taming mr.tomlinson [larry stylinson] ✔️

47.

Harry hadn't worn a suit in so long, so the material felt itchy against his body, but there wasn't much he could do but pull at it or ignore it as he sat in the front row of his mother's funeral. Because the family had to sit in the front, Louis and Liam sat two rows behind Harry, which didn't help his nerves at all as he watched the priest speak about his mother as if he knew her.

The people around him that he called family barely knew her; no one knew her better than him.

Maybe he only thought that because the rest of the family rarely visited or spoke to them, only when there were gatherings, which didn't happen very much if Harry was honest. In the beginning of the service, before he separated from Louis and Liam, his family members and Anne's friends had come up to him and pat his back, said 'my condolences', and smiled weakly at him.

He was being treated like a China doll, and there was nothing that he despised more than that. He knew that Louis could sense his attitude, because when Harry quickly glanced over his shoulder to look for him, the man's face was blank and solemn, like he was trying to communicate with just his eyes to tell Harry to relax.

He strictly remembered his mother telling him that she didn't want a depressing funeral; she wanted a joyful funeral (preferably somewhere fun) and for everyone to wear bright colors instead of black and white because it would make her 'look bad'. Harry had worn a bright pink and purple tie, which stood out from the dull colors and attracted odd looks from some his family members. Harry had also made Louis wear a green tie, which made them even more questionable.

". . .this woman helped me when I needed it the most, and I couldn't thank her enough for it. It's sad to see her gone, but I bet she's watching over us with a giant smile on our faces," a lady by the name of Nonny said as she finished with her speech, then looked down at the green grass before she went back to her seat. She had been a family friend that Harry only met once, but seemed genuinely nice unlike the others.

"Would the son of Anne like to say a few words?" the priest asked, and caused everyone's attention to focus on Harry, who sat idle in his seat with his eyes glued on his mother's coffin. He shook his head and the priest nodded as a response, then lifted his hand slowly - a sign for people to rise. "We will start the lowering of the casket."

It goes slow after that, but it felt like Harry blank out from the entire thing since one minute he's watching dirt being thrown over his mother's coffin, and the next he's sitting a few feet away from the spot she was buried with his butt on the ground and his hand on his chin. He wouldn't say he felt empty - probably a little lonely, but his heart is filled with so much love when Liam and Louis sit on the opposite sides of him.

While Louis took his hand, Liam's head rested on Harry's shoulder and hummed some old folk song he had been listening to for a week -- Harry couldn't stand it. He wanted to speak to break the silence, but he didn't know if he could talk without wanting to break down in tears; he didn't want to do it in front of all of these people he barely knew.

"Is it me, or did your Aunt Dee get hotter?" Liam asked in a serious tone, then groaned in distress when he felt Harry slap him against the back. "Ow, it was just a question."

"It was a gross question." Louis responded candidly as he squeezed Harry's hand, then bumped shoulders with him to get his attention. "You know what we have in common, Harry?"

Harry blinked. "Our mothers are both dead?"

"I cannot relate to this," said Liam nervously, then stood up from his spot on the ground and dusted himself off, "but I'll be waiting in the car for you two. Don't be too long."