Harry Styles One Shots

Hate

WARNING - SELF HARM
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Harry and I had the kind of relationship people dream about. He was everything I could ever hope for—understanding, forgiving, protective in the best way, and unbelievably sweet. If there were such a thing as the perfect guy, Harry would be it. He made my life brighter and gave me someone to love in a way I didn't think was possible.

No matter the time or place, Harry was just a call away. He would drop everything for me, no questions asked. In the past, when I needed someone or even when I just felt like talking, he showed up without fail. And whenever I let my guard down, even just a little, I could see how happy it made him. He was just happy that I was telling him something that he knew I wouldn't trust with anyone.

Still, for reasons I couldn't fully explain, I struggled to open up completely. I hated it—hated the way it felt like a wall between us when I knew all he wanted was for me to be as vulnerable with him as he was with me. Over time, I think we both came to accept that it's just how I am. Even with the people I trust the most, sharing my thoughts, my insecurities, feels like an uphill battle.

And lately, it's been harder than ever.

The hateful messages I'd been receiving on Instagram and Twitter were relentless. At first, I could brush them off, but over time, their words started sinking in, like water seeping into cracks I didn't know I had. I knew their comments weren't true, yet they lingered, whispering doubts into the quiet corners of my mind.

"You're not pretty enough for him. How could he love you?"

"You're so annoying. Harry deserves better."

"You should save him the trouble and leave."

I'd never been particularly secure in my appearance or my worth. Their words hit the cracks and widened them, feeding into fears I thought I'd buried long ago. It wasn't just the messages themselves—it was how they echoed my own inner thoughts. Deep down, I couldn't help but feel like maybe they were right. Harry deserved someone extraordinary, someone who could give him everything, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I fell short.

Coming into this relationship I knew it was going to be hard and I knew I was going to receive a massive amount of hate. Most likely for no reason at all, I just don't think it ever dawned on me that it could be this bad.

At first it wasn't that bad, of course some people were surprised that Harry chose me to date. I mean, I am too, but slowly, it turned into people hating me for it. Everyday the words just seem to stick in my head more and more. They would just float around and I can never push them away. Then those thoughts of other people's opinions slowly became my own. I swear I will be my own downfall one day.

I tried to shake off those thoughts as my phone buzzed, pulling me from the spiral. I reached over to the nightstand, the brightness of the screen cutting through the dim room. A smile crept onto my face when I saw the name flashing—Gemma. It had been a while since we'd caught up, and I missed her.

"Hello!" I answered, letting a cheerful tone mask the storm brewing inside.

"Hey, (Y/N)! I've got a question for you," Gemma said, her voice warm and lively, as always. I could practically hear her grin through the phone.

"Shoot," I replied, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed.

"Since Harry's at the studio, how about some girl time? Shopping, nails—whatever you're in the mood for." The sound of water running and dishes clinking in the background made it clear she was multitasking.

"That sounds perfect," I agreed instantly, hoping a day out would help me clear my head. "Let's do both. My wardrobe needs a serious refresh, and my nails are a disaster."