Nobody Compares

When Addison Selley's family is killed in a car crash, she's forced to live with her new guardian until she turns eighteen- her cousin Harry Styles. Yes, that Harry Styles.
However, a distraction arises in the form of a blonde Irishman.
Right. There's just one foreseen problem. And that problem is Niall Horan.


*WARNING* coarse language, sexual scenes, violence. :)

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11. potato pie

 

 

 

"Potato pie, potato pie," I muttered to myself as I opened the bar fridge on the tour bus.

"Why do you want potato pie?" asked Harry, wrinkling his nose at me from he sat.

"Craving," I shrugged, rummaging around. "Who stocked this thing? There's only drinks."

"That's why you don't go looking for a potato pie in a bar fridge, sweetheart," I heard Niall drawl. I ignored him. I didn't want to even look at him, much less talk to him. Sometimes, I wondered if he had multiple personalities or something. One moment, he was almost bearable. Others, he was either being a dickhead, a douchebag or lashing out unexpectedly. Like last night.

I was wearing a scarf over my neck today just in case. It wasn't visible though, not as visible as they'd felt when he been pining me up against the wall by my neck. Luckily, I think I was getting sick as well. I say luckily because if not, Louis probably would have peeled the scarf off me, accusing me of sporting hickies. Then they might see the scratches. I didn't want to admit it, but the thought of angry Niall scared me. There were times when I'd fight him happily, mess with his head and grind him up just to piss him off. Other times, I'd let him walk all over me.

Right now, I just couldn't care less. It’d been another packed day and the concerts had just finished. We were on the way back to the hotel, and my sickness was slowly getting worse. Now, I was even starting to get a bit of a temperature which meant of course, I looked terrible.

We got back and I immediately threw myself onto the couch, sniffling.

Harry crouched beside, with a concerned look on his face as he furrowed his eyebrows in concentration.

“Wait here,” he instructed. I sighed. Not like I was going anywhere. Zayn plopped down next to me and patted my hair sympathetically. I moved so my head was resting in his lap.

“You need anything, Selley?” he asked wearily. I shook my head slowly.

Harry came back, and shoved something into my mouth that I nearly gagged on. I spat profusely, coughing it up again.

“What the hell?” I croaked. It was a thermometer. He picked it back up and put it in my mouth again. He leant down, reading it for a while, before pulling it out.

“You’re at thirty nine degrees,” he sighed. “No going out tomorrow.”

“But-” I protested weakly. Tomorrow they were actually going out to go sight-seeing.

“No buts,” Harry cut across me sternly, grabbing my blanket and tugging it up to my chin. “Need you all rested.”

“I’m fine,” I retorted unconvincingly, before I sneezed again.

“Boys,” called Louis, “Since we’re not going out tonight, let’s have fun right? Who’s up for drinks?”

“Oh, let’s play!” exclaimed Zayn, jumping up. I groaned as I shifted back into the couch. I really did want to play. Only, they probably wouldn’t let me. That, and I was underage.

“I can’t play,” sighed Harry, “Gotta be half decent in the morning, or else Paul will be on me again.”

“Have fun,” snickered Niall, waltzing past Harry. Harry punched him lightly on his shoulder, and disappeared into his room. Niall, Louis, Zayn and Liam all sat around the bar with Louis serving. I struggled to sit up and watch their game.

“Which one, you reckon?”
 

“No point doing a Flip, Sip, Strip,” huffed Zayn, jumping onto his stool. “No girls.”

“There’s Addie.”

“She’s not gonna wanna-”

“I wanna play!” I hollered, staggering to my feet and stumbling over to the bar. I shoved Zayn to the side and pulled a stool up.

“Still,” said Liam evenly. “No point. Plus, Harry will kill us. Plus-”

“Alright, no stripping,” said Louis miserably.

“Irish Quarters!” yelled Niall, banging his fist on the  bar counter. “Who’s got coins?”

“Me, me,” said Louis, pulling out a handful and plopping them on the table.  “Alright Addie, here are the rules. Everyone spins their own coin. In that time, you gotta drink your cup of beer and refill it again before it stops spinning. It falls off, it stops spinning or something else goes wrong, then you get a dare you have to do.”

“Sounds good,” I said, squirming.  The blanket was still tightly wrapped around me.

Louis gave us each a beer bottle and a red cup, as well as a coin.

