One Direction Preferences/Imagines

You're Jealous of another Sibling (Part Two)

This is part 2 <3

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Harry:


Your mother had told him that you were upset, and he felt terrible about it; knowing that it was his fault. He knew that he messed up, and that he could have tried harder to make you feel wanted; he could have spoken to you more, or hung out with you, or maybe even done something as simple as telling you that he loved you, or that he had missed you the whole while he was gone.
But he hadn't.
He hadn't done any of those things; he hadn't even tried.
And now this was an opportunity to make things right between the two of you.
He knocks on your bedroom door, just once, before you give him a muffled cry, "Go away!"
But the words are much quieter than the yell you had anticipated, because your throat is sore from crying and your lips dried.
You hear Harry sigh, through the door, before you hear a click and the door swings open. You sniffle a little, into the pillow, before sitting up and wiping away your tears.
"I'm sorry, Y/N." He tells you, sitting next to you on the bed, as he gives his lame excuse of an apology.
"Do you really think that will make it all okay? Three little words?" You whisper, not daring to look at his face, in fear that he might catch the tears spilling down your cheeks, and that he would make himself feel worse about it.
"No. I know that I could sit here for hours trying to apologise, but there is nothing that I could say to you that would make what I did okay," He says quietly, bringing you into his arms, and hugging you close, "It wasn't right of me; to come home and ignore you like I did."
You don't reply to your older brother, because you know your voice will break, and he'd see your tear-stained cheeks and red nose.
"You're my sister, and I'm your brother, but I wasn't being a very good brother. And I'm sorry, for that."


Liam:


And you longed for that feeling; of freedom, happiness. But there wasn't much you could do about it, and although you were at an age of maturity, you were still too young to do half of the things you wanted, and too old for the other.
So, you decided that it would be best to lie; to do something to prove to Liam that you really were capable of taking care of yourself.
And it was a dumb decision; to have left home to come here - of all places. But you wanted to show Liam that you could take care of yourself, and that you didn't need him looking over your shoulder all the time.
You didn't want to be here, not even a tiny bit, and the lights were dim inside, and the cramped bar was loud. You had lied about your age to the bartender, and convinced him that you were, in fact, of drinking age.
Of course, you weren't. You were a child, really, and that burning reminder just wouldn't seem to leave your mind; even when you begged for it to.
After all, that was why you were here in the first place - to prove that you were mature enough to take care of yourself.
But, by lying - to the bartender, your family, and yourself - were you really showing the kind of maturity that you had hoped for?
You already knew the answer to the question, but before your mind came to acknowledge it, you downed the shot the bartender had poured for you, and became preoccupied - forgetting the things you no longer wanted to know of.
"What the hell are you doing?" His voice was rough, his face growing red with anger.
Liam.
You rolled your eyes, "I can take care of myself, Liam, and I don't need you looking over my shoulder."
"No, you can't." He growls, eyes darker as he takes your hand, pulling you out of the bar and to his car, left idling by the kerb, "And yes, you do; you're a child, Y/N."
You snorted, "I'm fine on my own; like Ruth and Nicola."
"Is that what this is about; Ruth and Nicola?"
You sigh.
"They're adults; I know that they can take care of themselves."
"I can too." You insist.
"I don't care. I'm your older brother and I'm meant to protect you," he tells you, "So get used to it."



Zayn:


You hated to do this to him, and ignore your bother, but it seemed that was all you had done lately.
Well, that, and lying through your teeth to your parents - telling them that you were fine; even when they found you crying in your room, late at night, when everyone else was asleep.
You only ignored him because, honestly, you didn't know what else to do. Your own brother didn't even want to talk to you; hang out with you - let alone know you.
At least, that was what you thought.
He'd noticed the way you became more reserved, and would bump shoulders with him once in a while when you crossed paths going down the hall, making the short journey to the kitchen, or maybe the laundry. You didn't speak to him much anymore; not even a simple, 'Hi', when he came home from wherever it was he had spent his time - most likely with Doniya, you thought, at the mall, or a concert.
You didn't know. And you didn't want to know.
"What's up with you?" He'd asked, in that carefree, even tone he always seemed to speak in.
You shrugged, ignoring him once again - as you always did - and continued to stare blankly at the television, faking interest in the infomercial playing.
He sighed, clicking off the television, and turning to look at you. "Seriously though, what's wrong?"
He sighs once again, when you choose to ignore him for a second time.
"You know you can tell me anything, right?"
"Can I, Zayn?" You challenge, turning to look at him, angrily, "Because all you seem to care about is Doniya!"
"Y/N, I'm sorry if you feel like I don't care about you." He tells you.
"I know you don't care about me." You mutter, softly, under your breath.
"I do though; I really do care about you, Y/N." he promises, dipping his chin a little to look in your eyes, placing his hands on your shoulders to force you to look at him, "You're my little sister, and I love you, - and Safaa and Waliyha -, but I love Doniya too, and she is my sister as well."
You nod, into his chest as he pulls you into his embrace. Maybe you were being a little dramatic.
"And I'm sorry that I made you feel like I don't care about you; I didn't mean to. I love you, and I care about you - just like how I care about Doniya, and Waliyha, and Safaa. I care about all of you."



