The room was full.

Too full.

Rows of black-clad figures blurred together, their quiet whispers and soft coughs echoing against the high ceiling. The air felt heavy—like it pressed down on your chest, making every breath harder than the last.

At the front of it all—

The casket.

“Hey…” Hughie’s voice was quiet, careful. “We can take this slow, yeah? I’ve got you.”

But your feet were already moving.

One step.

Then another.

Each one heavier than the last.

Hughie was beside you, his hand brushing yours, his presence steady, grounding—but even that couldn’t stop the pull. Like something inside you needed to see her, even if it broke you.

And it did.

The moment your eyes landed on your mum—

Still. Silent.

Gone.

Something inside you snapped.

A sharp, strangled sob tore out of you—loud, sudden, impossible to hide.

Heads turned instantly.

But you couldn’t stop.

“No—” You voice broke, louder now, shaking, “No, no, no—this isn’t—”

Your hands flew to your face as another sob ripped through you, your whole body trembling. The sound echoed in the quiet church, raw and exposed, cutting through the ceremony like a crack in glass.

People were staring.

You knew they were.

But it didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered except the fact that she was right there—and you couldn’t fix it.

“I want my mum!” You exclaimed, the words slipping out without control, your voice breaking so badly it barely sounded like you anymore.

Your knees weakened.

Before you could collapse, Hughie caught you—arms wrapping around you instantly, pulling you close, shielding you as best he could from the room, from the eyes, from everything.

“I’ve got you,” He said firmly, though his voice was soft near your ear. “I’ve got you. Let it out.”

You clung to him, sobbing openly now, no longer trying to be quiet, no longer able to hold anything back. Your cries filled the space, messy and real and heartbreaking.

A few people shifted uncomfortably. Others looked down. Some watched with soft, sad eyes.

But Hughie didn’t care about any of them.

He turned slightly, positioning himself between you and the crowd, one hand cradling the back of your head as he held you tighter.

“Hey… hey,” Hughie murmured, steady, grounding. “You don’t have to hold it together for anyone. Not today.”

Your fingers twisted into his jacket as another wave of grief hit, your breathing uneven, your chest aching like it might cave in.

“I can’t—” You cried, the words barely making it out.

Hughie swallowed, his grip tightening just a fraction. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know. I’m here.”

He didn’t try to quiet you.

Didn’t tell you to calm down.

He just stayed—letting you fall apart in his arms, even in front of everyone.