Grow Up With Me - Larry Stylinson [BoyxBoy]

Epilogue

Almost crying right now cause I'm going to miss writing this so much! I hope you all enjoyed reading it, and please comment telling me if you liked:) 

This epilogue was written at approx four in the morning so I hope you can bare with me and ignore any possible spelling mistakes, at the very least :) I love you guys!!!:) xxxx

PS: it's not too long, but I haven't evev checked the word count:$ gonna be a surprise to me, too, how many pages this is hhaha

-Britt

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Epilogue

"Somtimes," I breathed, looking out to the blank and shattered faces that stared back at me, "sometimes... we remember a lot more than we'd like." I swallowed a lump that had been growing in my throat, shutting my eyes and taking in all the air in the room. There must have been a thousand people, making the air thick with foggy eyes.

"We can't change which days we remember. We can't choose which days we forget. We don't get to pick if the ones that stick with us haunt us, or make us smile upon remembering them," Jay coughed in the crowd, a choked and dreadful cough, her arm around Lottie who held hands down the line with the rest of the Tomlinson girls. I bit my lip, trying to tear my eyes away from her broken expression, but they ended up dropping to the paper in front of me, anyway. As if I could read what I'd prepared with the gleam in my eyes and the pounding in my throat and the whisper of Louis' voice that never left my ear. I hoped that he wasn't too far away that he couldn't enjoy my nervous rambling and embarressing breakdown.

"We are followed around by our memories. Maybe it's those memories that makes us who and what we are. Maybe, by chosing to celebrate them all, good or bad, we become stronger and closer with everyone around us."

That was what we were supposed to be doing, wasn't it? Celebrating Louis' life? 

I looked to my right where the casket lay. It was closed, as per Jay's request. I don't think I could have handled an open, anyway. Louis was in there. Louis' lifeless, drained body lay only feet away from me. I wondered, as I'd been wondering since I'd heard his last words and since they'd echoed over and over in my head, if he was releaved at all. If he was fucking glad that he shoved murcury, permanently, into my stomach. I wondered if he was scared to be buried later that day. I wondered if he was comfortable enough, if he could breathe.

But even I couldn't breathe. And I was supposed to be alive.

I tried swallowing again, the lump had grown wider than my throat and I worried that it had caused a second adams apple or that it was too noticable that the people in the very back would think I was choking. But wasn't I, though? My eyes stung. They were rinsed in acid, it felt, burning through the layers and turning them into a drunkenly sober bloodshot fires. I struggled, as per usual over those past few days, to suck in a breath worthy of pumping my heart and sending blood where it needed to be. But it was more of a gasp that echoed through the mic, bouncing off the cement walls and colorful stained glass windows of the massive church.

Louis wasn't even religious.

I couldn't  see any faces in the crowd now. They were all blended into a smear of wet tears that netted over my eyes and turned the corners of my mouth down. I leaned to the podium, trying to balance my shaking legs and letting out another absurd sound from the bottom of my stomach. It echoed again. Everything always echoed when Louis was away.

I felt strong arms grasp my shoulders, pulling me from the podium. I held it, though, and the arms stopped pulling. I heard the arms sigh, so I tried to compose myself by straightening out the paper, biting my swollen lip as if it'd ever stopped bleeding in the first place.