He's my brother?

Chapter 16

Dylan's POV

"I said hey, it's alright, if it makes you feel alive!" Harry sang loudly as we skipped with linked arms down the street.

The song was one that would be put on their upcoming album; they had played it to me on the way to the restaurant in the car. Dinner had gone well, and the tension had seemed to lessen slightly. Though I didn't know if that was mainly to do with the amount they had had to drink.

We decided to walk back home and then get the tube to the station a couple of minutes walk from Liam's house.

"Harry shut up, you can't let people hear it yet," Niall whispered, though there was no one around.

"Silly Niall, they can't hear me," Harry patted Niall on the head.

It was moments like these where I would loved to have seen the boys reactions if I had filmed and showed them their actions.

"Let's just get home," Liam said, the most sober one of the group. "You might want to keep a hold of him, he's probably going to fall off the platform if we're not careful."

I laughed and kept a light grip on Harry's arm while I let him drag me down the tube station. The six of us waited on the nearly empty platform until the next train came, and then climbed on.

"It stinks of piss," Louis scrunched up his nose.

I mentally face palmed when I noticed a woman with two young children sat near us in the carriage.

"Sorry," I said awkwardly.

She simply sent me a small smile and a nod.

Fifteen minutes later and we were home; Liam and I both let out sighs of relief when we were safe through the front door.

"It's probably best if we just head up to bed," Liam shrugged.

"Alright, will I see you in the morning?" I directed my question to the other four.

I got various head nods and smiled in response before making my way up to my bedroom.

I changed into my old athletics club t shirt and some shorts after brushing my teeth. I climbed into bed and pulled out my phone, hoping to do some quality Instagram stalking. Unfortunately, a still very much drunk Harry decided to make an appearance.

"Dylan, I have a question," he slurred, falling next to me on the bed and closing his eyes.

In his state I dreaded to even imagine what words could have come out of his mouth next.

"If you're at a restaurant," he began, squinting in difficulty, "and you're waiting for the waiter to come with your food. Doesn't that make you the waiter?"

My face contorted into response of confusion, unable to decipher how Harry had come out with such a thought provoking question while being so drunk.

"Harry," I shook my head. "What the hell?"

Harry frowned and put his finger to my lips.

"You shouldn't swear," he shook his head. "Goodnight."

His head fell back down onto the pillow and within seconds his breathing became heavier.

"No, Harry," I tried to shake him awake, without success, "Harry you can't stay..."

But I realised my arguments were useless and instead I pulled my blanket over his lanky body and tucked it around his shoulders. I curled up on the other side of the bed, contemplating how long it was going to take for everything to get back to normal. Not that any of this was really 'normal'.