Solace ~ h.s.

If he weren't there... I don't know what would have happened.

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Black. A swarm of black is all I can see. It's the darkest colour in our universe, absorbing all light until only a swipe of nothingness can be seen. It can be associated with power, insecurity, fear, and death of all things. The dreaded colour was once a favorite of mine, before the phase went out of style like mom-jeans.

Before, when I saw black all I could see was a sleek new vehicle or the curtains that I used to own. There was something so reminiscent about the colour, even with it's mystery and power. I never saw the colour to be truly pessimistic, only as that one different kid at school who seems a bit odd but is actually quite grand.

Now when I see the colour black, all I can see is terror, death, and sadness. Upon closing your eyes it's all you see, but for me it's just the blank screen before the tragic memory plays on like a film in the cinema. Even with eyes open on days like today, there's no escaping the darkness and sorrow the colour brings. I find myself hating myself for ever thinking the colour was "cool".

In the time since waking this morning to a clouded sky and rain droplets falling as if there was no tomorrow, I've heard the words I'm sorry for your losses a million times over. Not even my house was safe from those five words. The telephone rang and it was a distant friend of me mum's, apologizes for our loss and not being able to be in attendance of the funeral. Then from the first step from the house, it was the only thing that Edward and I heard.

The funeral itself dragged on for a terribly long time. I say that only because for the guests it was a time to not only mourn, but to witness a young adult and a child breakdown before their very eyes. Edward cried harder than I had expected him too, even rushing up to the caskets at one point to just sit before them and cry. I felt the need to keep myself together, but how can you when your parents are being lowered into the ground and your brother is in a screaming fit.

"I need you to take him" I had said to Niall, who felt the need to join even having never met my two wonderful parents. Without question he had scooped the boy up off the ground and held him tightly until the heavy breathing was the only sound that could ever be heard.

And the sickest part? The few guests that were in attendance just stood back and watched in silence, judging with their eyes and throwing pity as if it were shade. They didn't know what to say and how could they?

As Niall had comforted by brother when I couldn't, I stood before the cemetery workers, watching as they filled the two holes. The guests didn't stick around during the act, politely scampering off after telling me to stop by or call if we needed anything. Where were they when mum and dad were alive?

Shovelful after shovelful I watched until the tops of the caskets could no longer be seen and the only coulour then could be seen was brown.

In Loving Memory of:

Jacqueline Rose Chambers and Philip Michael Chambers

From my peripheral vision, I could see him approaching my side. He wore black dress pants and black leather shoes, pairing the bottom ensemble with a classic white button-up and sleek blazer. His hands were dug deep in his pockets and his eyes were cast to the floor.

I hadn't asked him to come, but there was no need. He and I both knew that I needed him here today, our newfound friendship the only brightness in such a dark time.

Plus, he had been living on the sofa in our lounge for such a long time that it would be almost rude not allow him to tag along.

He didn't say much and for that I'm grateful. He stayed by our side, him and Niall both, keeping watchful eye on Edward and I as we mourned. All I needed was the comfort of someone at such a sorrowful time.

"I can't believe it." The words tumble out from my parted lips, getting swept away in the spring breeze. After everything today, those four words are the only words in the English language I can vocalize.

Harry doesn't say anything in response, possibly because there isn't a response that could do anything in this moment.

"You know what I see, Harry, all around us?" The question is rhetorical and I don't wait for a response before continuing on, "I see darkness and sorrow, and I don't wish the feeling onto anyone, not even my worst enemy. You know why? Because it hurts, it really stings." My voice cracks and I fit the urge to cry again.

I've shed enough tears today and I know my mum and dad wouldn't want me to cry for them anymore.

"My chest feels like it's caving in every time I take a breath. The corners of my eyes burn from trying to hold all the tears in and remain strong, and from the worst bloody waterproof mascara known to man." The sickly chuckle that parts my lips scares even myself, so I know for a fact that it must throw Harry off as well. "I just want to scream out to no one in particular so I can feel something, relief maybe."

Harry continues to stand silent beside me, listening to my ranting in real time. His head nods every once in awhile and his eyes remain trained on my face.

"Is it awful of me that it's not even been a week and I already want to just move on with my life? Does that make me a horrid daughter and sister? Does it make me an awful human being?"