Louis:


Your mother was used to conflicts among her children; little arguments that didn't mean a thing, the rare insult thrown towards one, innocent teasing and hair-pulling that wasn't intended to hurt, and the occasional tears that fell down the younger one's cheeks.
After all, she had seven children, and even the eldest, Louis, often acted like a child and found himself refusing to abandon the childish things that he had been told to.
And, now was one of those times, when a dispute had taken place, and insults were thrown about and feelings were hurt, and tears fell down your cheeks as you struggled to stop them from flowing.
And you hated it; crying.
"Y/N." he says, softly from the doorway that led into the kitchen, where you stood in your mother's kind embrace as you sobbed uncontrollably.
Your mother smiles politely to her son, as she leaves the room - leaving only the two of you in the kitchen, to right the things that went wrong.
"I didn't mean to-" He starts, genuinely, but you aren't having a word of it.
"Don't, Louis." You mutter, wiping away your tears with the sleeve of your sweater, "Just don't."
"Y/N, I-"
"What, Louis? Love me? Care about me? Are sorry?" You challenge, glaring at the older boy, "Don't waste your breath on things you don't mean."
Louis sighs; you were always difficult when you were upset, or angry. But Louis felt terrible, for making you feel the way you did, and making you cry, and so he was determined to make things right between the two of you.
And he wasn't going to give up until he had made you know how much he was sorry, and how much he hated that he had upset you.



Niall:


There was something admirable about the way that he was so forgiving towards Greg, something that made you long for the same relationship with your brother, Niall.
But you thought - knew - that your brother wasn't going to start acting any differently to you, just because you were a little jealous of Greg; just because of the looks you threw him across the dinner table, and the way you rolled your eyes when he and Niall got along.
And you felt horrible for feeling that way; for hating your own brothers because they got along with each other.
You cried yourself to sleep most nights, because you didn't know what else to do; you didn't know how to make things okay between you and your brother.
And it was on one of these nights, when a sense of peace came over the world as everyone else slept, and the sobs passed through your body, that Niall found out about it.
He had been walking down the hallway, to make the short trip from the bathroom back to his bedroom, where he could lie back down and fall asleep once more, when he heard it - the quiet sobs that left your lips, and passed through the walls.
He could have kept walking, and he had considered it - for he was too tired to think rationally - but then he realised that ignoring his younger sister's cries would only make him a worse brother, and you a bit sadder.
So he had knocked on your door, gently and only once, before entering the dark room and whispering your name, softly.
"Y/N?"
Your sobs cut off, and you tried desperately to make it seem as if you were sleeping; as if he had imagined the cries that had left your lips and slipped beneath the door, out into the hall.
But he knew that you were awake, as the deathly silence filled the room, because he was sure of what he had heard, and he had seen you sitting up in your bed - from the light that seeped into the room from the hallway - with your hands by your face as you wept.
He sighs, and contemplates leaving the room, again thinking of the warm bed that awaited him down the hall - his bed - and the peaceful bliss of a good nights' rest.
And, once more, he found himself questioning his brotherly affection, and the way he treated you, before deciding against leaving.
"I know you're awake, Y/N." he tells you, sinking onto your bed as he sits beside you, gently pulling the bed covers away from your face, "What's wrong?"
You sit up, trying to keep your tears hidden from him as you wipe them away, but he stops you - gripping your wrist gently as you reached up, shakily, to wipe the tears from your eyes.
"Did I do this?" He asks quietly, choking on the words as they left his mouth, disgusted with himself.
How could he treat his sister - his baby sister - so poorly? How could he let her hurt? How dare he?
He suspires, and pulls you into a brotherly hug - not one of those awkward manly ones that he and Greg always shared, but a real one.
"I'm sorry," he whispers into your hair, "I'm so sorry."


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Love Lou x