The Styles Twins (Marcel + Harry Styles)

Chapter Three (Part Two)

Okay, guys. I am deeply sorry for going M.I.A for a while, but I'm back! I started this story in the summer and never really thought about school, and once school did start, I was completely booked. Now I'm back! I hope my readers haven't completely gone missing! Here goes nothing!

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Harry

There was a knock at the door at 7:30 PM. Dinner was ready, and I realized I was starving. Marcel's head snapped towards the door excitedly as he swung his legs off the side of his bed and rubbed his weary eyes before replacing his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

I gave him a smile and released a heavy sigh, smelling the fumes of diced onion and taco seasoning waft through the air. At least it was taco night. I could live with that, and manage not to snap at my parents through the course of dinner. Hopefully. I couldn't promise it, though.

"Let's go, buddy," I ushered him towards the door as we entered the hallway, "Go wash up." I pushed him towards the bathroom. He pushed the sleeves of his button-down up and scrubbed his hands, humming to himself.

I entered the kitchen and met my parent's faces. My mom looked tired. If she had half the day Marcel and I had, I wouldn't blame her, but I know she hadn't found work yet, and her only duty was to unpack the living room this afternoon. After taking a peek into the living room, realizing it was the same as when Marcel and I left for school this morning, I knew she had failed at her task.

As for my dad, he looked angry. It had become his usual face overtime. Eyebrows pushed together, crease in his forehead, lips straight, no smile. He slammed the cabinet closed after retrieving a stack of plates, and my mother rolled her eyes at him. At least the fighting had ended, and now they were giving each other the "silent treatment". Real mature.

"Smells good." I commented, hoping to break the silence. You could practically cut the tension with a knife.

Marcel rounded the corner from the hallway, entering the kitchen. I helped him towards his usual spot at the small, round table, then offered to help my mom set the table. She refused my offer, and I took a seat next to Marcel as our parents filled the table with taco shells, lettuce, diced tomato, meat, cheese, and tortillas, since Marcel wasn't a fan of hard-shelled tacos.

When we were all seated together, it was awkward. I expected my parents to show some decency and ask their sons how their first day of hell-on-earth was.

"So, how was school?" Right on cue, my mother asked, before taking a bite of her taco.

Marcel was the first to answer. "School? School was fine! Wasn't it, Harry?" His face showed such exuberance, I could hardly disagree if I wanted to. I nodded, "Yeah, it was fine." Fine, if you disregarded the fact that Marcel had a mental breakdown on the very first day.

"That's good." My mother's monotone voice replied as she wiped her hands with a crumpled napkin, "Do you like your classes?"

Marcel nodded, "I love math. Math is always the best. Microbiology wasn't my favorite, but it was good, too. Yep. My classes are good. What about you, Harry?"

One of the most outstanding and wonderful things about Marcel was his compassion, especially towards me. Not to sound conceited, but Marcel and I definitely shared a bond. It was common knowledge that most twins did share a bond, however, ours seemed to be stronger. I felt a duty to protect him. I wanted to shield him from the unfair bullshit of the world. The unfairness that Marcel seemed almost oblivious to. To him, the world was a wonderment of endless possibilities and aspirations. Unfortunately, I knew the harsh reality of this idea. Marcel would forever be the target of a cruel world.