I find myself not asking Harry, yet again, just letting my words float off into the drizzling rain and gusty breeze.

"Relief." My words are quiet, merely just so I can speak my mind aloud. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, I haven't decided yet, Harry hears my words.

"Excuse me?"

"Relief." I repeat, a tad louder than before. "I don't know why, but for some unknown reason this overwhelming feeling of relief just took over me today. I'm still very upset over today's events and this past week's tragedies; but, I suppose I feel relieved that they're finally laid to rest peacefully, which in a way puts me at peace."

My clouded vision scans the cemetery around us, my eyes stopped to a place just at the left of the shared tombstone. A miniscule smile finds my lips as I sigh heavily, walking over to the slightly damp, stone bench. Harry follows behind, taking a quiet seat beside me prior to me continuing on with my unwarranted speech.

"My parents always said if anything were to happen to them that they wanted to be buried together and underneath a tree with a bench."

"Why's that? The bench part, I understand the first part." Harry's words are slow and low in volume, perhaps so they don't disturb the dead around us.

"I suppose they just envisioned their children just sitting with them for a while every so often. Edward and I having a little picnic with them as they did with us in the summers. And then I believe they hoped we would bring our children, their grandchildren, to visit and the cycle would continue; so on and so on."

We both go silent for a while, sharing occasional glances at each other whilst the other looks away. There doesn't need to be words spoken between us, the silence speaks for us.

"I've never lost someone I've been close with," Harry begins, "so I'm not the correct person to be here, at your side."

You're exactly the person that should be here with me.

"You know, as a doctor you're taught to separate feelings from work, as they could potentially cloud your judgement. I've built up such a wall around people. I don't go out with friends as much as I used to; I don't go home to my family nearly as often as I should. I don't like showing too much emotion around others, I just feel like I can't, hence the wall."

"You seem connect with your emotions around me."

"You're different. I can't seem to put my finger on just why, but you are." In this moment of sorrow, I feel my cheeks turn a shade of light rose that I pray Harry cannot see. "It isn't a quick process breaking down the walls that you've built up for years. But for some reason you make it easy. You make it easy to want to connect with people, not many people, but a handful. And I like being friends with you, if I may add."

"You may." I say with a slight grin upon my lips.

My gaze on my hands is shifted upwards towards Harry's face. He's staring down at his own hands, clasping together and sitting on his knee. As my eyes take in the smoothness of his features, I take in the movement of his hand from the corner of my eye. Without a word spoken, his hand reaches over and grasps one of mine.

I suppress myself from doing or saying anything that I'll regret in the coming minutes or hours and take a look at our joined hands. HIs hand is much larger than mine, engulfing mine and holding tight. His skin is warm against the cool breeze. It feels nice.

"Maybe it's your strength." His voice causes me to jump slightly, having gotten comfortable in our silence again. "I've never met someone as strong as you; and I've meet a lot of people in my time." I find myself chuckling lightly and shaking my head.

"Stop." The rosy heat peppering my tear stained cheeks again.

"Alright. Alright. If you want my opinion, as your friend, you do have a right to want to move on." The smile disappears from my face and sorrow takes over my expression yet again. "You shouldn't have to put your life on hold because of tragedy. I may not have known your parents, but I certainly think they wouldn't want you to stop living for yourself.

"You'll always think of them, love them, visit them, so you won't completely be moving on." I sniffle lightly, using my free hand to dab the falling tears away.Harry has a way with words, at least in my mind. He's said a lot to me this past week that's helped me through everything.

"I just don't want to hurt anymore." I pout, my voice cracking as I try to stop the movement of tears. Harry shushes me and uses his free hand to move my head so that it rests comfortably on his shoulder, whilst his other hand squeezes mine firmly.

"There will always be pain, but you get to choose whether it hurts you or not."

"That's easier said than done."

"Never said that it would be easy." He replies with a hint of a smirk. I sniffle again, wiping the remaining tears away.

"Thought you said you never lost someone before, how come your advice is so good?" I wonder, lifting my head from his shoulder to look up at him. Harry feigned shock and his jaw drops at my question.

"Are you questioning my doctor's advice, Miss Chambers?" With a tiny laugh and a shake of my head, I lower my head back down onto the man's shoulder. My own hand squeezing his as if it'll simply disappear.

"My apologies, Dr. Styles."

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