Louis Tomlinson
Year 2023, Month December
North Dakota
~~


Of all days to have a funeral, it has to rain on this one, my mind complained as I walked out of my mansion and towards my convertible. The rain pellets were harshly pressing to my skin and my slicked-up hair, making me growl furiously and wipe the sleeves of my suit off, getting rid of the water.

As I started my car, the grey clouds above me began to roll out and I knew by then that it wasn’t going to stop raining any time soon. I’ve heard that it always rains on depressing days like this, but I always thought that those rumors were myths.

I’ve never really been to any funerals, and I didn’t expect this one to even happen. I pulled down the driveway and tightened my hands on the steering wheel, my stomach becoming a pit full of butterflies―painful, nervous butterflies. I hardly ever get butterflies, but when I do, they’re fucking virulent.

I hate feeling this way; I hate feeling this guilt. Even though I feel it every single day of my goddamned life, today… it’s worse than it ever has been. It’s eating me alive… and there isn’t a single thing I can do about it.

I felt a nervous lump growing in my throat, and I swallowed hard, ridding of it and tightening my eyes closed as I drove down the highway. Maybe I’ll drive off of the road and crash. Fucking seriously, I am killing myself softly by constantly thinking about Parson, and this shit has to happen? It was an accident! Or at least I wish it was…

I wasn’t scared when my car met the side of the road and I slammed on the breaks, making it flip and I rolled my eyes when it landed on it’s wheels. When the airbag didn’t pop out, I slammed my hands on the wheel until it blew out, hitting my face and making me sink in my seat. Fuck. I buried my face in my hands and felt tears running down from my eyes. I felt like such a fucking tit, but I couldn’t hold any of it in anymore.

Not anymore, she told you not to cry for her.

I let out a curdling growl and fisted my hand, punching my door window. My chest began to pulse rapidly from where the bullet from Harry's gun punctured it, and I clutched it tightly before becoming angry again.

“Goddammit!” I screamed, stepping out of my car and standing right in the rain. Jesus, Parson. Why did you have to do this to me? Why did I have to do… I felt more pathetic tears running down my cheeks and I was hoping that it was the rain… but obviously it wasn’t. Fucking Harry. All of this shit would’ve never happened if he didn’t make her fall in love with him! Everything would have been completely fine! She would have came home with me, and she would’ve married me instead! Although… she chose to fucking stay with him, and I…

I got back into my car, put it in gear, and sped to the funeral that I wasn’t even supposed to be attending to. It had taken two months to prepare this funeral, and once Celia found out what happened, she didn’t even want me to come because she thought I wasn’t worthy of showing up. Well too fucking bad, bitch, I’m coming to this funeral whether you like it or not.

My car engine shut off when I turned the keys and I looked out at the graveyard, more than one hundred graves dug into the ground because of all of the people that had been killed by Jared or killed by one of his men. This graveyard was called Francesca’s Deceased, and none of us have bothered to show up to a single funeral that we have caused, but now we’re showing up to this one.

The rain had died down the further I got towards the end of the clouds, and I stepped out of my car, looking out over towards the people that were huddled in a large circle and they were all wearing black. I knew they were just men and women that Celia had hired just so that she wouldn't be alone at the funeral. They were all acting like fucking peasants and depressed people―they were all crying and wishing for the dead around them to make it to heaven and feel better. Like, how the fuck are they going to feel better? They’re dead!

I waited a few minutes until I walked over to where the people were standing, trying to walk slow so I wouldn’t get there too fast. I didn’t want to see them; I didn’t want to see any of them. They were all going to hate me after they found out what I did, even Ed was going to hate me and I can’t have that happening. Ed… is like a brother to me, even though we were never really friends.

“Let us pray,” I heard the preacher say as I stood at least two hundred feet away from the crowd, hoping that they wouldn’t see me or hear me as they prayed and cried.

I stepped behind the tombstone they were crying in front of and placed my hands behind my back, waiting for them to be finished. Sure, they could mourn and everything like that, but I have time on my hands. I have to do my own mourning, and that’s not what I’m looking forward to, even though I knew that it’s going to happen no matter what I choose.

