. This is the only way to go if I want to find out more about him. Besides, do I really want him to leave me alone? Yes, he is a huge asshol.e and is pretty scary and intimidating, but I saw something different in him at the party. Besides I'm tired of caring, I want to get drunk and get laid.

Looking back up at his wicked green eyes, "I don't want to be alone tonight."

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