99 Problems And Counting (One Direction Fanfic)

Chapter 4- The Old Dean.

As you can read from the title of the chapter...this part will be mostly about Dean. A little birdie told me I should describe the character before going into the main part :)

-merci beacoup!-

Enjoy!

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I came home that night after meeting Harry, feeling good, relaxed in fact. Maybe that's what I needed, someone to talk to. Someone to help get my mind off things.

Everyone was sleeping, living in dreamland. All except, Dean. He was sitting on the L-shaped couch, his elbows on his knee and his fingers rubbing his temples. I was already tip-toeing upstairs when he looked up. "Where have you been?" he snapped, raising an eyebrow. "It's nearly midnight. God knows what kind of people will be walking around the park at this hour. Who's jacket is that you're wearing?" Dean had always been overprotective when it comes to his sisters.

I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say. I was just talking to a guy who I just met and he gave me his blazer.Sure, like that's a good explanation. "I was just-" I started, but Dean cut me off.

"You shouldn't have talked to dad like that. He was just drunk." He said, much calmer.

"Why should I? He's been treating all of us like crap and you expect me to have respect for him?" I argued.

I started to walk away but he grabbed my arm. His hazel eyes bore into mine and I knew he was serious. "Look I know. But he's still our dad."

I opened my mouth to speak but he stopped me. "Don't argue with me. Just get to bed."

I stomped to my room in anger. My night had officially been ruined. And to think that grandma invited us here in London because she wanted everything to get better. I thought so too, but we were wrong. Dad had just made it worse with his sick attitude. I hanged Harry's coat on my wardrobe door, placed my guitar in its holder and lay on my bed with my feet dangling at the side. I thought of mum and how much pain she's going through. I thought of Amy and how she may have to handle this as she grows up.

Dean,on the other hand, was changing. He was becoming more quiet and secretive. The day before we left for Grandma's house I saw him sneaking a brown box in his room. I asked him what he was but he ignored me and locked his bedroom door. When mum called him down for dinner, he didn't come. I had to give him "dinner in bed" served in his blue food tray that we always used for Birthday Breakfast-In-Bed. Every birthday, we wake up early and cook breakfast-in-bed for the celebrant. Of course, Dad was never there to share the moment with us. He preffered Slutty Susan. It was much better without him,anyways. There was no arguements and we didn't have to think about him. That's until he calls aks for money. Money for his beer. Money for Slutty Susan. I wonder what got him to do all this stuff. What did mum ever do to him? What did we ever do to him?

If you come to our house, and you walk upstairs, you'll know Dean's room when you see it. It had the words "DEAN'S ROOM. KEEP OUT." written in big, bold black letters on his door. I knocked on his door. Twice. Three times. I waited but there was no answer. I called out his name and suddenly there was a sound. It sounded like he was hiding something. I heard a plastic bag crackle and his drawer shut. "Dean, your dinner is here. It's getting cold." I sounded like mum then.

A short while later, he opened the door, just a crack. Like he didn't want me to see something. Was he hiding someone? A girl maybe? Or something else? I didn't really care. When Dean poked his head out, his face worried me. His eyes were huge, bigger than usual, and a strong smell came out from his messy room. "Are you smoking?"

"No. Get out."

"I was never in your room, Dean."

He took the tray off my hands and closed the door right at my face.

I called out "What the hell, Dean?"

From there I knew something was not right.

*****

That night I didn't want to think of anything but, Harry. His curly locks and amazing smile, and the way we talked like we knew each other for a long time. The way he listened to me blab about myself. Not that he probably understood what I said. He didn't say a lot. He just looked at me, smiling. He did laugh at the appropriate times and responded when I asked questions. Come to think of it, he looked familiar. I thought I've seen him before but I forgot where and when. I scrapped the thought and fell asleep.

The next morning, I was woken up by the pitter patters of raindrops at my window. I lay there in silence, thinking if I go downstairs I'll have to face everyone. I didn't want to, not after last night. I heard a knock on my door. "Madison, your breakfast is here." Dean's voice sounded soft, caring almost. It was definately different from how he talked to me the night before. I got out of bed and opened the door just a crack. Just like he did. "Can I come in?" he asked.

"Why?"

He seemed taken aback by my question. "I just need to talk to you. Please?" I was sure he was trying his best to give his puppy eyes.

I let him in anyway. He placed my breakfast tray on my study table, next to a pile of school books I brought. "What time did you go to sleep last night?" he says sitting at the corner of my bed, smiling like he hasn't a care in the world about what happened last night.

"Why do you care?" I muttered tucking myself in.

His eyes flickered in astonishment. "I was just wondering. You came home late from who-knows-where."

"I was just at the park." I replied, being unresponsive.

That's the difference with me and Dean. Whenever we have an argument, I'm the type of person who doesn't talk. Dean acts like nothing happened. But I can never ignore him for a long time. We always tell each other stuff that we can never tell anyone else. Not even our friends. We were close.

"Look I'm sorry for what happened. I didn't mean to shout at you. I was-"

"What is up with you, Dean?" I shouted.

He looked at me, his face confused.

"I miss the old Dean." I confessed. Tears were already streaming down my face. I didn't know why I was crying but I couldn't help it. After everything that has happened in this holiday, I just couldn't help but cry.

His expression didn't change. "What do you mean?"

You see, Dean and I were like twins, only he's two years older. We had the same brown hair and hazel eyes. His was short and tousled, mine was wavy-ish. Dean was extremely vain. Everday, before school, he'd get up early just to do his hair. He has his own shelf in the bathroom full of hair gels and he takes longer than me to get ready. No wonder why all the girls in school fell for him.

There was this one girl though, who did not care if Dean was the hottest guy in high school or if he was the captai of the football team. That was the girl who had his attention. She was blonde and blue-eyed. She was really pretty and was really sweet too. We all loved her to be with Dean. They dated for about a year before she left to stay in America with her parents. That was Dean's first heartbreak. He'd talk to me about it. He'd tell me everything. Now, Dean hardly ever talks.

****

He wiped my tears with his sleeve. "I'm still the same Dean, Madi...You never did tell me where you've been last night?" He raised his eyebrow. "Who's jacket were you wearing?"

I grinned.

He grinned back. This time he was nodding and I knew what was coming.

I darted down stairs, avoiding DEAN'S DEADLY TICKLE. It was his way of getting me to 'fess up.

Maybe the old Dean never left.