And We Danced All Night (A Marcel fanfiction)

Marcel has kept it hidden that his brother is none other than *the* Harry Styles--not because he wants to (because he admires his brother with great respect for what he does), but because he doesn't want to live in his shadow. This, of course, comes with a price: He's not nearly as outgoing as his siblings are. When Samara Deanne comes to the top-level STEM school, where he attends, where will his shaky personality take him? Will she change him for the better?

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8. Chapter 8

"Marcel," Harry said in his signature 'I-just-woke-up' voice. "What do you want?"

"Harry, I screwed up. I screwed up so badly," I complained.

He groaned. "What did you do?"

I sighed. "I think Samara is onto me."

"And what's the issue?"

"Like I told you, Harry, I didn't want to tell her that you were my brother. I don't like the fact that I could possibly be living in your shadow--"

"And the problem is revealed!" Harry laughed. "I see what's going on," The phone rustled, like he was moving around. "I get it. I used to have that fear too. When Gemma was getting successful with her things, I always felt under pressure to do well. Even at my height of fame, I can still feel it. It'll get better. I see you doing a lot of great things in the science community,"

"But that doesn't really help me figure out what to do,"

"It does, though. Just tell her the truth. It's easier to just let it out and it turn out that you would be called 'the other styles' than to hide it and never know what would happen."

I chuckled. "Harry, if this whole singing career doesn't work out, you should be a counselor,"

He laughed. "Maybe that's what I'll do. But I'll never escape the lime light. You of all people know how that goes,"

The bell rang. "Hey, I've got to go. School starts in five minutes,"

"Alright, I'll talk to you later, Marcie,"

"Talk to you later," I hung up and left the bathroom, only to be met by Samara outside of the door.

"Hey," she greeted, handing me my breakfast. "You left this out in the car. I thought I'd just bring it to you,"

"Thanks," I replied. I took a sip of the slightly-warm frappe and sighed.

"You're welcome," As we walked to class, she asked, "What was all that about?"

I sighed. "It's nothing, really,"

"Are you sure?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I'll tell you later,"

"Okay,"

 

I sat in biology, guilty for what I had done. Samara kept giving me weird looks, and rightly so, because I was under so much pressure and guilt that I was becoming fidgety. Finally, after much argument with myself, I pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled out, "I lied to you." I passed it over and waited nervously for her response.

The paper came back. "About what?"

I huffed and replied, "Harry's my brother?"

When she read the note her eyes got wide. "What?" she whispered.

I pointed at the note. "You read that right," I whispered back.

She scribbled something on the note and slid it back to me. "Explain."

I told her everything. How Harry was my brother. How I had other siblings. How everything I said to her was sort of a lie, but not really. I explained the predicament I was in, especially with Harry being as famous as he was.

The bell rang, and Samara walked out with the note in her hand without a single word of goodbye. I supposed I deserved it, because of everything that I said.

I spent the rest of the day feeling the cold shoulder from her, which was no less than what I expected.

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