I Don't Like You (Harry Styles Fanfic)

"Get a clue you douche, i'm not into you! Leave me alone!" I snapped cruelly. He shook his head in frustration. "I don't get why you don't like me..." I sighed angrily. "I dont even know you!" "How could you not know me?" "Am I supposed to know you?" "Yes! I'm Harry Styles! I'm famous!" he yelled, moving closer to my face. "Well guess what pretty boy, I don't give a shit," I spat, turning my back to him and walking away. "What the hell, come back! We need to settle this!" he called after me. "Dude, leave me alone!" "Why aren't you like the other girls? Just give in and say that you like me!" I stopped walking and turned to face him. "You're pathetic Harry Styles, and I pity the girls that apparently die over the thought of you. Reality check, you're the ugliest man in the world for being this conceited, and I'd be suprised if any girl was stupid enough to date you." I smiled as I walked away with his mouth hanging wide open. Douche bag...


2. Chapter 2

"Whoa whoa whoa, hold up!" he grabbed my hand and made me face him. I yanked it out of his grip and huffed. "Dude, what's your problem?" I questioned him with one eyebrow raised. I don't have much experience with talking to people, but I watch a lot of tv, so I do know a little somethin.

His eyes looked at me, confused. "I thought you wanted my autograph sweet lips." Sweet lips? Who the hell does he think he is? "Excuse me, but I really have to go," I spoke hurriedly and tried to walk away but he grabbed my hand again.

"What's wrong with you? Don't you know who I am?" he asked while I struggled to get away. No one was around because I take a short cut around the buildings to get to the subway quicker.

This guy needed to let go. "Can you please let go of me?" He smirked.

"Why would I? This must be the best thing that has ever happened to you!"

Now I was freaked out. "Hey jackass, let go!" I stopped struggling and kicked him in the balls. He fell to the ground slowly, holding his crotch.

When he started to stand back up, I slapped him as hard as I could, and he collapsed again. It was then that I noticed his eyes were a pinkish color.

Oh crap...he's drunk... 

"Do I know you?" His voice slurred. I looked down at him, and he was already passed out. Great. Just wonderful. 

I shook him a little and he awoke again.

"W-where am I? Who are you?" I should've just left him there, but of course, I couldn't. So I helped him up, lifting him from under his armpits and pulled his left arm around my neck to support him.

He just looked around wearily as we started to walk back to my apartment. MY apartment. No one has ever been in there before. But I know that I can't stay like this forever. It's been 12 years since they... nevermind.

As we approached my apartment, he started to hold his stomach with his hand. 

"Are you okay?" I asked him. Why was I so concerned? I was unlocking my door when he made a gagging noise. Ohhhh no.

I quickly pushed open my door and rushed him to my bathrooms toilet while lifting up the seat just in time. 

He threw up violently as I softly rubbed his back in circle motions.

"Just let it out," I spoke as soothingly as I could. After he was done, he laid back onto me, wrapping his arms around my neck while barrying his face in my chest. I could feel his hot tears running down my neck. 

Why did I let a stranger come into my house?

I rubbed his arm and helped him stand up again. He shook a little bit, so I grasped his waist and held him up with all of my might. 

I walked him over to my bed and lifted the comforters up. My comforters are white and super fluffy so I was hesitant to let him sleep in it, but I did anyways because if I was in this situation, I'd want someone to do this for me too.

I pulled off his shoes and helped him take off his leather jacket and put both of his things on my love seat right next to him. It hardly looked like he was awake, and I was doing most of the work, but I guess that's okay. 

Until he started pulling off his shirt.

I laid him down slowly and pulled the comforters up to his shoulders. His eyes were drowsy and started closing. I saw all of the tattoos on his chest, and I know it sounds weird, but I really just wanted to run my hands over the art created there.

I left to my bathroom closet and pulled out a wash cloth while heating it up with warm water under the faucet and squeezing it out. Quickly, I walked back over to him and folded the washcloth and put it on his head gently.

His eyes opened when I shut all of my blinds. I turned around to find him staring at me, and gave him a teeny weeny smile as I started to walk out of the room.

"Please stay." The raspiness in his voice stood out. It was probably sore from throwing up that hard.

I knew that I had to stay though. I didn't want him to steal my stuff and escape from my window... which could happen...

So I went to my kitchen and carried a chair over to my room and set it down next to him. With that he grabbed my hand slowly and held it firmly as he literally fell asleep in the next second.

What did I do...


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