4 Way Heart

It hasn't always been easy for me, but when Harry became famous it was worse. I couldn't make friends, people started to hate me just because of my brother, and it was lucky that I even got spoken to by one person. I had no one. Dad kicked Harry out for getting into, the now famous, band without his knowledge and after that we lost contact with each other. Before Harry got chucked out there of course was one person who acknowledged me but it was complicated. In the end he broke my heart, and now I have to live with the bad memories, and wonder if my brother even remembers me anymore. *Please Note: Some details are not real, as in Harry's relatives and stuff like that, and I have changed them from real life for my storys purpose.* Fantastic cover made by mybestfriendisapenguin_xX, thank you!*


2. London Streets


I cried for hours, dad didn't come to check on me, nor did I want him to. I thought that if he had he would have just given me more bad thoughts about Harry. It's not like I hate him, and I don't mind that he joined a band, but I just wish that he hadn't become famous, and that he was still here at home with me.

I think dad is a bit harsh towards him, and to be honest I don't see why he would chuck his own son out. I know Harry went behind his back, joining the band without his knowledge but it wasn't until dad realised this all did he start to disagree with it. When the band started to become more and more famous dad got angrier and angrier and after an unfortunate event (including me), which I don't want to remember, it was the last straw. Harry was chucked out, and I was on my own.

I've got to admit I miss him, that's probably why it effected me so much to hear his voice, but I also hate that he didn't stay in contact with me, that he didn't even try. I know he said he was sorry, but I can't except it. It's been two years, two years that he hasn't talked to me, hasn't see me and suddenly he calls out of nowhere, and says he's sorry. I know he's my brother, I know he should still care, but I can't help thinking that he doesn't. He left me alone. Who would do that if they cared?

But he did. He left me. I suppose it wasn't his fault, he got chucked out but he still could have called me then, he still could have texted me then, but he didn't.

He's called me now though. At least he's called me now. I suppose that's a good thing, and I can't help feeling a little happy about that. But still I can't totally forgive, just not yet. It's too hard for me, I still don't believe he cares and that he's sorry. I need time to think, I need time to forgive him, so he'll just have to wait until I do.

I decided to go out and get some fresh air. Maybe it would make me feel better, maybe it would help me feel forgiveness, I didn't know, I just needed to get out and have a walk. I pulled on my dark blue pumps, leaving the house. Dad wouldn't notice, and he probably wouldn't worry that much if he did. I'm old enough to go out of the house on my own, he doesn't need to control me like he used to, I'm 17 now (going on 18).

I sped down the path, the wind hitting me in the face, sending a waft of car exhaust and general dirtiness up my nose. I hated living in London, we were just on the outskirts but it was still as cramped, polluted and not very nice as it was near the centre of it all. When I was younger dad never wanted to ever let me out in fear that they'd be murderers and drugs dealers waiting to draw me in to their traps. I don't think he cares as much now, but I care about myself, and make sure I don't stay out too long and stick to the main roads where people are all around. I do get scared when I go out but I try not to think of it, and as long as I go back home before it's darks it's fine.

I joined the hustling, bustling crowds pushing from all directions, getting pushed in the general direction of the crowd. This was what I meant by walk, and maybe it isn't so calming but I don't know why it has a sort of appeal for me being round lots of rushing people. I have no idea why, and sometimes I get annoyed about people pushing me, but generally I find it okay.

I sometime think that I'd feel safer walking around here if a had a good friend with me, but I don't have friends, Harry saw to that. I guess it wasn't his fault that people didn't want to be my friends, but when he started getting famous people started to hate me fro some reason just for being his brother. I never told him about the occasional bullying that I received from a couple of girls at school, he'd only worry.

Now it's okay though because I finished my first year of six form, and now it's the summer holidays so I don't have to see those horrible people again until I go back for the second year. I guess I don't have to go back. I could just try and get a job, I'm keeping a look out, but to be honest I don't have a clue what I want to do with my life, and now a days people don't get the jobs they want anyway. I didn't exactly get the best grades either in GCSE so that won't exactly look good to any high ranking job places. I have time though, well that's what I think anyway. I have time to decide what to do, and get a good job. Dad hasn't mentioned anything about chucking me out, and telling me to live on my own yet so that's all fine.

"Sorry" I mumbled quickly as I walked straight into someone, not actually realising they were heading right in my direction, coming at me. The young man stepped back, looking down at me from out below his hood. I blinked at him. 

It was him. It was Harry.

"Oh my god" he said, and he pulled me over to the side of the path because we were getting in the way. He looked nervous, and kept checking over his shoulder, pulling at his hood, making his face further in shadows.

I couldn't talk, I was trembling as I looked at him in disbelief. This was so coincidental. He'd decided to call today, and suddenly I bump into him when I'm out. 

He stared back at me before grinning widely and saying "you look so grown up."

I didn't say anything, still staring, actually fearing that I had completely lost my voice. I told myself to say something, but I couldn't. He checked behind him again, muttering something along the lines of "I've lost them."

