𝑩𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝑵𝒆𝒘 𝒀𝒐𝒓𝒌 { PREQUEL}

Ten

There wasn't a single definition of what a proper family was.

According to textbooks, there was various meanings. A family could be children and parents living in the same household, a group of people related to one another by blood, or marriage, or all descendants of a common ancestor. And then there was the loosely used concept of the word family-something people used to describe a group they felt that they belonged in, whether or not they were related to them.

I was jealous of the people who fell under all three definitions. I wanted to be surrounded by relatives that loved me as much as I loved them, relatives that carried the same blood and DNA as me. Most importantly, I wanted to be a part of something much grander than simply living in a household with people who couldn't care less about my wellbeing. I longed to wake up everyday, feeling safe and wanted.

Don't get me wrong, there was a point in my life where my family was the world to me.

We all used to be connected. It was like one beating heart that just happened to be inheriting four different bodies. I did everything with my family. My brother and I were connected at the hip; my parents were the eyes and ears for me throughout my early years of life. And then, it was all ripped away by a list of unresolved problems.

The next thing I know, my father was drinking himself into oblivion. It was an attempt to escape the reality of my mother's infidelity-the man that she couldn't seem to let go of. All that I had left was my brother, Aiden, who'd rather spend his days obsessing over food than face the grave situation of our broken home. He was too busy playing trial and error with recovery resources to truly care about any of this, which left me alone--like always.

Within months, it was like I was merely existing; just drifting through life.

I didn't know what made me hate my father more: how pathetic I felt while struggling to clean him up in the shower (after numerous drunken bar fights), or the many times he arrived at my school completely wasted and proceeded to embarrass me in front of the student body.

I had to get a job in order to help with the bills, due to my mom leaving abruptly and Dad's record shop not making enough money. I couldn't even fully enjoy the independence with having a job because if I wasn't working or at school, then I was stressing about trying to take care of Dad. My mother's absence had completely wrecked him, and it felt like things wouldn't be looking up as long as I continued to breathe.

Soon, my only outlet became music.

At the age of seventeen, I discovered a new boy-band. They had been around for a few years and I would always hear pointless chatter about them during school. I wasn't the type to listen to cookie-cutter popstar trash, so it always flew over my head when they were talked about.

But halfway though junior year, there was a new girl at school. The minute her eyes landed on me, she grinned and sat beside me in homeroom. Gradually, our conversations shifted from awkward to somewhat decent. Her name was Alice, and she had a phone case that displayed the very same boy-band that seemed to be everywhere I looked: One Direction. It wasn't long before she was talking about them, swooning over some blue-eyed Irish boy that had "the cutest laugh," As she liked to say.

Out of mere curiosity, I looked them up on YouTube a few weeks after our blossoming friendship.

I hated to admit it, but she was right. They had good music, and their offstage content was just as endearing as their smiles.

It wasn't long before I was considering myself a fan, making an exception for cookie-cutter popstar trash due to the iconic phenomenon of One Direction.

And from there on, it became a bit easier to navigate my way through life, especially with One Direction and Alice by my side.