Melodic Love

Chapter 1

  "Wake up...wake up." He was a dark haired boy. He whispered but his lips never moved. "Alana..." He called. The world was dark around me, a murky black that seemed to bend and move with shadows. The air was thick. almost hard to breathe and move in. So how was he calling to me so easily? As I tried to breathe in and respond, a weight pressed onto my chest, stopping me. Silence filled in around us. "It's time to wake up, silly." His still voice called. I never saw him step forward, but in a second, the boy seemed to be right in front of me. He frowned, his lips finally parting. He opened his mouth to speak.

         "Alana Grace!" The scream brought me from the dream. With a hit from something soft, I opened my eyes. I squinted, expecting to see my dark dream world. I was greeted by a sunny room though, and an angry looking mother.I sat up in time to be smacked with a decorative pillow. The fuzz from its fraying edges stuck to my lips as the large object dropped into my lap. I pulled at the gross fuzz as she began to speak. 

        "I have been yelling for you for the past ten minutes," She began, hands on her hips. "It's time that you seriously get up. We have things to do before he gets here." I groaned and flopped back into the pillows, covering my eyes. "You think that you'd be excited that your brother was coming home. Everyone else is. He's also bringing one of the boy's home for the break." I listened to her. Another groan came and I felt another smack from a different pillow.

        "Is he gay or something mum? I mean, he never brings singing Barbie home, but he brings a dude? I think she's a cover up. You should ask him about tha-" I was interrupted by the slam of the door. Of course, her famous son was to perfect to be gay or anything she found negative. I climbed out of bed and sighed softly. Truly, I could see my brother as a homosexual. He had the fashion for it. So did the three other members of his little boy band. I stepped in front of my closet and looked myself over in the full length mirror that was hung onto it. A cringe was caused by my reflection. I looked like a zombie, fresh from the gave. Not that I minded what I looked like. I mean, I looked just like him. We all looked the same, dark hair, tan skin. It wasn't hard to tell that my family was related to each other.

        Turning around, I huffed. "What's so special about Zayn anyways?" Sure he had nice hair, but so did we. He was just over glorfied man who was gawked at by girls who hadn't even had their period yet. "Good one Alana, save that for later." I grinned to myself as I walked into the hall. What made matters worse was that it was clear that my older brother was the favorite. He could sing, he looked good, he had become rich, his wife to be was beautiful and was also a singer. Zayn was the child that my mother was proud of. Then there's me. The cheerleader and piano player. I didn't even like cheering. It was just something my mother had put me in to keep me busy and have a small bragging right for. Don't get me wrong, she's an amazing woman. It's the fact that my mother beams at the mention of her talented son and watching that light die out when I was mentioned after. So no, I was currently not unhappy at the thought of that very same man coming home for two weeks.

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        'How did I let her convince me to come with her?'  I asked myself over and over again as i leaned my head against the cold glass of the window. I sat in the front seat, ear-buds in as she gushed about how excited she was to see him again. I just nodded and answered with: 'Yups. or, 'That should be fun.' Not that she cared if I thought it was fun. She just wanted to hear that what she was planning for her son would amazing. So there I sat, the ear-buds playing a familiar guitar solo and a pair of sunglasses shading me from the rest of the world. I casually lifted my cup of coffee and sipped the hot drink in order to avoid a question she had asked. Now I remember why I came, the coffee.