guardian angel. ( harry styles )

Ah, Harry Styles. I will always struggle to find the words to describe him. He is a mess, a reject, he is searching for love. He is a saving grace, a reason, a light in the darkness. His saviour? Well, that's yours to figure out. My name is Crash Michigan, and this is how Harry Styles ruined, but at the same time, completed my life. Plot idea (c) whereweare_ 2014


2. chapter two - 'harry, harry styles.'

A/N: hey there! I'm maddi, and I like to write. This is my fourth attempt at a fanfic, soo here it goes, chapter two!

Crash's POV

I stared at the boy in front of me, my eyes widening in shock. He was drop dead gorgeous.

Even with a variety of cuts, bruises, and what looked like a broken cheekbone, his bright green eyes were utterly captivating, and his curls framed his face in a manner I can only call sexy. This boy stared back at me, unashamed. His eyes, although beautiful, read no emotion.

My mother cleared her throat, stepping towards the boy. 'Hello, my name is Marissa, and I am your doctor for now. This is my assistant, Crash.' My mother started, expecting the boy to offer his name in return. He stayed silent, his eyes fixed on me. I shifted, uncomfortable under the intense gaze. 'Uh, may I have your name?' I stuttered, meekly.

The boy seemed to consider, his gaze breaking from me and shifting to his bed. 'Harry, Harry Styles.' He muttered. We raised our eyebrows, motioning for him to continue, 'I'm 23, I live here.' He said, his voice raising to a normal volume as he kept on speaking. 'I got in a bar fight, the little prick who started it obvi-' My mom cut him off, coughing. 'That's enough, Mr. Styles. May I assess your wounds?' She asked. 'No,' he replied, bluntly, 'but she can.' He smirked, motioning directly to me.

'But she's only 21, she's an assistant-' she spluttered, shocked at the response. Harry's eyes darkened, narrowing at my mother. 'I said, she can.' He hissed, angrily. I quickly stepped in, anxious to defend the bo- my mother. I smiled politely at Harry, staring pleadingly at my mother. 'Fine.' She grumbled. Harry smirked, satisfied. 'Oh, and... I would like us to be alone.' He grinned, his voice seductively raspy. My mother opened her mouth to protest, but the glare the boy directed at her sent her cowering. My mother scurried out, and I was left alone with the terrifying boy.

'Well, doctor, come and give me your assessment.' He smirked, cheekily. I nodded, walking to the side of his bed. He sat crosslegged on the crisp, white sheets, his black jeans torn and stained. His shirt was red with what I assumed was the other man's blood, as his wounds weren't significant enough to warrant the massive red stains. 'May I touch your face, sir?' I asked, politely. 'Call me Harry, and you can touch me wherever you want, babe.' He flirted, licking his cracked lips.

'Uh, okay... Harry.' I mumbled, touching his face gently with a gloved hand. I probed his right cheekbone, quickly withdrawing as he winced, sucking in a hasty breath. 'Sorry!' I yelped, apologising profusely. Harry shrugged. I scribbled on my clipboard, noting that he most likely had a cracked cheekbone. 'Will you be seeking further treatment, s- Harry?' I asked, probing the left side on his face. It seemed a a if the right side had received a majority of the damage.

'No.' He said, shortly. I nodded, squeaking disdainfully as I dropped my pen. I turned away from him, bending over to grab it. I felt something slide into the rear pocket of my jeans, making me hastily stand up. 'Um..?' I asked, placing a hand on my hip. 'What? You have a nice ass.' He shrugged, smirking seductively. I shook my head, pulling the piece if paper out of my pocket.

It read a number, which was clearly listed as Harry Styles in neat, scrawling cursive. I pursed my lips, raising an eyebrow. Suddenly, my mother came in. I hastily stuffed the number in my pocket, rolling my eyes at Harry as he sent me another sly grin. 'What's the diagnosis, doc?' Harry asked, for my mother. 'Broken cheekbone and a hairline fracture in the nose.' I announced, satisfied with my developments.

'So, we won't be seeing you again, Mr Styles?' My mother asked. 'No.' He replied, getting up from the bed. I looked at my mother, shrugging at her. 'I'll walk you out, Har- I mean, Mr, Styles.' I blushed, walking quickly to keep up with the tall boy. When we reached the door of the surgery, he turned to me. I cowered under his tall frame, only standing a measly 5ft 4. He leaned down, before hotly whispering in my ear- 'See you soon, Crash.'

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