Patterns of Blues

Chapter 4

Five years later.

"Pssst."

"Pssssssttt."

"Ni."

"Buddy."

"Wake upppp."

Niall swatted aimlessly at the disturbance, groaning dramatically into his pillow and turning to face the wall,

"Leave me alone."

"No, it's time for school," the voice said impatiently, "Greg'll lose it if we're late."

"Greg will never notice," another voice grumbled from further away, "he's too hungover to care." Niall huffed into his pillow before rolling over and being met with the anxious gaze of Harry, inches from his face. Geez, dude, ever heard of personal space? He pushed himself into a sitting position and glanced at the clock: 7:03.

"Guys, it's not that late. You could've let me sleep for another ten minutes."

"Fat chance," that was Liam, "Greg might not notice, but you still need to be up and ready-dressed, at least! And you haven't eaten yet! Ni, I swear you'll starve yourself one of these days." Niall tuned out his brother's tangent and stumbled to his feet, tossing the blankets on his bed into a massive heap on one end and setting his pillow up neatly on the other.

Bed made in ten seconds, he should receive an award for this record. Instead, he earns a poke in the ribcage,

"That's just lazy, Ni. You're lucky we're already running late or I'd make you redo it." He frowned at Harry's statement before wandering to the dresser and trading his pajamas out for a pair of jeans and a grey t-shirt, both of which were hand-me-downs from one of his brothers, and were much too big. He messed with his hair for a moment before giving up on it and sighing loudly,

"I don't feel so good."

"Probably because you haven't eaten," Liam replied unhelpfully, glancing across the room at him with concern. Niall glowered at him for a moment while Harry pressed the back of his hand to his forehead,

"Well, you don't feel hot. What hurts?"

"My head," he replied honestly. A headache isn't enough to skip school, and he wouldn't have wanted to stay home with his dad anyway. Dad.

Ha. Funny.

Greg hasn't been much of a dad since Mama died, not that he could remember much before then anyway, so he was just going off of his brothers' word. After Mama got in the car wreck, Greg took to drinking, and then let his frustrations out on Niall and his brothers. It started out alright, just yelling at one of them occasionally, but then he started hitting.

And he never stopped.

Harry got it the most because he would always stand in the way of Niall. He did everything he could to protect the younger boy, and Niall hated it.

So much.

He didn't deserve to be hit, no, but Harry didn't either and that's all the pattern was. Get home from school, tick Greg off, get beaten senseless. For no reason.

God, if Niall hated anyone in the world, it would be his stupid dad. Luckily, Liam didn't get hurt too often, because he had taken up a weekend job to save up money so they could move out when he was older, and he wasn't home as much. "Gotta keep each other safe," is what he would say, and Harry seemed to have that tattooed inside his brain as his life motto, hardly letting Niall out of his sights after school.

He found himself studying the middle brother's face, searching out the splotches of faded blues on his cheekbone and splayed up to his right eye. Harry caught on to this and ducked his head,

"Don't stare at it, Niall."

"I can't help it," he protested with a huff, "I don't like to see you hurt."

"Then don't look," Harry replied almost angrily, folding his arms over his chest "I never asked you to." Liam's face shifted from indifference to irritation,

"Haz, give it a rest. He's just worried for you, is all." Harry sighed loudly, arms dropping to his sides,

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

"Now," Liam continued with the voice one would use when talking to a puppy, "let's get this little goon some food." He reached over and pinched Niall's cheeks affectionately, and the youngest brother made a face, swatting his hands away. Harry smiled briefly before leading the way to the kitchen.

Which turned out to be a bad idea, because there Greg was, kneeling over the kitchen sink, head in his arms. Niall made to back away but was stopped by a stern voice,

"What do you little freaks want." It wasn't a question. It was a demand.

"Ni needs some breakfast," Liam spoke for them, and that was the safest bet because Niall was already too frightened to speak and he knew Harry would end up stuttering. Like always, Niall felt a hand slip around his and tighten protectively. Harry.

"No," Greg countered, turning around to face them, "Ni doesn't need spit. I don't remember him buying groceries, do you? If he can't be awake at a decent time then he can just go hungry." Niall nodded vigorously, just wanting to appease him,

"I-I know. I can just go without."

"Good."

"No, he can't," Liam said simply, "he goes without food enough. Just let me make him some cereal and we'll leave."

"Liam," Harry whispered a warning, and Niall felt his hand tremble in fear.

"What did you say?" Greg asked-well, rather boomed-his blue gaze clouding with outrage.

"I said," Liam replied calmly, "Niall needs to eat." Niall shivered as his father took a step towards them,

"And I said that he can go without."

"He can't, he will starve," Liam said slowly, as though explaining it to a child and Niall prepared himself to hightail it out of there. Greg officially lost his cool, but instead of hitting Liam as he expected, Greg grabbed Niall by the wrist and tugged him out of Harry's grasp as though he were a ragdoll before practically throwing him on a seat against the counter and slammed down a bowl of scraps that were left over from the evening before, green drops of it spilling over the edge at the aggressive motion. Cold vegetable soup with soggy bread crusts floating around like sludge. Niall looked from the bowl to Greg, eyes wide.

"If you're so close to starving, eat," the man growled, staring down at him through narrow slits of blue.

"N-no, it's alright. I'll just wait 'til lunch," Niall murmured shakily, scooting away from the counter, but he was caught by a strong hand grabbing his jaw and pulling him back down,

"I said for you to eat it."

Niall nodded silently and spooned a bite of it, nearly choking once it landed on his tongue.

"Please, don't make him. He'll get sick," Harry spoke softly from somewhere behind him, and he wasn't brave enough to look away from the bowl in front of him.

"Stay out of it, Curly," Greg warned, and the middle brother seemed to take his advice, but the tension in the dirty kitchen was palpable, and Niall wanted to reach out and strangle it, already sick of the day. Niall choked down the rest of it as quickly as he could, not wanting to savor any of it, completely disgusted by the whole thing.

Greg barked at them to get lost, so the three brothers silently grabbed their school bags and rushed out the door. Luckily for them, the elementary school was only a couple of blocks down from their house, and their district's middle school was directly across the street, so it wasn't a far trek. Liam didn't walk either of them to their doors, because the high school was another ten-minute walk away and he was already going to be late.

Niall gave Harry a quick hug and sighed as his brother retreated to the middle school across the street before entering the elementary school, missing him as soon as he had let go.

Little did he know that the day was only going to get worse from there.