Status: finished.
Love Always, Harry
three; marvel
The airport was loud and hectic, and Marvel could feel her anxiety kicking in a bit. Her hands began to shake, and she excused herself to the bathroom to calm her nerves down. She splashed a bit of water on her face, took a few deep breaths, and the woman at the sink next to her was looking at her a bit worriedly. Marvel mumbled to her about anxiety in crowds, and that she was fine, and the woman merely nodded, patted her back awkwardly, and walked away a little faster than normal.
Marvel sighed and leaned against the wall, staring at her reflection in the mirror. If she squinted hard enough, imagined hard enough, she could faintly feel a pair of arms wrapped around her body, a whisper in her ear that was telling her that it was going to be okay, that they were going to get out of there soon.
She closed her eyes and smiled softly to herself. He was always there for her, always comforting her.
When Marvel walked back to her mother, Willow was already there. Her blond hair was bright and sun kissed, long and lush as it flowed down her back to just touch above her bottom. She was smiling - fake, Marvel might add; Marvel knew she didn’t want to be there at all - at her mother, her perfect white teeth bright. Marvel always noticed, that even though they were polar opposites, looks and personality wise, they always had the same eyes: Their dad’s. Willow hated them, Marvel loved them.
“Hello, Willow,” she greeted politely and embraced her sister in a loose hug. Anything to please her mother, that was what she was all about. She didn’t want to disappoint her; that was one of her worst fears.
Willow smirked, looking at her sister up and down, and said, “Wow, Marvel, you haven’t changed a bit.” And to Willow, that wasn’t a good thing. Willow always had this odd accent that everyone seemed to find endearing; it was more American, but still had a bit of British drawl to it, and who didn’t love a nice British accent? Especially the Americans; they loved that.
“Neither have you, Willow,” said Marvel back, and nope, that wasn’t a good thing. Willow was still partying, still drinking to the point of alcohol poisoning, and getting higher than a kite the better part of the week.
“Well, let’s get going, then. Traffic is awful here,” their mother said, noting their tension, and Marvel picked up one of Willow’s lighter bags just to be nice. Besides, Willow got the heaviest of all of them, and that was just fine for Marvel.
The ride home was all about Willow, as expected. Their mother avoided the subject of Drew at all angles, and asked about her life in New York, what it was like, what the people were like. Willow was very happy to answer her questions, gushing about her “fabulous” life in New York City. Marvel didn’t listen, too jealous and hurt over the fact that her older sister got to go to New York before her. It was Marvel’s dream to go to New York City, go to art school there, not Willow.
After dinner, Marvel showed Willow up to their old room. They always shared a room, since the house only had two bedrooms. And, despite everything, Marvel was obligated to offer up anything of hers.
Willow scoffed, rolled her eyes, and said, “As if I’ll use any of your clothes. Besides, I’m getting out of here as soon as possible.”
And she was out the door a minute later, asking their mother if she could have some hot chocolate. Marvel stared after her in disbelief. Three hours at home, and she was already planning on leaving?
Marvel sighed and leaned against the wall, staring at her reflection in the mirror. If she squinted hard enough, imagined hard enough, she could faintly feel a pair of arms wrapped around her body, a whisper in her ear that was telling her that it was going to be okay, that they were going to get out of there soon.
She closed her eyes and smiled softly to herself. He was always there for her, always comforting her.
When Marvel walked back to her mother, Willow was already there. Her blond hair was bright and sun kissed, long and lush as it flowed down her back to just touch above her bottom. She was smiling - fake, Marvel might add; Marvel knew she didn’t want to be there at all - at her mother, her perfect white teeth bright. Marvel always noticed, that even though they were polar opposites, looks and personality wise, they always had the same eyes: Their dad’s. Willow hated them, Marvel loved them.
“Hello, Willow,” she greeted politely and embraced her sister in a loose hug. Anything to please her mother, that was what she was all about. She didn’t want to disappoint her; that was one of her worst fears.
Willow smirked, looking at her sister up and down, and said, “Wow, Marvel, you haven’t changed a bit.” And to Willow, that wasn’t a good thing. Willow always had this odd accent that everyone seemed to find endearing; it was more American, but still had a bit of British drawl to it, and who didn’t love a nice British accent? Especially the Americans; they loved that.
“Neither have you, Willow,” said Marvel back, and nope, that wasn’t a good thing. Willow was still partying, still drinking to the point of alcohol poisoning, and getting higher than a kite the better part of the week.
“Well, let’s get going, then. Traffic is awful here,” their mother said, noting their tension, and Marvel picked up one of Willow’s lighter bags just to be nice. Besides, Willow got the heaviest of all of them, and that was just fine for Marvel.
The ride home was all about Willow, as expected. Their mother avoided the subject of Drew at all angles, and asked about her life in New York, what it was like, what the people were like. Willow was very happy to answer her questions, gushing about her “fabulous” life in New York City. Marvel didn’t listen, too jealous and hurt over the fact that her older sister got to go to New York before her. It was Marvel’s dream to go to New York City, go to art school there, not Willow.
After dinner, Marvel showed Willow up to their old room. They always shared a room, since the house only had two bedrooms. And, despite everything, Marvel was obligated to offer up anything of hers.
Willow scoffed, rolled her eyes, and said, “As if I’ll use any of your clothes. Besides, I’m getting out of here as soon as possible.”
And she was out the door a minute later, asking their mother if she could have some hot chocolate. Marvel stared after her in disbelief. Three hours at home, and she was already planning on leaving?
♠ ♠ ♠
Okay, so a few things to point out. One, as forevernalways pointed out, I accidentally wrote my name as Marvel instead of Marley, omfg. How embarrassing that I don't even know my own name, hahahaa. It's Marley, promise. I'd love for my name to be Marvel, though.And yeah, Willow is a big part in the story actually, and how she acts, too. So, bear with me here.
So, the feedback continues to be amazing without fail. I got one new recommendation, SIX new subscribers, and two more comments, so that was incredible and completely made my day even better. Thank you so much! Keep it coming!
Also, my parents didn't get the computer yesterday. The one they wanted was completely sold out everywhere. So if I happen to miss a day or something, it's probably because my computer crashed. I shouldn't miss an update though, since I am keeping this in my drafts just in case, but one never knows, really.
So yeah, hope you enjoyed it. (: To keep up the gifs of the boys, here's my favorite gif of zayn. He's so beautiful, ugh.
Love always,
Marley, haha