Stand By Me

Chapter Four

He keeps his head ducked, not wanting to disappoint his mother with further tears, nodding. "Okay," he agrees in little more than a whisper.

A kiss is pressed to his forehead and he leans into the contact before she pulls away again, and then she's gone. Out of the room, into the kitchen, leaving him behind the pick up the pieces.

He sucks in a shuddering breath, hitching in the middle, not sparing a glance around the trashed room. He already knows that the coffee table has been knocked over, remembers the pain of his ribs slamming into the corner after dodging one of Paul's punches. Knows that the couch cushions are scattered around the floor, remembers his fingers grasping onto anything they could reach to use as some sort of shield. Nothing is ever enough. The blows still land. They still leave their mark.

He heads up the stairs slowly, drawing in slow and calculated breaths that only prolong the sharp sensation in his side but hold back the tears until he gets to his room.

As soon as his door clicks shut behind him, he shatters.

.

Harry receives endless praise for the presentation when he gets home. Papa ruffles his hair and tells him that he knew he'd be fine, and Dad hugs him as soon as he steps in through the door, asking him all about it before he's even had the chance to say hello.

It's the perfect set up, he thinks, to mention his upcoming birthday.

He sits down on the couch next to his Dad, snuggling into the man's side as he automatically moves so that he can wrap an arm around his shoulders, looking up at him with a grin that makes the man squint suspiciously at him.

"What're you after?" He asks, and Liam enters the room and answers before Harry can even begin to formulate a response.

The fifteen year old flops down the armchair, long limbs kicked out as he rolls his eyes. "He's gonna ask about that video game you got him for his birthday," he says, making Harry frown and reach out to grab one of the cushions on the couch beside him, flinging it across the room at his older brother.

"Hey! Was not!" He lies, making Liam glare at him, clearly in one of his bad moods again after a long day at school.

"Were too. You haven't stopped talking about it for weeks, you little nerd," he says, and Harry reaches across for another of the pillows only to be stopped by Dad catching his arm and frowning at him.

"That's enough. Liam, did you really have to come down here just to wind your brother up?" He asks, sighing at the older boy. Harry smirks as Liam grumbles something to himself before getting up and stomping back up to his room. Dad purses his lips as Papa walks into the room with a questioning expression. "We need to talk to the teenaged one about that attitude of his."

Harry butts in at that. "I'm gonna be a teenager too! In eight days," he reminds them, Papa shaking his head fondly whilst Dad pouts and wraps his other arm around him, drawing him in to a tight hug.

"Nope. You're not allowed, I'm afraid," he says, squeezing until Harry has no choice but to let out a giggle, squirming to get away from the embrace.

"Dad — Papa, help," he whines, slipping downwards off of the sofa in his attempt to free himself so that he ends up sitting on the floor in front of the couch instead, turning to look at them both with a faux glare, knowing that his hair is likely sticking up from his struggle if the amused expressions on both his parents faces are anything to go by.

"Sorry, Curly, I'm with your Dad on this one. No birthday allowed this year, I refuse to let you grow into a moody teenager like your brother," Papa states with a nod, making Harry scowl before he lets out a whine.