“Ready, set, spin!” he hooted, and I spun my coin. Only thing was, it didn’t spin. Instead, it skidded across the counter top and collided into Zayn’s.

“Wait- no!” Zayn choked, “Doesn’t count! Addie doesn’t know how to spin a bloody coin!”

“It does,” Louis chortled, already pouring his refill cup of beer. Liam, Niall and Louis were still drinking and refilling.

“Done!” exclaimed Niall first, his beer slopping over his hand.

“Done!” echoed Louis, just before Liam finished. They all grabbed their still-spinning coins.

“Zayn and Addie lose,” laughed Liam, “Dare each, guys.”

“Zayn, kiss Addie,” said Louis with a wicked grin. I swallowed and glanced nervously at Zayn, who was regarding me with raised eyebrows.

“What do you say, Selley?”

“I say, I think I’m ready for bed,” I tried, turning to jump off my stool but Zayn grabbed my shoulders and clung on to me, making me stay.

“Whoa, you don’t get to leave until your bottle’s done,” he chortled, yanking me back onto my stool. With a guilty frown, I turned back to them.

“Come on, don’t be a bad sport,” ribbed Louis with a cheeky grin. “Just pash and get it over with.” For some reason, I caught eyes with Niall for just a split second. Blue to my brown. I looked away quickly, turning back to my bottle.

“Oh come on,” groaned Liam, rapping the table impatiently.

“Can’t we have another dare?”

“Nope. Zayn, just do it, mate.”

“No! Zayn, don’t,” I said, trying to laugh it off.

“Selley to be honest, I don’t mind,” replied Zayn, leaning closer to me with a small smile. I blinked at him, a little blankly, before quickly shaking my head.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I replied, “I’m sick, and-”  Zayn made an impatient noise and pressed his lips against mine. It was only for a moment, and there was no tongue, but underneath all of that, there was something that made my heart jump unexpectedly.

When we pulled away, Louis was hooting and Liam was laughing. Zayn grinned at me, then grabbed his coin.

“Next time, don’t hit my coin,” he advised and I stared at him, still not quite able to formulate actual words.

“Bad for publicity,” I muttered under my breath and Zayn chuckled. As we started the next round, I finally noticed Niall. He was sitting there, eyes fixated on his coin, his hand by his side balled up into a fist.
 

*


The days of tour passed by surprisingly fast. It was concerts, interviews, tons of crazy screaming fans, the clubbing and occasionally the boys and I spending a somewhat more subdued and peaceful night in the hotel.

However, my fever was getting worse.

It was nearing the end of the tour, and I still had to spend my evenings cooped up in the hotel room to get better. It still wasn’t working. The boys were heading out to some fancy sounding club probably to have an amazing time, get smashed and get laid tonight. All while, I sat in the hotel room, watching pay TV. I rummaged through the food, finding nothing before I opened the freezer. I dug around until my fingers found something unexpected. I yanked it out.

It was a box of potato pies. And there was a posted note on it, labelled Niall’s.

That son of a bitch. I cranked the oven on and set about making my potato pie. I shoved it in and settled down for my movie. I wasn’t expecting the boys to get home until past midnight, and it was only about eleven when I took out my steaming delicious potato pie which I’d been craving hopelessly.

I had just popped my medication, and started licking the mashed potato off my fork when the door smashed open. When I say smashed, I mean smashed. Why was I not surprised when Niall stormed in? I sat up quickly, holding my potato pie possessively to my chest. He could trample on my dignity, but I drew the line at my potato pie.

He was wearing jeans with a plain t-shirt, running his hand continuously through his hair aggravatedly. I could just feel his attitude from where I sat. He crossed across to the bar, yanked out a bottle and chugged half of it without taking a breath.

“What the fuck is that?” he asked, setting the bottle down with a bang and staring at my plate.

“A potato pie,” I said quietly, in a meek voice.
 

“A what?”

“A potato pie!” I said louder, raising my chin slightly higher as if daring him to confront me. Which of course, he did.

“Is that my potato pie?” he demanded, storming over and looking furious.

“You don’t own the potato pie,” I replied sharply, shovelling a forkful of potato into my mouth just to spite him.

“It had my name on it!” he spat.

“No,” I snapped staunchly, tightening my grip. “No, you stuck a note with your name on it.”

