Aureate | Harry Styles

20

ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: Marjorie by Taylor Swift ───────────────⚪─────────── ◄◄⠀▐▐ ⠀►►⠀⠀ ⠀ 2:00/ 3:33 ⠀

"i should have asked you questions, i should have asked you how to be. asked you to write it down for me, should have kept every grocery store receipt 'cause every scrap of you would be taken from me..."
•••

"Emerson," I hear Harry say, knocking on the door to my childhood bedroom, "You almost ready, babe?"

I sigh and look at myself in the mirror one last time, and tug at my dress. Harry comes up behind me, and wraps his arms securely around my waist, and kisses my neck softly. I lean back into his embrace and let my heavy eyes shut for just a moment before we enter the chaos that is going on downstairs.

When I open them, my eyes take in Harry, standing in a pair of brown slacks, a cream polo shirt with stitched detailing, and his classic loafers. He looks himself, but somehow also fits the small town we are in right now. Seeing him standing within the four pink walls of my childhood bedroom is surreal. I point quietly at the One Direction poster that still hangs on the back of my door, and he chuckles, pressing a kiss to my hair.

It's our second day in Charleston, and so far things have been as smooth as they can be. My dad is arriving shortly from DC, and my mother has been so busy with preparations that I have only seen her a couple of times, very briefly. Harry has integrated himself perfectly into the operations of me and my siblings, helping with more than he should and constantly entertaining Lilah when we are occupied with something more serious.

Tomorrow is the funeral. I feel so unprepared, unsure how I will respond to celebrating a life that ended much too soon. Blair was supposed to be here for my wedding and holding my hand when my children are born. But in an instant, those things were snatched away from me with no warning. It's difficult to come to terms with something so sudden and so heartbreaking.

"Baby," Harry coos, snapping me out of my thoughts, "We need to go downstairs, your dad will be here any minute,"

I nod shortly and clutch tightly to his outstretched hand. I have been a woman of few words ever since I woke up from my nap on the plane. Harry has been gracious, not pushing me to say more than I'm comfortable with, even though I know it's bothering him. I kiss his cheek quickly and his eyes lighten a bit.

Harry and I walk through the halls of my families old southern mansion, to the large sprawling staircase. I can see a car pull up outside of the large glass front door, and immediately drop Harry's hand, running down the stairs and outside to great my father. My body reaches his the second he steps out of the door, and I jump into his arms, the force almost knocking us both down. My loafers fall off, and I don't try to put them back on as I hang on to my father tightly.

"Peanut," He drawls, and a sob catches in my throat at the sound of his voice, "Oh my darling girl, it's going to be okay,"

The familiar scent of tobacco and peppermint fills my nose, and I feel the cool of his class ring on my arm. My dad— a consistent, kind, understanding, level-headed man, and one of my favorite people in the world. The comfort his arms bring me is unlike what Scarlett and Harry both can provide. I needed him here two days ago, and finally being in his arms makes me feel much better than I expected. As much as Harry does help, there's a certain calm that the arms of my father bring.

After a minute, Dad lets go of me, and grabs onto my face, taking in my features like he always does whenever I see him. This time, though, he is distracted by a person standing at the top of the stairs—Harry. I watch him trot down the sidewalk , and thrust his hand out.