He had grown his hair so long. It was straight, dirty blonde--almost brown--and hung halfway down his back, usually bound in a ponytail at the base of his skull. He took up the drums that year, and people associated his long hair with rock music. The Beatles in the later years, Zeppelin, Aerosmith. And all those southern rock bands with a hippie edge.
But that wasn't it.
That wasn't why.
It wasn't about music.
"Matt," I called, walking through the house. He was usually playing video games or the drums at this time of day. But he wasn't in the family room, and I hadn't heard the drums on my way in. I walked back to the bedrooms. His room was empty. My door was closed. I pushed the door open, "Matt?"
He spun around, horror stretching his face into a disturbing expression, one that would have been comical if I didn't know how much he had suffered. How much he still suffered. And then I took in his appearance. And I wanted to laugh. But I didn't.
"I'm just fucking around," he said, his voice deeper than usual.
I nodded. I'm sure my eyes were the widest they have ever been.
My big brother stood before me, his hair down around his shoulders in loose curls, his features outlined by a smattering of poorly applied makeup, his feet crammed into a pair of my shoes. And wearing my dress. My dress for that year's cast party. It was way too short for him, his long, hairy legs too exposed. And way too small up top, where his ribcage widened, the edges of the zipper pulled beyond their limit, tearing at the seams. I didn't know what to say. What to do.
"Get out," he said. I didn't move. He raised his fist at me, and I flinched. "Get the fuck out." I did.
I should have told him I loved him. I really wish I had told him.
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The Other One {Harry Styles AU}
FanfictionBook One (complete). Haunted by the suicide of her older brother, Maddie Turner's life is in shambles. Her overbearing mother pushed her into acting when she was a child, and Maddie has spent the last 8 years playing herself in the biggest sitcom in...
