Frat Boy Harry (slow updates)

1.2

Sitting in the pews with Harry and his family was extremely hard.  I had never known this woman; I hadn’t even met her once.  I was awkwardly sitting there, I had no tears streaming down my face; I was the only one in the family row who wasn’t crying obnoxiously.  I decided my best bet was to sit there and try to comfort Harry, which I was complete shit at.  Sitting there watching him cry and trying to console him made me realize he wasn’t just the douche everyone though he was who just so happened to be bad at French.  He had emotions; he cared about people, maybe not everyone, but definitely some people.

When it was Harry’s turn to make a speech, the words were held back by heart breaking sobs.  He would get a few words out but then they would almost be overshadowed by his large inhale of breath as he tried to suppress the pain he was in.  Gasping for his breath, he finally finished and returned to the pew.  He waited until his mom took the stand before he collapsed over on to his knees shaking.  He was trying to even out his breaths, but they kept getting caught between his lungs and his mouth.

He adjusted himself– with his elbows on his knees and his hands holding his head; he was still bent over, but his breathing was becoming more and more steady.  After I watched him shoo away his sister, I wasn’t sure he wanted my consoling efforts.  I still laid my hand on his lower thigh, near his knee and moved my thumb back and forth—something small but normally pretty affective. 

When all the speeches were over, the normal ceremony continued with words of comfort for the family.  Harry seemed to calm down as much as possible.  He leaned closer to me just ever so slightly as the talking continued.  He was still hunched over but I took the opportunity and rested my head on his back, with my left ear to his chest,  moving my hand to his lower back continuing to rub circles trying to calm him. 

Almost the entire church ate dinner at the Styles’ house after the observance.  The house seemed a lot smaller when 4 dozen people were inside, mulling about.  Smiles were everywhere and tears where nowhere unless it was from laughing too hard. The turnaround of moods was one of the quickest I think I have ever seen.

Any conversation I listened to was fun stories about Harry’s nan—the silly things she did as a child, the amazing work she did with the community, the vocal lessons she gave, or just her general caring nature.  Everyone in the house seemed to love her unconditionally.  I smiled and nodded as they continued to tell the stories, listening to the family life that Harry had grown up with and slowly became envious.  I had become despondent after a time and excused myself.

I sat there thinking about all the love that was in the house, what seemed to radiate from everyone.  After a time of that, I grew frustrated and wanted to leave.  The house was just to love-y.  I wasn’t used to that, I was envious of that, but I also had no way to leave the uncomfortable situation.  I instinctively grabbed my phone to call someone and see if I could find a way home, but instead I found 2 voicemails and 6 text messages.  

Niall: we need to talk

Layla: hey babe just wanted to check in

Layla: let me know when you’ll be back

Niall: really we need to chat

Niall: answer your phone

Niall: are you with Harry?

I answered Layla because she was my priority.   I couldn’t care less about what Niall wanted or why he was so concerned about talking with me.  I was on the phone with Layla complaining about the atmosphere when a loud creek from the door startled me. I looked over my shoulder to find Harry staring at me smirking. “Layla let me call you back,” I kept my eyes on Harry as I hung up with her.  “Uhm, what’s up?”