Hated (A 1D fanfic)

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  • Rating:
  • Published: 1 May 2013
  • Updated: 19 Feb 2014
  • Status: Complete
Sawyer hates the thought of school simply because they are there.
Yep, the thought of them gives her chills.
Who am I talking about?
The one and only Louis Tomlinson and his girlfriend Stacey Porter.


22. Spills

*Sawyer's point of view*

It'd been six weeks since I'd started tutoring with Louis, and I'd worn long sleeves the whole time. Those cuts I'd made, I'd gone deep. I was left with several dark scars on my wrist. 

But things had gotten much better. Of course, I was still freaked out by the idea of driving, but things were good. I hung out with Clay friends a lot, and people talked to me more. I wasn't that outcast loser girl that I'd been, which felt good. Not eating lunch alone, that was the best feeling of all. I sat with Clay, Louis, Zach, and those other guys. 

And my grades, they'd improved so much. I was passing all of my classes, and I even had all but one of my classes pulled up to an A or a B. 

Of course things couldn't stay perfect for long. 

I got into Louis's car, and turned on the radio. "Ugh, I hate this song." He says, frowning and changing it.

"Why? It's popular." I ask.

"And?" He replies, flicking through the channels. "Not all popular songs are good songs."

"Well, I guess I agree with that." I say as he picks a channel. "Holy shit, I love this song!" I say as Cooler than me came on. 

"I do, too." He replies, grinning. "Be prepared for some terrible singing." 

We sang the song the whole ride to his house, and he laughed when we got out of the car. "God, you are a terrible singer!" He complains, and I laughed. 

"Hey, don't be mean!" I say, laughing. "Not everyone can be as good as you. By the way, you're an amazing singer. Like, why doesn't anyone know?"

"Thanks, and I guess I just never really sang in front of anyone." He replies as we walk into his house. We walk through the kitchen, and a mess is everywhere. "Oh my god, Phoebe! What happened?" 

"Fizzy tried to cook." She says, laughing. 

"Oh, god. Sawyer, would you mind helping her clean this up while I go and try to find Fizzy?" He asks me, and I nod. The girls had grown to like me, and I didn't mind helping. 

Phoebe sat up on the counter, trying to wipe up some cake batter-looking goop off of it, while I squatted in the floor and tried to clean it. Bless her heart, she was trying. But instead of cleaning it up, she just pushed it off of the counter onto the floor, and all over my shirt.

"I'm so sorry, Sawyer!" She cries, noticing my shirt.

"Hey, it's okay." I say, smiling just as Louis came in with Fizzy.

"Clean." He says to her, and she rolls her eyes. I stood up, and Louis sighed noticing my shirt. 

Instead of looking like the gray sweater I was wearing, it looked like a stained mess. My black leggings and maroon high-tops were fine, but my sweater was nasty. 

"Okay, um, Sawyer, follow me." He sighs, looking at my shirt. I obeyed, and he led me to a laundry room. He handed me a green t-shirt with Tomlinson 17 on the back, and nodded, leaving the room. 

I slipped off my dirty sweater, and pulled on his soccer t-shirt. He walked back in, and I handed me my sweater. "I'm sorry about that. Fizzy messy, Phoebe is messy, and this was the first thing I grabbed." He says, tossing my shirt into the washing machine. 

"Hey, it happens." I say, laughing. I reached up to run my fingers through my hair, and he noticed it. I didn't even think about them, but he noticed.

"Sawyer, what happened to your wrist?" He asks, and I sigh.

"Oh, nothing." I lie, putting my arm back down.

"Sawyer, show me." He said to me, but I shook my head. "Sawyer."

I did, and a tear welled up in my eye. He let out a deep sigh, and shut the door to the laundry room. 

He ran his hand through his hair, and starred into my eyes. "Was this my fault?"

I chewed on my lip, and looked down at my toes.

"No." He said, breathing out. "I fucking did this to you."

"It wasn't all your fault, I-" I started, but he cut me off.

"Don't lie to me." He sighed. I looked up into his eyes, and they were watery. 

I didn't say anything, and he closed his eyes. "Sawyer, I-" He started but didn't finish. He sat for a moment, eyes closed. "Can you ever forgive me?"

"I already have." I say, but he sighs. 

"But you shouldn't have." He said, setting down with his back against the wall. I sat across from him, and he starred into my eyes "How long ago was it?"

"About six weeks. Back over the suspension." I say, and he chews my lip. "The day after the crash."

He sighs, and holds my hand to where he can see the scars. "I'm so sorry." He whispered over and over. 

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