Ashton has known " the boys" since her junior year of high school. Her brothers friends were constantly getting her into trouble, Harry especially.
She hated him more than anyone but as much as she wanted to go her own way, his hands pull pulled he...
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I'd never really noticed how pretty Niall's eyes were until I spent 30 minutes staring into them. We were hiding in a back room, sitting with our kneecaps pressed together to fit. We'd spent a lot of time hiding in closets and back rooms together, but never like this. Never without Harry. Never staring at each other and copying each other's breathing.
Never hiding at a funeral.
The door creaked open and broke our concentration, Zayn's tall frame filtered out the light though. "G's looking for you, Ni."
"I know," he said it so softly.
"She's worried about you." Z explained.
"I know," he whispered again.
"Scoot. Make room. Three's a crowd or whatever you two say." Niall snorted half a laugh as Zayn climbed in over our knees and sat behind us, pulling the door closed behind him.
I didn't know most of the people out there, but they were weeping. They were holding each other, crying with such emotion that I was almost jealous.
I was almost jealous of their ability to feel their pain.
I watched them move through the room, covering their mouths with tissues and squeezing their eyes shut at the photos of him. The photos I picked out. The photos I framed and ordered and placed around that godforsaken room that I never wanted to step foot in again.
When we made the call, the funeral director cried. When we arrived to make arrangements, he hugged all three of us and cried again. He told us it was unfair that we knew this process so well. He told us that it was unfair that we reserved another plot next to Louis.
He had no grasp on just how unfair all of it was.
He asked if we wanted a casket or cremation, and he advised against a viewing. I agreed that an open casket viewing of a man who died of a head-on collision didn't seem like a smart idea. He looked uncomfortable after that.
Niall had to identify his body, so I made it a mission to handle most everything else. I picked the flowers, I picked the urn, I picked the date and time for the service, I picked out the plot next to Louis, and then Zayn went ahead and bought the plots for the entire rest of the area. Someday we'd all be there, together again.
The photos were simultaneously the hardest part and also my favorite part. My hands shook as I picked through them all, but my mind came alive with memories.
I have so many memories that no one else will ever get.
No one in the world would ever know Harry the way that I did. As I flicked through the photographs, I realized just how lucky I was to say that I loved him. That I was loved by him. Even if we only said just once, we knew. I had to believe that he knew. In every touch of my hand across his back on a lazy morning or the way I'd scrub his scalp when we'd shower together, he had to know. The way my eyes melted for him and my fingers always reached for him, he had to have felt how irresistible he was to me.