With You┃Dylan O'Brien ⓵

Chapter Thirty-Three : Making the Most of the Worst

Dylan's POV

Saturday morning, just two days after hearing the news about Avery, I sit in the back of a long black car. Anita is at my side huddled against me, squeezing onto my hand as if her life depends on it. On the other side of her are her parents, and across from us sit her aunt Nadia, and Avery's parents.

These past couple of days I've thought Anita looked absolutely distraught, but then I saw Carina, Avery's mother. Looking at that woman is like witnessing grief and despair in its purest form. She cries hard and she cries often.

Avery's father wears a permanent, heavy frown and hardly ever speaks. Anita's aunt Nadia is crying silently but often, in fact it almost seems as if she never truly stops crying entirely. Anita's father, Scott, is the one who bears a brave face for anyone; his expression is always stony as if he's trying block off any and all emotions, which I don't doubt he is.

Anita's mother is the only person who has not displayed any strong emotion. Admittedly, she appears caught off guard and somewhat sad, though whenever I catch a glance of her face it looks entirely blank.

As for myself, I cannot say that I am necessarily feeling the same grief as all of them. I never got the opportunity to meet Avery, quite unfortunately, but despite that I feel an enormous wave of sadness throughout me.

Much like Scott, I simply try my hardest to be a strong person in the group. More than anything, I am here as a support system for Anita and her family, to comfort and assure them in their grieving.

My girlfriend asked me if I would please come with her to the funeral, saying that she needs me now more than ever. I definitely could not argue that statement and even so, I doubt I could ever say no to her.

The inside of the funeral home looks like a sea of black. There is quite a number of attendees at this funeral and as per tradition, they are all cloaked in black clothing. Anita's black heels click on the ground beside me as we walk down the aisle in between the rows of benches holding the mourners.

Practically everyone watches us as we make our way to the very front row of benches, several people mentioning their sorrow for our loss. Anita pulls me to the right side of the aisle where her grandmother is already sitting.

I watch as the two of them embrace for quite some time before her grandmother pulls me into a smothering hug as well, and tells me that she is glad that I am here. I sit down between the two of them and look down to my right at my girl.

I watch as she suddenly spots a very large photo of Avery, which immediately causes her to tense up; her grip on my hand tightens immensely before she hugs onto my arm tightly, burying her face into my shoulder. I hold her close to me as I stroke her hair and attempt to calm her.

"Baby, don't cry," I say quietly. "Your cousin loves you, he doesn't want you to cry. It's going to be okay."

From the other side of me, her grandmother nods in agreement and reaches over me to briefly squeeze her knee in an assuring manner. A man I've never seen before sitting in the row behind us passes me a large box of tissues which I gladly take before handing a couple to Anita.

She uses them before grabbing a couple more, gradually sitting upright. She finally sits back up, though she rests her head upon my shoulder whereupon I give it a kiss, her hand never ceasing to clutch mine.

Soon enough a tall, thin man with a large mustache begins speaking about life, and death, and then specifically, though briefly, about Avery's life. Then a man dressed in a Naval uniform comes forth to speak about how Avery died, which surprises me because who wants to hear the saddening details about how their loved one died? He says that he had sustained third-degree burns to the majority of his body, but what caused his death was the prolonged inhalation of smoke.