The Dead and Buried (Larry Stylinson AU)

Based off the book The Dead and Buried by Kim Harrington but in Larry form :) all rights go to Kim :)

Thanks for reading :)

Sorry for mistakes 

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*From the Journal of Zayn Malik*

I'm not stupid. I know half of them only worship me because they fear me. With popularity comes power and I could crush any of them with a simple text blast. Any day, at any moment, at my whim, I can change lives for the worse. I see it, sometimes. In their too-eager compliments. Forced laughs. A smile that ends a moment too soon to be genuine. It's not love, it's fear... I'd worry about retribution for the things I've done, but really, let's be honest. I'm at the top of the food chain, baby. I'm untouchable. What could any of them do to me?

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Louis POV:

Niall had a secret. I knew this from the way he was holding his lips tight, trying desperately not to smile. He was five years old, so it was probably a mildly mischievous prank, like he'd hidden Marie's keys again. But an unusual look in his eyes made me wonder if, this time, it was something more.

Whatever it was, he definitely didn't want dad or Marie to know. He didn't speak as Marie hovered around us in the kitchen, triple-checking that she'd put everything Niall could possibly need in his backpack. Dad swooped in and gave us both kisses on the tops of our heads.

"Have fun in kindergarten," he said ruffling Niall's hair a bit, but not too much since Marie had already slathered gel on it. Gel. On a five-year-old.

"Enjoy your first day of senior year, Louis" he said to me, and winked. He kissed Marie on the cheek, grabbed his laptop case and garment bag, and left. I could tell Marie was miffed that Dad was missing drop-off for Niall's first day of school. But he had a plane to catch. A plane that brought him to meetings that paid for things that Marie liked. So she kept her mouth stiff, but closed.

Niall stopped staring into space with that mysterious expression and turned his attention to his bowl of Coca Puffs, which he stirred vigorously. He refused to take a bite until the milk had magically turned into chocolate milk. He did this every morning. On an adult, it would be an annoying quirk. On Niall, it was cute.

My mother died when I was nine. Dad remarried two years later. And then, I was an only child for 12 years. Then I became a brother. During Marie's pregnancy, I was not looking forward to the addition to my new family. My life had been through enough turmoil. I sulked anytime they talked about the baby. I spent the baby shower locked in my room. Even though they knew the baby was a boy, I constantly referred to the bump in her stomach as "it".

 Then Niall was born. In the hospital, they sat me in a chair and carefully placed him in my arms. It was the first time I'd held a baby. I think my action figures weighed more than he did, He was wrapped up tight in this white hospital blanket, a blue hat on his little, bald head. His eyes were wet, glassy, and unfocused. But he stared right at me. Almost through me, in a way. And all the hatred, the anger, and my selfish, petulant feelings evaporated. They rushed out of me like air from an untied ballon. And filled back up with love.

 I was seventeen now. Next year, I'd be going off to college somewhere and Niall would have his turn to be an only child. He'd miss me, though. And I'd miss him. He was a cool little dude. His favorite color was green, because most boys pick blue and he liked being different. He loved to make up his own dance moves when I blasted my music. And SpongeBob made him laugh so hard he sometimes couldn't catch his breath.