The Styles Triplets

Chapter 30

For the past two days, I hadn't really lived.

I stayed in bed. Curtains closed. Phone ignored. Time meaningless. I hadn't even showered.

Normally that would have bothered me—the feeling of being unclean, unproductive, lazy. But grief stripped away things like embarrassment. When something inside you breaks this completely, basic routines stop mattering.

My boyfriend. My best friend. My person. Gone. And today I was expected to sit in a room and watch people say goodbye to him like that was a normal thing humans survived.

Today was the funeral. And I wasn't ready. I wasn't ready to see Marcel lying still in a polished wooden box, dressed nicely, pretending to look peaceful when nothing about this was peaceful. I didn't know if I could survive seeing him like that.

A soft knock came at my door.

"Alex," Dad said gently as he stepped inside. "You should start getting ready, babe."

"I know," I murmured, though I hadn't moved.

He lingered in the doorway. "Do you want your mom and me to come with you?"

I shook my head and slowly sat up. "I think I need to do this alone."

He nodded, understanding more than he said. "Alright. Maybe... start with a shower?"

I looked up at him weakly. "Do I smell that bad?"

He hesitated just long enough to answer honestly without hurting me. "Just... take one."

After he left, I dragged myself into the bathroom.

The tile floor felt cold against my feet, grounding me in a way nothing else had for days. I undressed mechanically and stepped into the shower. Hot water poured over me. For several minutes, I didn't move. I just stood there. Breathing. Letting the warmth soak into muscles that had been tight since the moment Harry said the words.

Marcel is dead.

Somehow, when I stepped out, I felt lighter. Not better—never better—but cleaner. More capable of pretending to be functional.

I dressed slowly, applying makeup with shaking hands.

Each movement carried one unbearable thought: This is the last time I will ever see him.

- - - 

The funeral home parking lot was already full.

I sat in the car long after turning off the engine, staring at the entrance. People walked in wearing black, speaking softly, living normally while my world had ended. My hand hovered over the door handle.

I couldn't do it.

A knock startled me.

Harry stood outside the car. He opened the door gently. "Hey."

"Hey Haz." I said with a weak smile.

"Hey, Haz," I said, managing a faint smile.

"How are you holding up?"

I thought about it.

"I feel... nothing," I admitted.

He nodded immediately. "Yeah. Me too."

He offered his hand. "We'll do this together."

I squeezed it. "Together."

 - - -

Inside, the room was already crowded. Classmates. Teachers. People who barely knew Marcel. People who hadn't defended him when he needed them.

Bitterness rose in my chest, but I swallowed it. This wasn't the place.