The Styles Triplets: Remastered

-ONE-

Harry's POV

"Can you believe this guy?" Edward mutters. "Studying on a Saturday."

"What's so bad about wanting to graduate high school?" Marcel asks. "I am actually worried you won't even make it to second semester. I'm surprised you even made it this far at all. Well I guess I'm not surprised since you threaten me to do your work for you."

"What did you say?" Edward slams his fist on the counter.

"Hey bro— chill out for a bit," I intervene. "he isn't wrong."

"How did I get so fucking lucky to have not one but TWO idiot brothers." Edward says.

"He's calling us the idiots," Marcel laughs, "unbelievable."

"You're asking for it," Ed points his finger at Marcel.

"Asking for what?" Marcel frowns, "what're you gonna do..hit me?"

Edward & Marcel were always arguing. Well, let me rephrase that; Edward was always arguing with literally anyone. He out of the three had the shortest temper. Also was the one with the most tattoos, the most piercings & the highest body count known to man. Well at least that's the rumor that has been going around. Known to be true? I wouldn't doubt it. Ed was known for the triplet with the longest hair & of course the lead singer of his band. Everyone knew when he arrived anywhere because the sound system in his truck was insane, you could replace your home stereo for the system in his truck at house parties. Needless to say, Edward was the outcast.

Marcel on the other hand, I'd say was the most brilliant of us all. I admire him for that — I don't mind being second best at school, as long as I'm above Edward. Marcel did have a different taste in appearance than the rest of us; & by us I meant the world. What Edward likes to refer to as"nursing home Styles". Obviously not the best description but the only other way I can put it. He had astigmatism in both eyes, causing him to wear very large, thick glasses. The shortest hair, slicked to the side & pants up to his torso. Although he did look a bit old fashioned, Marcel always said he felt comfortable & safe in the clothes he wore & the books he studied, despite what anyone thought about him.

Me on the other hand, I'm pretty laid-back. I have a few tattoos here & there, my hair isn't to short nor too long, probably the curliest of the three. My style is fairly different. One day I can rock a flower suit or the next I'm in jeans & a plain shirt. You never really know what you're gonna get with me. The lads at school used to always make fun of me for being different but now they kind of admire me for it. It has become quite popular with the ladies & I can't complain. I do well in school & I'm captain of the soccer team. I like to write poems and songs a little more than I should but that's a secret I keep to myself.

"Cut it out," Marcel slaps Edwards hand, "why do you always have to pick on me when I'm studying."

"It's Saturday," Edward continues to try & pick at Marcels ear. "go find yourself a girlfriend, or boyfriend — if you're into that."

"Ed seriously, cut it out." I push him away from Marcel.

"Nobody was talking to you," he pushes back. I push back, then he pushes back. Suddenly it became a back & forth of pushing.

Pushing then turned into a wrestling match & before you knew it, Edward & I were on the living room floor fighting. "Let go," he struggles.

"Say sorry" I say as I lock his arm behind his back with one knee on his legs.

"Fuck you," he spits.

"Then I'm not letting you go," I twist his arm just a tad bit harder.

"Alright," he yells, "I'm sorry!"