As I was staring at his grave I couldn't help but think about all the wonderful times. At the time, we were really in love. We were that one couple you hate because they look too cute together. But that was when we were actually together, and not several hundred miles apart. He loved what he did, and so did I. But both he and I weren't made for a distance relationship. He was busy all the time, the news papers spread rumors about us and I was alone in a strange city. I never regretted moving to London, not one bit. I wanted to study at UNI there, and being slightly alone was the price for that. So when I met him I couldn't believe my luck. A mutual friend introduced us and somehow he tolerated me. No one ever did. I fell fast and hard, sometimes I liked to believe he did too. That he didn't grow to love me, only that he grew to love me more. Somewhere along the road we slipped apart. And before either of us new it we split. To be completely honest, I don't even remember why anymore.

The funereal was last week. I couldn't make myself go but I watched it on TV. Hundreds of people showed up, all of them crying. They filmed the boys a lot, showing the world that the boy band really were brothers. His mother looked pale and thin, like she hadn't eaten in a long time. But what hurt the most was to see all of the fans that were there. Even though he wasn't grateful towards them in the end, they still showed up. None of them screaming or fangirling. Ever single girl and boy in that crowd were silently crying, holding on to each other for support. I cried for days after seeing that. Although I had cried for weeks after his death.

So now I was standing by his grave. His name gingerly written with cursive letter, his date of birth and death scribbled down like they were important to who he was. Around the grave there was flowers, bouquets surrounding the stone, making sure the stone was visible. I noticed one of the bouquets covering a little writing on the stone, moving them aside with caution I read the words written underneath it. 'Loved brother, son and friend' Choking back a loud sob I fell to my knees and held my heart. It was beating so hard I was positive it was going to jump out of my chest. I rocked my body forward and backward several times, trying to get rid of this hopeless feeling. My heart was telling me I couldn't survive this.

"He never stopped caring about you." The sudden voice made me shot my head up to look at the person who had spoken. Above me stood Louis Tomlinson. One of the greatest friends he had ever had. It made more years come to my eyes as I thought about his words. I kept on shaking my head, hoping deep down that this was all a dream.

"He should've told me." My voice was only a whisper but Lou heard me. He mumbled a 'I know' and placed a hand on my shoulder. "I had the right to know." I felt a sudden serge of anger and I was angry at him for not telling me. He should've.
"We all wanted to, but he didn't want you to worry." Feeling angry at the person standing next to me I shot up and stared at him with hatred.

"So it was better that I got a phone call, saying the love of my life was dead?!" I was shouting at Louis, but I didn't care. I was mad, I wanted to be there for him in the end. I wanted to help him however I could. As if he read my mind Lou spoke.

"You helped in more ways than one. He... He wanted you to know how grateful he was for you. How you made him feel so much bigger than he was, how he loved you. He loved you so much." Louis choked back tears, although one escaped and slipped down his cheek.

"I'm sorry." I took a deep breath and the years kept on flowing. "I just miss him." I hung my head and Lou parted my back. Without another word he turned around and walked away. His footsteps disappeared into the parking lot and I was once again alone.
"I love you so much it hurts Harry."

Reading the simple letter on his tombstone once more I sighed and placed my flower on top of it. As I turned around and walked away I hopes I was going to live. I knew he wanted that.