Patterns of Blues

Chapter 7

Liam tried to smile at Harry, knowing that the middle brother's heart couldn't take it if Niall were seriously hurt somewhere, but he couldn't focus on trying to reassure anyone at the moment. His brain was ticking much faster than usual, thoughts shifting from the events of the early morning before they left for school to the recent conversation with Niall's teacher. He felt his heart racing inside his chest, and his fingers rolled up and back out multiple times, nervous to know what Niall might have said for her to become so concerned. Frustration built, and he knew as soon as they made it home he would have to scold the youngest of them for letting someone catch on to their secret. If he's alive enough to scold, an annoying bit of inner dialogue voiced, and Liam's stomach churned at the prospect.

He was probably fine. That's what he decided on, knowing that it was utterly pointless to consider any other possible options. Liam chose to think that Ni would be sitting at the kitchen counter eating too many chocolate chip cookies for his health or singing the alphabet song, just like he used to when he and Harry returned from school. F a t c h a n c e, the inner voice spelled out for him, and Liam shook his head repeatedly to force it away. Niall was fine. He had to be.

Liam glanced over towards Harry, who was staring straight ahead as they jogged back to their home, his curls bouncing around his face as he went. It made him look younger, and Liam felt a twinge of guilt for making him grow up so fast. If he were still home all the time, he would be able to protect Harry from the violence. It wouldn't be up to an eleven-year-old to decide where to hide an eight-year-old the second Greg walked through the door. If he were around, Harry would never have to get hit again.

He sighed internally and wanted to stop and hug him, knowing full well what he had to endure to guarantee Niall didn't get it too bad. Instead, he picked up the pace, aware that nothing would make Harry feel better until he knew Ni was all right. Harry kept up easily, and Liam knew it must be the adrenaline boost this whole charade must have given him.

They hurried down the last few blocks before reaching their rickety porch, splinters of old blue paint crumbling off when he grabbed the railing. He popped his shoes off out of habit and reached for the doorknob. It stung his hand with cold, and if he wasn't so focused on Niall's safety, it might have affected his mood. Harry sniffed from behind him, probably a combination of the crisp air and emotions of panic making him do so. As they entered, Liam tried to think of something helpful to say, but a tiny whimper sounding from across the otherwise silent house caused his heart to lurch. Harry seemed to have heard it too, his breath hitching from beside Liam, and the younger of the two took off before he could react properly. He sealed the door shut and chased after him, searching the living room for Niall with wild eyes. Harry found him first, huddled in the corner with his back against the couch, knees tucked up to his chest, and forehead resting against them, quiet sobs shaking his tiny body. No words were spoken, but when Harry dove to his side, the littlest brother clung to his t-shirt, burying his face against his chest. The middle brother held him tightly, whispering reassurances between a few soft kisses to his hair. Liam was more concerned about what could have happened for him to be so distraught, and knelt to their level, gently tugging Niall away from Harry,

"What happen---" he cut himself off as Ni lifted his head and looked at him with a watery gaze, trails of tears staining his face, the corners of his eyes and cheeks pink from irritation. What stood out the most, though, was a dark mark that splayed over his eyebrow down the bottom of his left eye, a bruise that hadn't been there earlier. Fear turned to anger, and Liam clenched his fists, itching to confront the person who did this to him. Greg.

"He got mad," Niall murmured, his chapped bottom lip wobbling. Liam brushed the blond boy's bushy hair behind his ear and frowned sadly,

"I know, Ducky. Did he hurt you anywhere else?"

Ni shook his head and wrapped his arms around Harry once again. The middle brother's face was emotionless, green eyes glazed over in deep thought. He absently pressed the side of his head to the youngest's before slowly dragging his gaze to Liam,

"We need to tell somebody."

"No," Liam replied quickly, shooting the suggestion down, "When I make enough money, we're going to move out together and we'll finally be safe." Harry frowned,

"That's going to be a long time from now, Liam. I'm talking about right now. I don't want Ni getting hurt---you heard what that woman said. People can help."

"People won't help us, Harry. No one ever has and that's not going to change."

"You don't know that," Harry challenged, and Liam noticed his grip around Niall tightening, the youngest pressing his lips together uncomfortably,

"No, I do know that," Liam snapped, "Dad was supposed to help us, and he left. Mama was supposed to help us, and she killed herself. Greg was supposed to help us, and just look," he gestured towards Niall's face, and he ducked his head to hide it. More softly he added, "Harry, nobody cares about what happens to us."

"Well, I do," Harry spoke bravely, "and I'm sick of letting him hurt us. I can tell Mr. Swanson tomorrow, and then we won't have to be here anymore."

"Harry, you don't get it," Liam sighed defeatedly, "They'll separate us. They always separate siblings, and we won't be able to look after each other." That appeared to strike a chord with him, and he breathed out shakily, eyes glossing over when he looked from Liam to Niall,

"Okay. I-I won't tell anyone." Liam tried to smile encouragingly but knew he was failing,

"We'll be alright."

Harry nodded jerkily before boosting Niall to his feet,

"Are you sure he didn't hurt you anywhere else?"

"He hurt my wrist a little bit," Niall admitted hesitantly, but then shook his head forcefully, "It wasn't too bad, I don't know why I was crying." Liam felt his heart become heavy,

"You were crying because you were scared, Bub, it's alright."

Niall shrugged in response, avoiding his gaze,

"I'm okay, really. He left just before you came back and he mostly just yelled. I'm okay." His tone was desperate, but Liam could tell he was convincing himself just as much as he was them.

"Shane said you were sick," Harry said, changing the subject, "Are you still poorly?" Niall glanced up, confusion masking his face momentarily before he seemed to understand,

"Oh, Shawn," then he nodded slowly, "I think it was just breakfast. I'm okay now." Liam almost scoffed. Breakfast. He knew he shouldn't have stood by and watched Niall choke down the old scraps, and wanted to turn back time to that morning and slap his past self,

"Are you sure you're alright?" Harry fretted, placing the back of his hand on Niall's forehead. Niall squirmed away from the touch and nodded again,

"I'm fine." Liam smiled briefly and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder,

"He's okay, Haz."

Instead of accepting the response, he shot Liam a look that told him: For how long?