Where You Are (Larry Stylinson)

Epilogue

(A/N: yeah. Told you this was going to be short I'm starting a new story next. I'm not sure what it's going to be, I have many ideas.
If your pretty good at writing and feel like you could do a better job at this, please do. Honestly this plot could have been written much better. Don't even give me credit. Just send me a link or something so I can see it written properly. Sad to be ending the story, but here it is. ALSO HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY HARRY STYLES. YOUR FUCKEN TWENTY ONE)

Louis POV:

We were all dressed in suits, looking clean cut and collected. We were far from it.

The lads hadn't spoken to me since the night in the hospital, I was starting to doubt they would even come to the funeral.

Oh yes. February 1st. They couldn't have chosen a worse day. The day Harry would have turned 21.

The four of us walked through the doors of the funeral home together, but quickly disbanded. We only stuck together for the sake of the 'image'

I don't know why that still mattered. Everyone knew One Direction needed Harry. We needed all our members to preform. It was so hard all the days Harry was out sick, but now he's gone. Like gone-gone. It's just recently sunk in, and I had a meltdown in Harry's room.

I had walked in to use his bathroom, smelled his cologne in the air and collapsed. It was too much.

And now here I was, dressed in black for his funeral.

Many people spoke, not many that knew Harry personally. The other lads spoke. I probably should have said a few words myself, but I couldn't without turning into a blubbering mess.

The moment they closed the casket was when I completely lost myself.

I've heard that you're supposed to go through anger before you go through depression, but that's not how I felt it.

I didn't want to believe Harry was dead, then when I accepted it, all I feel is sadness.

A great, drowning sadness.

Every color had dulled to gray, nothing could compare to the vibrant green of Harry's eyes or the strong red of his lips.

All of us lads had been casket bearers, I don't think they had spoken to even each other. I guess I hadn't thought of them.

Tears rolled down all our cheeks as we carried the coffin to the hearse, cameras flashing from behind gates.

The gravesite we had chosen for Harry was private, you had to have a card to get in, you got one when you registered at the funeral.

There were no paparazzi around, just the group of people and the sound of the machine lowering Harry's body into the ground.

Everyone had left. All except me and they lads. We stood there in a single line before the mound of dirt that will soon have a tombstone reading : Harry Styles, 1994-2015

He hadn't wanted a message to go with it. He made that clear before he... Left.

We stood there in silence for a good twenty minutes before we heard a camera click behind us.

"What the hell are you doing here?!," Zayn snapped at the good-for-nothing scumbag. This was private property, "How did you even get in here!"

"Dude, these cards are selling quick," the reporter replied languidly as he snapped another photo.

A look of shock came over my face. Harry's friends and family were selling tickets to come see his grave.

"Get out," I shot at him, "Get out before I personally beat the shit out of you,"

"If he can't do it himself, we will gladly help," the others stepped up.

A look of fear crossed over his face before he took one last picture of us standing there, intimidatingly.

He ran off after that, I'm sure the photograph of us standing in front of Harry's grave with our heads down will end up on every social media there is, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

"Louis, I'm sorry," Niall spoke to me, "sorry for being a homophobic prick. Sorry for not being there for you the last couple of days,"

He shot me a sad look.

"Yeah I know. I'm sorry for being gay,"

"He was your boyfriend, wasn't he," Zayn asked.

I nodded my head. If I spoke I wouldn't be able to hold it together.

We stood there for a while longer before one by one, our group dwindled down to just me.

I laid on the ground and rested my head against the mound of earth as soon as I was alone in the grave yard.

I breathed in deeply and imagined Harry lying next to me, laughing about how silly it is to be lying in a graveyard.

"Hey Harry," I spoke to no one, "I just wanted to say goodbye. I know we said it last night, but I didn't want it to be good bye. If I could have stayed with you, do you think you would have lived? Is it my fault that your here, lying cold in the ground instead of warm in my bed?" Tears fell from my cheeks as I spoke to Harry, "it isn't fair though, you did nothing to deserve this. Why couldn't I have gotten Cancer? People wouldn't have minded as much, One Direction could still preform, and there'd be one less fag in the world,"

I sighed and rested my hands on my chest, wishing for Harry back.

"I just miss you so much," I cried harder, "I wish you were here. Is it selfish to say I wish it was someone else? Is it completely horrible to say I would wish this on someone else if it meant you were still here?" I could barely breathe, I was sobbing so hard, "Harry, I love you so much,"

(A/N: THATS ALL FOLKS. THATS THE END. IM GOING TO START MY NEW ONE THAT MAY OR MAY NOT BE SLIGHTLY BETTER IDK. PROBABLY NOT. LOL BYE FELICIA)