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?


2. Chapter 2


Chapter 2:

The next week passed slowly (at no surprise). Of course, Mum and I went shopping for some new clothes, but I wouldn't pick out anything anyone considered “trendy.” I naturally went for the nicer things, vests, slacks, and a nice tie. Mum would argue that I needed something besides “work-type-of-clothes,” but I told her plainly that I liked what I was picking out.

“At least I'm not doing drugs, Mum,” I rolled my eyes.

“Maybe you should be,” she shrugged. “It'd be better than this,”

I laughed. “What's that suppose to mean?”

She sighed. “Marcel, sweetie, you have absolutely no friends,” I pouted as she continued. “You're so much unlike your siblings, it's not even funny,”

“I'm sorry,” I said, turning to a rack of dress pants. She was right, I had to admit. My friend base as compared to anything else was severely lacking.

She continued. “You know that I love you dearly. But, I feel like a change in appearance might be better for you. Just as an experiment,”

“As much as I love experiments,” I started, with a light laugh. “I can't say that I like this one. My fashion is the one thing I have control over, and you know just as much as I do that everything else is so uncertain. I just like to keep clean-”

“Like your room, and your bed, and your bathroom-”

“Shut up!” I laughed. “I'm working on it. Harry said so himself, all of those problems will eventually go away,”

She laughed softly and picked up an immaculate white button-up shirt. “Do you like this one?”

“Of course,” I said, reaching out to grab it. “Can you also pick me up a different color? I would really like to spice up my wardrobe a bit,”

She laughed. “of course, whatever you want.”

I smiled and continued to look around for more clothes. She handed me a list of supplies I would need and some money and told me to go look for them. I nodded and left the store, heading over to another store that was comprised of office supplies. That should be a good place to start.



I woke up the first day of school ready to go back to sleep. I would admit to staying up until two AM studying for no reason, but my pride was a little in the way of that admission. I sat upright in bed for twenty minutes before realizing that I'd gotten up late and needed to hurry.

I threw on a graphic tee and some jeans and looked at myself in th mirror. I shook my head. That wasn't right at all. Next I put on my usual attire: a dress shirt, the vest to go over it, a tie, and dress pants (for extra affect, I put a fake watch on a chain in my pocket). That felt right. I looked myself in th mirror and sighed. Perfect. I put my dress shoes on and went down the stairs.

Mum was standing next to the stove, cooking up some breakfast for me. I sat down just as she brought a plate of pancakes and a bottle of syrup over to me.

“Thanks, Mum,” I said as I picked up my fork.

“You're welcome, sweetie,” she smiled, sitting down beside me to eat her food. After a few moments, she said, “Do you have everything you need, Marcel?”

“Yes, Mum,”

“Are you sure-”

Yes, Mum,” I repeated. “I have everything I need for school. Don't worry so much. I'll be fine, I promise,”

She smiled. “I'm just making sure. I want to send you off on the right foot,”

“I'd rather walk out on my left,” I mumbled.

She snorted, covering her mouth. “You've really got to stop doing that,”

I chuckled. “You know, they say laughter's the best medicine,”

“This is gonna kill me,” she giggled.

I laughed, standing up. “I guys I'll be off then. I'll see you after school,”

She smiled. “See you then, Marcel,”

I walked up the road to the bus stop, where I saw a few kids from my class standing around, talking idly. I walked up to a girl named Patricia, who was texting someone on her phone. Rolling my eyes, I looked back and forth, looking out for the bus. Many of the kids weren't going to my school, but we all had to use the same bus system. Naturally, the driver went to the public school first, because their school started before mine did. That gave me time to catch up on any needed sleep, and to not talk to anyone.

I really needed to find some friends.



When I got to school, I pulled out my schedule and searched the halls for my first class: Honors Statistics. I sighed. The level of hatred I had for anything statistics was at a top notch level.

My phone buzzed. I pulled it out to find a text from Harry: “Have a great first day of school, Marcel. The lads say that they wish they were there. LOL!”

I smiled and sent back: “LOL tell them they don't. My first class is Statistics. BORE!”


The first four classes went by with nothing exciting happening. We started to dissect a frog in Anatomy (why on the first day?) and a girl puked (I think she signed up for the wrong class). A guy in Astronomy started to ramble about the process of alcohol to intoxicate a person (wrong class, again), which put me to sleep.

So when I walked into Biology, I was still a bit tired. As I was taking a deep breath, ready for a good yawn, I bumped into someone. Dazed, I looked up to find a girl who looked like the most beautiful girl in the world. Dammit, I thought to myself. She had a shocked look on her face, like she was the one that bumped into me (which, in reality, was the complete opposite).