Suddenly I snapped out of my disbelief trance and asked him, my voice shaking "a-aren't you meant to have body guards or something?"

He looked round again and mumbled in reply sounding dismissive "er, yeah, I ditched them though."

"You should go back to them," I snapped, feeling bitter.

He looked back to me, looking awkward and saying "I just lost some fan girls a while ago, I can do it perfectly fine on my own."

"But what if someone recognises you right now. What are you supposed to do? More to the point, what am I supposed to do?" I muttered angrily to him, balling my hands into fists in my pockets. Just talking to him in person was getting me annoyed again, then I remembered what I'd told myself earlier. I should try and forgive him.

He gave he a look, and I sighed, trying to smile at least, but I couldn't. He cleared his throat and asked "you okay then?"

I nodded, really feeling like yelling at him "no I am bloody well not alright." But I stopped myself from it, biting my tongue to stop myself doing something stupid, before asking him "how are you?"

"Er, fine, yeah, I'm good" he answered, his voice stuttering about slightly like he didn't exactly know how to answer.

I nodded to his reply, and then stood up a little straighter saying "anyway, what are you doing here Harry?" I didn't mean for it to sound so angry, it just came out like that. I attempted a smile, but I think he may have got that it was a little forced.

Harry smiled back, properly though, and said with a hint of laughter in his voice "I live here, got a flat near by."

I stared at him, my voice quiet as I said "you live here?"

He nodded. "Me and the boys do. At the moment anyway. Moved there about two months ago."

I nodded, guessing by 'boys' he meant the other boys in the band, his friends I suppose you would call them. I was annoyed that he was living here in the same city as me, and still he hadn't come to visit, hadn't called, hadn't done anything.

"Why didn't you come and see me?" I asked softly, and I could hear the hurt in my own voice.

He looked guilty and sad as he replied "well I'm not exactly welcome there, and" he stopped giving me a sigh before continuing "I thought you hated me. I thought you wouldn't want to see me."

"I did" I snapped back, feeling anger flare up again. "I did want to see you. I needed you Harry, but you left me all alone when I needed you most."

"Please Annie, I'm sorry. I... I just made a mistake about what you thought, that's all" he murmured and his face truly did look sorry. I hated seeming him sad, and over the years I hadn't been with him his sad eyes still worked on me. I calmed down, mimicking his soft, sad expression and now feeling like I was going to break down crying.

"I know I should of been there for you. I know you went through something hard that you shouldn't have had to, but I never forgot that Annie, I always cared. It's just dad made me think that you hated me too, and well..." He looked down at the ground guiltily. "I let him make me think that you disapproved of me to."

"I don't disapprove" I told him, and a tear slipped to the corner of my eye. I brushed it away hastily, biting the inside of my mouth. I didn't want to start crying again.

"I wanted to help you get through it, but I couldn't. He chucked me out, there was nothing I could do."

"You could have called me, you could have texted me. You didn't need to be with me to help me out. It would have helped a bit." I yelled at him, but it was barley distinguishable over the city noise. I quietened myself again, muttering "you could have showed that you cared."

He didn't reply, looking like he was deciding what to say. Soon he opened his mouth but he was interrupted my loud shrieks, which made him spin around at the noise. I looked over his shoulder as he turned, seeing a crowd of screaming girls, flashing cameras and waving signs which read phrases like 'Love you Harry', 'marry me Harry' and other fan girl phrases. He looked panic stricken as he backed away from them as they approached screaming "Harry, Harry, Harry!"

"What are we supposed to do?" I demanded to know of him, but all he did was shuffle back more.

"I need to hide" he told me desperately, and he actually looked scared as the girls started charging towards us.

I took one look at their screaming faces, then at his panicked face, and before I could tell myself not to I had grabbed his hand and was running, pulling him along with me. "Where are we going?" he asked desperately as he quickly followed in my wake.

"Just hurry!" I snapped at him, too focused on trying not to bump into too many people, and going as fast as I could to reply properly.

He didn't need telling twice, and was soon running faster (he always could run faster than me) than I could, and I kept having to shout him directions as instead he pulled me along, as I was unable to keep up with him.

I could still hear screaming fan girls from behind, but didn't dare to check whether they were following us closely. "You should have stayed with your body guards" I cried angrily, although it came out as more of a groan because I was running so fast, and my breaths were becoming all fast and uneven.

He didn't reply, focused on running forward. "Left" I quickly told him, tugging his hand so he was heading in the right direction. We were finally getting nearer to the house, and further away from the noise and denser part of the city.

Suddenly Harry stopped and I ran right into him. "I can't go to the house. Dad will kill me."

"You have to. There's nowhere else. Do you want them to get you?" I told him sternly but breathlessly, my breathing heavy and loud.

He shook his head, and then took off again, pulling me with him. It felt unreal to see him again, to feel his hand in mine and as I ran I looked at him, his hood falling down so his curls started bouncing. I couldn't help smiling to myself. He hadn't changed really, he just looked a bit older, and well obviously he was famous, but he was still Harry. He was still my brother.


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