OCD ➳ Larry Stylinson

Chapter Thirty: Final Part Two

Harry's POV

It was my first proper funeral. When I was 8, my mum dragged me to a funeral for one of my distant relieves (one who'd I never met prior to seeing his glossed over dead body in the open casket) I felt no reason to be there. It was too soon after my dad had left, and my mum had just started to abuse me. I didn't care about him. I don't even remember his name.

But this funeral was different. I felt sick when I pulled on the black suit and tie. Louis had to tie it for me because my fingers were shaking too badly. His fingers grazed against my cheek.

"Hey, are you alright?" Louis asked softly. I nodded vaguely. My hands were still shaking badly. There was a slight knock on the door, and Louis's warm touch left my face.

"Ready?" grunted my step dad in a monotone voice. He eyed us, but his expression was hard to read. I haven't told him about Louis and I. I've always just referred to Louis as a friend. He probably sensed we were a bit more, but he never said anything. I really wasn't planning on ever telling him. I didn't respect him enough.

"Yes, sir," Louis said, smiling tightly. He was the only one smiling. Louis shuffled to the door, sending a glance towards me. I inhaled deeply. Louis hung around by the door for me, while my step dad left for the car. I looked at myself in the full length mirror one more time. My hair was slightly less of a mop, and my suit was pressed and fit me well. I hated it. I hated everything about all of this. I rubbed my eyes to keep myself from crying. Not crying because I was sad. I was just... angry.

"Haz?" Louis muttered to me, leaning against the door frame.

"S-sorry... just, sorry," I answered, trying to look like I wasn't panicking on the inside. I didn't want to go.

Louis sighed, walking over to me. He put his hands on my shoulders, running down my arms gently.

"I know this will be hard for you, there's no need to apologize, okay?" I nodded, looking at the carpeted floor of my room beneath me. "I love you, Harry."

"I love you, too." Louis leaned in and pressed our lips together softly.

He took my hand and walked us to the door of my bedroom. I turned off the light, 4 times, and shut the door 4 times as well. My hands were still shaking. Louis didn't say anything of course, he just took my hand and walked us to the front door, where a slick black car was waiting for us.

*

The white church where the funeral was taking place smelled like mold and Febreze. There were not many people there, and no one was really crying. I felt almost bad about that, and thought that maybe I should be crying, but I didn't. Louis led me in, his hand on the small of my back. I tried my best to not make eye contact with anyone, I just let Louis guide me to the pre-arranged seats we were supposed to be in.

"I don't like this," I said to Louis is a whisper. No one else heard me. I heard Louis sigh lightly, but he didn't make eye contact with me.

"I know you don't, Harry," he replied simply, sitting down on the brown church bench. I followed, sitting down awkwardly. The bench was cold and hard. I didn't like anything about this whole thing. There was a casket in front of the room. I insisted for it to not be an open casket funeral, I wouldn't be able to handle that. I averted my eyes quickly, not wanting to think about my mother's cold, dead corpse that was beneath the black wood.

In front of me, tucked away in a pocket on the bench, was a bible and a few pamphlets. The book was crooked, and the pamphlets were bent. I rearranged them quickly, slipping them back into place carefully. It was hot in the low lit room, making my palms sweaty. I was anxious, almost nervous. I hated everything. I started to tap my fingers, hardly even noticing.