“Oh, wow, um,” she stammered. “I..I'm so sorry about that,”

I blinked. “No, uh, it's my fault. I should have been watching where I was going,” I bent down and started to pick up her books. She knelt down and reached across her pile and started to pick up mine.

“Oh, you really don't have to do that,” I said, sitting up to hand her her books.

“Likewise,” she answered, handing me mine. “I'm Samara, by the way,”

“Marcel,” I answered.

She smiled. “That's a unique name,”

“Likewise,” I answered. I gave her books back to her and smiled. She smiled back and nodded over to an empty table. I knew what she was thinking, but I wasn't sure about it.

“We should sit down,” she started. “Do you, perhaps, want to share a table?”

“Uh-sure,” I followed her to the empty table and say down. My hands shook as I sat waiting for the teacher to come in. What was taking them so long? I was getting anxious! This girl sitting beside me what making a nervous wreck out of me—even more that usual.

“Are you...okay, Marcel?” Samara asked, nudging me with her elbow. “You seem restless,”

“W-who me?” I stammered. “Restless, O-oh, never,” I bluffed. I looked away and took a deep breath. Oh, God, what was I getting myself into?

She laughed. “Are you nervous?”

“Not really,” Don't lie, you're absolutely nervous.

She poked my shoulder. “I don't see why you're so nervous, Marcel. You've been here before, right?” I nodded. “I've never been here before,”

That caught my attention. I sat up straight. “So, you're saying that you're new here?”

She nodded, giving me a wide smile. Wow, she's pretty, I thought to myself. “I'm on our local foreign exchange program from Hawaii,”

“I wondered why your name sounded so unique,” I pointed out.

She smiled. “My name is actually pretty common, really. I've never head of the name Marcel, before, though,”

I smiled, pushing my glasses onto my nose. “It's pretty unique,”

“Yeah,” she looked at me for a second before adding, “So what's to know about Marcel? Maybe a last name is a good place to start,”

“Styles,” I blurted out quickly. Great, now it's out there.

“A middle name?”


“Marcel Eugene Styles,” she said. “I like that. It seems quite fitting,”

“Thanks,” I took a deep breath. “What about you? Any siblings?”

She shook her head. “I'm an only child. What about you?”

“I have an older sister named Gemma,” I answered.

“Any brothers?”

Oh God. What was I going to say? “Not really,”

“Not really? You seemed confused.”

“I really don't have any brothers,”

She smiled. “Okay.”

The teacher eventually came in and settled the class down. Time went on without a word from Samara (because she was listening intently to everything he had to say). I tried to watch her, to learn all of her little details. I noticed that she had this concentrated look whenever the teacher said something important, and her eyes scrunched up, like held in laughter, when something funny had been said.

I guess I'd been staring a while, because I barely noticed when she whispered to me, “What are you staring at?”

I blinked. “O-oh, nothing,” I stuttered, turning my head back to my notes. Dammit, Marcel, I criticized myself. She nudged me with her elbow. I looked up and saw her smile before turning back to the teacher. Wow, she's really dedicated to this, I thought to myself.

Within minutes the bell rang, and students shuffled out of the class in lightening speed, leaving me and Samara in our seats.

“They like to get out fast,” she noted.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “I've never seen any class empty this quickly,” I stood up and gathered my things. “Maybe we'll have another class together. What's your schedule look like?” She handed her schedule over to me and I scanned it for something that we had in common. As I looked down the page, I frowned. Absolutely nothing. “It looks like we don't have anymore classes together,” I pouted.

“Hey, maybe I could get your number, and we can meet up at lunch. What time do you have it?”

“At 11:35,” I answered.

“Sweet, that's mine too,” She gave me her phone. “Put your number in there, and give me your phone,”

I handed it over. I typed my number into her phone. I know that girls like cute little names as their contacts, but I wasn't sure what to put myself as. An idea popped into my head. I quickly typed it into her phone and handed it back.

She laughed. “MESS?”

“Y-yeah,” I stammered. “Marcel Eugene Styles. I added the extra 's' on the end to spell the word correctly,”

She laughed again. “I just put 'SamSam' into your phone. You're a lot more innovative than I am,”

I smiled. “I guess I'll see you at lunch, then. We're gonna be late for class if we keep chatting like this,”

She stood up quickly. “You're right. I'll see you then,”

I watched as she left. I knew that we would be friends. The sinking feeling settled in that I might want more.

But how would I know how she felt about me?

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