Styles Towers.

Piece by piece.

I stand with Harry's fingers tangled with mine, his sister standing on the other side of him.

We are all outfitted in black as the crisp atmosphere surges around us. For late November it is a little warmer than usual but still stiff enough to continuously send shivers down my back.

My heart shatters, not just for Harry but for the divided family that couldn't even come together to pay their last respects to Logan. He may not have been the best of men out there, he has his fair share of concerns and ill-doing within the world, I am sure, but everyone deserves to be surrounded by family as they are lowered into the earth.

As I look between the four of us: Harry, his sister, the priest and myself. I take a deep breath as I realise that in life, you get what you give and sometimes that just isn't reasonable enough. I recognize Logan gave more than to deserve a whole four people bidding him farewell for the last time. It disheartens me that this gentleman really did have nobody in his life besides for his work. I couldn't envision having a life where it was just me. Imagining a life without having family around me or falling in love is a life I would never want to live. Logan didn't even get to discover the love of his life... He hardly managed to reconnect with his broken family.

I wince at the sound of Harry sniffling through tears while he holds his sister to his side, taking his role of the big-little brother with pride. I allow our hands to part as he moves to embrace his sister. I can only assume regret is to blame for most of the tears that are being shed today. It wasn't their fault though, their father formulated a mess that split the three siblings, they were all at dead-end roads.

What else would one do when finding out their father created a love child with a woman that wasn't their own mother? Resentment is an unrelenting drug that sometimes carries over for too long and for the wrong reasons.

The priest says a few words and prayers before the lifeless silence permeates the crisp air around us, nothing but the howling of the wind and the last of the stagnant leaves rustle against the gravel sound. All while accompanied by ravens cackling while watching over us in an eerie manner.

Harry's arm curls back around me and he draws me closer to him as the wind chill gets colder. I feel him hold me tighter and closer than usual while using the coldness as an excuse, but I know better. He's holding onto me because I am his safety blanket at the moment— his safe haven you could say. Through thick and thin.

As his vows to me said— I will hold with him as well.

"I promise to cherish you through everything, to be your anchor when you need it, to be the shoulder you cry on, and the one to hold you up when you're down. On days when you can only give twenty percent effort, I will give the other eighty."

Today is one of those days where I hold the eighty percent while he musters up the twenty in return. It is days like this where my shoulder is his comfort to rest his head on and my presence is to hold him up while he is down.

*** ***

While my hand is clasped against Harry's arm, I sense him tense beneath it. He grumbles something under his breath as I detect someone coming into view, leading towards us from the shadowy trees in the distance. He is dressed in black suit pants, a white button up, and a black coat and his hair is Achilles-gold and coiffed to perfection. Despite the tragedy, someone else showing up to pay their respect overflows my heart with a little bit of happiness. It's pleasing to know that the three of us aren't the only ones who Logan had contact with besides work colleagues.

The closer the unknown man gets, the more I feel Harry tense beneath my tender touch. "Harry," the man approaches, offering his hand to Harry, but Harry rejects it, sharply.