Dreaming- A Niam Fanfiction

Not normal.

"I just- It....it f-feels like the old
t-times, doesn't it...?"

Greg's face turns into a light smile, and he chuckles.

"Oh Niall..." He breaths out, scooting over to me and wrapping his arms around my body, letting me hide my face in his neck, again.

I cry silently, feeling stupid for crying about something this small.

I'm such a child.

Greg sushes me, whispering kind things and bringing up memories about our play-fights.

After a while of sudden silence, Greg speaks up, his voice nice and full of emotion.

"I'm sorry I left, Ni. I should've taken you with me. I should've taken you and mum with me... Just taking you somewhere...."

He stops talking, and I can feel him thinking.

Thinking about old things.

Thinking of memories.

Thinking about mum and dad.

"I'm just sorry..."

I slowly lean away from him, and he immediately uses his thumb for wiping away the tears on my cheeks.

"It doesn't matter Greg, I know it was the best choise for you....But...I just missed you."

Greg lets out a chuckle, pulling me into a tight hug again.

"We look like people in those dramatic soaps."

I let out a laugh against my older brothers skin, and then breathe out a long sigh.

"The ones uncle Bill used to watch." I laugh, and I can feel Greg's laugh vibrating through his chest.

"Yeah...exactly those..."

*~*~*~*

"How Niall? You used to be....so happy." Greg says, staring at me while keeping his hand on my knee.

I look away from him, getting slightly irritated.

We've been talking for a while, and now come to the subject of how I came here.

Greg apparently found me, and carried me to his house, leaving me to sleep.

"I guess I changed huh?" I mumble, looking at the carpet on the floor.

"Niall, I know you've always been kinda...you know, but-"

I cut him of, turning to look at him sharply.

Anger is building up inside of me, and I can't stand being asked questions all the time.

Why can't I ask questions?

Why does he need to know so much about me?

'Niall, he's your brother.' Some voice in my head tells me, but I ignore it.

"I've been kinda what?! Tell me! Crazy? Strange?"

Greg sighs, biting his lip lightly.

"Niall, I just meant-"

Again I cut him off, getting more angry every second.

"What did you mean Greg?! What?!!"

"CAN YOU LET ME TALK NOW PLEASE?!" Greg suddenly shouts, silencing me.

I stare at him for a second, and he stares back, eventually letting out a long sigh.

"Niall, you know perfectly well that you've always been a little different. You're a dreamer, you're shy, you're naïve..."

He takes a deep breath, and then continious his list.

"You're a slow learner, you learned how to talk and how to write a lot later than normal children."

Biting my lip, my eyes start to burn.

I'm not normal.

I'm strange.

And Greg has thought that of me his entire life.

"You also have those weird things you 'have' to do, like, do you still have the stairs thing?"

I look up at my brother, lightly nodding.

"I've gotten a lot more since you left."

Greg sighs, brushing his hand through his hair and sighing when he looks back at me.

"Tell me..."

I gulp, thinking.

Does he really want to know?

There are a lot.

And with a lot, I really mean A LOT.

"I have to close every door in the appartment before I can fall asleep. I'm not allowed to touch the fifth step of the stairs, and I have to count all the little lines in the floor before I can lay down on my bed."

Greg's eyes soften, and he rubs his hand on my knee in little cirkles.

"How many lines Ni?"

"14"

It stays silent for a second, both of us sinking into our own thoughts.

Greg probably thinking about 'home'.

About mum and dad.

But that's something I don't want to think about.

"Are there more Ni?"

I look up at my brother who's sitting in front of me and looking at me with an undescribable emotion in his eyes.

"A lot more."

He nods, and licks his lips, playing with his fingers a little.

I know he wants to say something, and I know exactly what.

But I don't want to hear it, I don't want to listen to the words that are about to come out of his mouth.

Because I know I don't have an answer.

And I know that even though how much I think, I will never come to an answer.

"Nialler?"

"Yes?"

He takes a deep breath, and then asks it.

"How's it at home? What happened the last time you were there?"

I bite down on my tongue.

I knew it.

I knew he was going to ask that question.

I don't want to answer.

But the way he looks at me, forces me to say something.

To say the undeniable truth.

"I don't remember."