“Why the fuck are you eating my food?” he snarled, leaning down and trying to grab the plate off me. Oh, fuck no.

“Gr- let go!” He won eventually, wrenching it out of my grasp and threw it onto the table with a clatter.

“What are you gonna about it, Addie?” he sneered, “You gonna go running to cousin Harry? What about mummy or daddy?” The rib about my family my eyes prickle with tears. He just laughed at me.

 “You’re a whore,” he laughed bitterly. "A cheap slut. The fans are right you know. I see all that stuff they write about you, and wouldn’t you guess it? They’re all right. I’m too good for some fucking whore like you.” I stared down at my lap, trying not to let show how distressed I was. I didn’t want to explode at him, or go crazy. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of letting him know how upset I was.

“How did I even had such shit chances? I just wanted a good time. But of all my luck, the first free fuck I get is the Manchester whore!" he leered. I flinched visibly at his loose use of the word, and he knew as well. That’s why he kept saying it.

“Just leave me alone,” I muttered, getting up, tossing my blanket to the side and trying to escape possibly to the bathroom.

“Sit down,” he snapped, grabbing my shoulders and shoving me forcefully back down onto the couch. “Where you belong.” I swallowed thickly. All of a sudden it felt really warm.

“I need a cup of water.”

“Didn’t you hear me?” he said loudly, “You’re not going anywhere. Don’t try to run from me, don’t try dobbing me in to your cousin. He’s my mate. No one’s going to believe you.”

“I-I need a drink,” I stammered, “My…I’ve got a fever and…”

“You’re not getting anything!” he snapped, picking up my pie. “You want your fucking potato pie, Addie? Well, here you go.” I didn’t even have time to brace myself before he was smashing the pie on top of my head. I sat in silence for a few moments, shocked that he’d actually just done that. Then he started laughing cruelly again. He knew the others wouldn’t be home for a while, so he had as long as he wanted to torture me for.
 

I could feel the thick mashed potato in my hair as I tried to brush the rest of it out. It fell into a messy glop on the floor. Swiftly, I tried to throw the blanket and scramble away. I swallowed, formulating words in my mouth.

“Fuck you,” I hissed, and he seethed angrily. I genuinely thought he was going to hit me for a few moments. I had prepared myself for the strike, recoiled. “You…you’ve been nothing but a dickhead.”

“What?” he hissed, leaning down and grabbing my wrist, squeezing painfully.

“Leave me alone!” I yelled, trying desperately to yank myself out of his possessive grasp.

"You have been nothing but a bitch! WHORE!" he snarled in my face. My eyes widened and I lunged at him, trying to punch every bit of him I could reach.

"Fuck...you...little...urgh, fuck you!" I yelled, turning and throwing another book at him as he tried to retreat. “COME AT ME YOU LITTLE FUCK!”

“YOU WANT ME TO HURT YOU?” he yelled back, shoving me even harder back onto the couch. My head smacked into the stiff arm rest of the couch and it ached dully. “Back off while you can, or you’re really gonna get it!”

“I don’t care anymore!” I shouted, “I don’t know why the hell you hate me so goddamn much, what have I ever bloody done to you?”

“You did this,” he sneered, “What the fuck this, this ‘arrangement’ is? You act like you can cope with the flack, then you fuck around with everyone else cos you can’t deal with it!”

“It’s not my fault you can’t keep it in your pants!” I screeched, and he closed in on me. He threw the blanket over my head, disorientating me before striking me blindly. The hit took a second to register, the sting on my cheek and the dots forming before my eyes under the itchy material.
 

I tossed the blanket off, and launched myself at him, scratching and clawing at every available inch of skin. He threw me off, as I skidded across the room and my head collided into a bar stool. They clattered over loudly in a domino effect as he started to advance on me again. I scrambled off my back, turning and crawling as fast as I could towards the dining table.

I had just pulled myself to my feet and grabbed the bottle of water when he was grabbing my shoulders. I whipped around, swinging with the thing wildly and I gasped as it shattered, tinkling around our feet and coating us both in water. Shards of glass were everywhere, and I could see a small patch of blood near his ear, staining his hair.

I shoved him away from me, hands slippery. I staggered away, towards the bathroom where at least I knew I could lock myself away from him.

“WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING?” Bang. He struck on the side of my neck, but the effect of the hit was so shocking, I keeled over sideways and collapsed. My vision blacked out, my hearing turned to high pitched ringing, but I was still very much conscious. I tried to scream out, but I couldn’t hear myself. By the time my hearing was coming back and my vision was clearing, he was towering over me, anger in his eyes and the sound of my voice was almost unrecognisable. I wasn’t sure what he was trying to do, probably claw my eyes out.

“GET THE HELL OFF ME!” I screamed, throwing myself around wildly and trying to squirm out of his grip. “I’M TIRED OF DEALING WITH THE CRAP YOU…YOU PUT ME THROUGH- NIALL HORAN!”

When I yelled his name, he faltered for a moment and I took advantage of the moment. I kneed him in the stomach, causing him to groan, before I kicked him viciously as I could in the gut, scrambling to my feet and throwing myself across the bar counter. I got shakily to my feet so see him getting to his own, and I wrenched the cabinet open, hurling the first bottle at him. It missed, but shattered near his feet. As he moved closer and closer, my throws became more and more inaccurate.

Finally, he was scrambling over the counter, holding my hands behind my back with one of his hand, his other squashing my cheeks to a point of pain. He raised his hand and next, it had come down on my face causing hot tears to erupt into my tears. Gasping, I struggled to get away, colliding my back into the alcohol cabinet and feeling the glass shattering around me, cutting my back and drawing blood.

The thought crossed my mind that we were going to kill each other.

Next thing I knew, he was dragging me along the ground by my feet to the centre of the room.

“I’m going to make you suffer like you made me,” he snarled, even though I had no idea what the hell he was talking about. I had never made him suffer.

“Stop, no please-” I begged, sobbing heavily. My back felt like I was still being continually stabbed, my vision was blurry with tears and the not-quite worn off shock from being hit.

“Shut up, bitch!” he snapped, grabbing my hair and yanking on it, facing me to look up at him. Oh god, he was going to kill me. This was it. I had lost to him, again. I could never win. He was sitting on my chest, pinning me down. I wheezed, unable to breathe. Man, he was heavy. My chest hurt, I think a few of my ribs were broken.

I squeezed my eyes shut tightly. After a few moments, nothing happened. What the hell was he waiting for? I dared to open my eyes just a fraction. He was still sitting there, his hands holding my arms down so he was leaning over me intimidatingly. His eyes were fixed on my face; my red and watery eyes, feverish hot flushed skin, and my cheek welling from his hits. They were still a beautiful bright blue.

I hated him. But I hated myself more. Maybe because I did because of who I was, or how I still felt some sort of humanity towards someone so primal and destructive.

I swallowed. His heavy breathing was slowing now, his blonde hair, drenched with sweat and blood flopping over his forehead.

“Niall…” I breathed shakily, terrified of what he might do. He exhaled deeply, and I shut my eyes again. I felt him climb off me, the feeling of being able to breathe again rushing to my head along with my blood flow. I didn’t open my eyes, not as I heard him stagger to the bathroom, the rush of the tap, before the front door was slamming shut.

I lay there, just like that on the floor of the suite for god knows how long. I was only roused by the sound of the door opening again. For a split second, I was terrified that Niall had returned to continue his meaningless and confusing assault, but the fear was soon extinguished as I heard four familiar voices, all in horror and alarm as they rushed to me.

Liam was yelling panicky, trying to see if he should call the ambulance, Louis was freaking out and asking where the hell Niall was and I could only assume that the reassuring squeeze of my hand was Zayn. 

"We've got to resuscitate her!" yelped Harry, shoving everybody out of the way. "Who remembers First Aid? Er, wait there was...COWS. Addie, can you hear me? Open your eyes. What's your name- that's one stupid, squeeze my hand!"

"Harry," I whispered, opening my eyes and sitting up. I hugged him tightly and I heard him gasp in relief.

"Addie, oh my god what the hell was that?" he gasped, clinging to me. Zayn still held onto my hand as Harry wrapped his arms around me protectively. "I thought you were dead."

"I felt dead," I croaked.

"What happened to you? Where's Niall?" he asked, and new tears sprung to my eyes. Niall. I was breaking down infront of these poor guys. Harry shooed the rest of them away to go find Niall as he held me comfortingly, my head propped up against his chest as his arms were wrapped around my shoulders and his hand was rustling my hair.

He didn't have to say a thing.

 

 

 

 

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