Flicker 》Harry Styles x Kennedy Walsh {COMPLETED}

24: The Brother Whose Sister Is Scorned

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Previously . . .

"What the fuck has he done?"

I jerk up at the sound of a male's voice.

I force myself to turn my head, and I am welcomed by the sight of a very, very pissed off Brandon Walsh.

Brandon Walsh's POV

I was already on my way to Kennedy's room when I caught the sound of her silent sobs. Immediately on high alert, I peeked, only to see her cradling her head between her hands, facing down as she tried to calm herself.

The sight of her that way made me clench my jaw. She looked so tired, defeated, and so not herself that it took me more than a second to recognize that she was in actual pain from both her period and something else—something that screamed not-so-little-things.

I was not an idiot.

When I saw her on the floor this morning, I knew she hadn't just fallen asleep. If she had, me carrying her up the stairs would've wakened her. No, I knew something else have had happened for her consciousness and body to have shut down. Her anxiety attack had gotten to her.

My best bet was the hate she's been receiving online. It had not escaped my notice, as well as Mom and Claudia's. Each of us was flooded with thousands of questions about her and Harry Styles—ranging from confirming and/or denying the dating rumors to the known fact of him being here in Maryland being connected with Kennedy.

It was crazy. Although the attention she got brought more views into my channel—probably because people wanted to see if there was something hate-worthy about her, which was a downright fucking stupid thing to do—it had severely damaged her self-esteem and mental health. A pit has been sitting in my stomach because of that exact reason. If my millions of new views could be bartered for her well-being, I would do it, in a heartbeat. No questions asked.

"What the fuck has he done?" I ask her, unable to keep the anger from my voice.

Kennedy looked up at me, her eyes brimming with tears. She wiped them away and forced a strong facade. "Who?" She whined, avoiding my gaze. "My period's killing me."

Feeling that I needed more convincing, she made a show of moving her hands to her lower belly, pressing her fingers there and wincing. I had no doubt that the satanic waterfall of blood was indeed killing her, but she was underestimating me if she thought I would actually believe it was the only thing.

"Catch," I tell her, tossing her painkillers I got from rummaging through Claudia's stash before coming here.

The tablets tumble from her hand but she catches them before they even reach the floor. I notice her bite her lip, probably holding back more tears.

It was not so often that I show affection for my little sisters. Multiple times I had done it by pranking them like filling every surface of Claudia's car with sticky notes when she decided to secretly purchase a vacant apartment from the same building Kennedy was moving into, or the Walsh family game shows that would rile them both up so much that it bonded us tighter.

We don't do the sappy shit. God knows both of them would hurl a string of profanities my way if I so much as try to tell them I adored them and Mom more than anyone else. It wasn't the way to do things but I could tell Kennedy needed the support right now.

"Talk to me," I coax. To my surprise, she wails like a banshee, her mouth open so wide as sounds escape it. I rear back in shock and confusion at her unusual reaction. "Geez, Kennedy, what will the neighbors think?"

"Don't say that," she admonishes, calm now, dabbing the corner of her eyes.

"Say what?"

She drops her voice a couple of octaves lower. "'Talk to me,'" and with her normal voice, she continues, "that sentence is forbidden in this house."

"What are you talking about?" I ask her, genuinely confused now.

Kennedy shakes her head stubbornly before falling back on her bed, groaning as she presses the heels of her palms against her closed eyes. "It's probably just my period talking."

"Is it telling you to murder a curly-haired boy with an accent?"

"Yup. He's wavy-haired though, not curly, with a Maryland accent and he's standing by my door at the moment."

I snort, unable to think of a retort. A few beats of silence pass and she moves one hand, peeking in my direction. When she sees me still there, another groan escapes her.

"You need someone to talk to about this Kennedy," I urge.

"God," she sighs, "now you sound like a therapist. You want to know? Fine," she sits up, hard and determined eyes now glaring at me, "pull up a seat. We're starting from the beginning and don't you dare interrupt or I will, in turn, be stopping your ability to continue the Walsh family name."

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I'm reviewing the finished video one last time, knowing what my goal was and already working toward it. "We have to post teaser pictures too," I tell them.

Nick taps on his phone, absentmindedly answering, "I have some on my phone, I'll send them over."

Cory and I nod, and I send some pictures over to Cory as well, the very first one I know he'd consider posting.

My mind wanders off on its own, my plan reminding me of what transpired not so long ago today. Kennedy wasn't kidding when she said she'd start from the beginning. She opened up about some things, choosing to keep silent about others.

What she did make me understand is her rapidly growing feelings for Harry were running deeper than she thought it would and she was well aware of the consequences of being with him. That, and her inhibitions kept her from pursuing what they had.

Huh. Makes both of us.

"Done," Cory says, setting his phone on the table before taking a swig of his beer.

I refresh my Instagram and his post appears on the timeline. I couldn't help the smirk on my face at the sight of it. I rarely ever was vengeful, and I almost never meddle with my sisters' lives but you cannot—no matter your social status or how many people fawn over you—hurt any of my sisters and get away with it without so much as a decent apology.

As I set my own phone down on the table and replace it with a can of beer, I let myself gloat.

During our conversation, Kennedy hinted subtly—well, as subtle as a Walsh could be—to not post anything that might hint the public about them both or her current emotional state. I respect her choice, I really do. It was mature of her to keep everything that's been happening off of social media. But, you see, she's called me immature quite a number of times and I've always denied it.

This time, I concede—because she's right, I am immature, and there's nothing more immature than a brother whose sister is scorned.

Harry's not gonna know what hit him.