As the people began to scatter and walk away from the grave, I straightened up when I saw Ed hugging Celia and telling her it was going to be okay. “Louis?” Ed gasped and Celia sniffed and looked over at me. I tried to smile, but it ended up failing and turning into a forced one.

“How could you be smiling at a time like this?” she asked me, her accent pouring out with sadness. “What the hell are you even doing here, Louis?” she faced me and I looked down at the tombstone, unable to say a single word. “You can’t tell me that you were here to say something about the death, because I know that you’re not going to.”

“You don’t know me, Celia,” I snapped at her and more tears fell from her eyes.

“I know you enough to know that you should rot in hell,” she snapped right back at me and motioned for Ed to walk away with her. She has no right to say that I should rot in hell because she’s the one who married Jared but slept her way to the top with Ed! If she hasn’t forgotten, because none of us have forgotten that at all! Especially Ed!

I went to say something to her, but I bit my tongue and shook my head, stepping away from the tombstone and walking around towards it.

They already buried the casket, so this was just the viewing; meaning I missed the actual funeral. Dammit. I guess that’s okay, because now I can sit here and carry on a conversation without anyone looking at me like I’m fucking retarded, because God knows I have got a lot to say.

I shoved my hands into my suit pockets after pushing my hair up and wiping the water from the rain off of my face. I couldn’t open my eyes to look at the grave, because I knew that as soon as my eyes met the name, I would start crying like a baby again. Like a fucking tit.

So I opened my eyes and looked at the tombstone. It read,


Here lies the body of
Parson Kayann Upton Styles
Date of Birth: February 4, 2003.
Date of death: October 16, 2023.
“Was a beautiful work of art.”


“Oh God,” I muttered at that last part, bringing my hands to my face and shaking my head multiple times, “No, no, no. I love you, Parson. I love you so fucking much. You meant the whole goddamned world to me and I killed so many men just to get through to you. I killed Jared, I killed Zayn, I killed Harry… and… fuck. I did nothing to deserve the loss of you, I didn’t do anything. I loved you with all that I had and you married Styles. You… married Styles.”

I then became angry, furious that the love of my life forced me to kill so many people. I did it consciously for me and consciously for her at the same damned time. I showed her that I would kill for her, and all she did to fall for Harry was fucking look at him and fall for his enticing fucking charm. Bullshit! I deserved her! Not fucking Harry Styles! He was the whole nightmare, and I was nothing but sweet on her!

I really loved her, for whereas Harry just used her for his own guilty pleasure like I told her he was going to do, but no… No one listens to Louis anymore… not even Parson listened to me.

Everything turned to shit when she got shot with that bullet, and I saved her goddamn life. Why did she have to reject me and go to Harry? Why? She told me that Harry was her fairytale, even though she specifically told me she didn't want one… so fucking why?

“Why did you do this to me, princess?” I asked her, my chin trembling with anger and sadness. I hated crying like this. I hated missing someone who will never come back. I hated missing Parson like I hated Harry. I hated Harry with every fucking fiber of my being, and missing Parson feels like the same hatred. “I still love you,” I whispered.

She was a beautiful work of art. Maybe it was fate that she was supposed to be with Harry, and not me. Maybe she was actually supposed to be with the devil instead of her guardian angel… because she’s probably in a worse hell now with her lover than she ever was here with me. After all, she should be happy, because she is with her lover.

They’re both dead and gone, so they’re together.

Get this, she sacrificed her life when I threatened to kill her husband, but she watched me put a bullet in his head anyways right after I shot her below her left collarbone.

I smiled angrily before pulling the large magnolia that was left in my pocket out and setting it on the edge of her grey tombstone, patting the top of it before stepping back and walking away.

Now they are dead, because of me - because I killed them both. And because this is a sinister world and you have to kill to live. So guess what, Mrs. Princess Styles? You have your fairytale ending after all.

Happy fucking ever after, Parson. You deserved it.

Notes

THE END.