I Didn't Want To Be Saved (Harry Styles Fanfiction)

Chapter Four

Harry?

The name Harry made me think of some well mannered school boy, like Harry Potter, or Prince Harry, not this rude man with the moody look and the lip ring that he kept balancing between his teeth.

He still stood near me, and I turned towards him. His eyes began to narrow and his face turned dark. What had I done now?

"What the fucks wrong with your face?" He spat, still glaring at me like it was my fault.

I touched my cheek and winced in pain. Harry took a few strides until he was close to me, not taking his dark green eyes off my swollen cheek.

"Fucking answer me" his eyes were alight with pure anger. Why did he care anyway? He grabbed my wrist and brought pulled me towards him, still staring at my cheek. He was uncomfortably close to me, making me pull my arm out of his grip, and slowly back away, avoiding looking at his intense green eyes.

"Why do you insist on knowing everything!? Why do you care?" I yelled, I didn't want Harry involved in this, or anyone. He stared at me for a second, not answering. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, playing with his lip ring before speaking.

"I don't" he said "I don't care about anyone" said Harry, his face neutral with no emotion, and I knew he wasn't lying.

"See you round, Sammy" he smirked, and turned on his heel and walked away from me without a backward glance.

That was odd and a bit out of character. I sat on the cold metal bench, hoping Michael would be here soon. Just as I was thinking it, the familiar dark blue Ford pulled up onto the path down the road, and the driver door opened revealing the purple-haired boy, looking around frantically for me.

When he saw me he ran towards me and I stood up, throwing my arms in front of me and enveloping him in a hug. He seemed surprised at first, but eventually hugged me back. I felt a lump in my throat like I was about to cry. Michael seemed to sense it, and stroked my back, his colourful hair tickling my face.

We broke apart and he put his arm round me as we walked to the car.

"Sam, whats happened? Whats wrong with your cheek?" he said, as I climbed into the passenger seat.

My silence was enough of an answer for him and his green eyes darkened as the realization of what probably happened hit him in the face.

"Sam" he barley whispered. "It was him again, wasn't it? I told you to move out and stay far away from that man after the last time this happened."

"Mikey, it's not that simple and you know it" I sighed, turning my gaze away from the worried face and resting my head against the cold glass. As Michael started the car, I closed my eyes and began to drift off.

*

"Sam, wake up, we're here"

I woke to Michael gently poking my arm and I laughed lightly at his feeble attempt at waking me up. I was still weak from nearly drowning, so when I stood up from the car a dizziness washed over me and I fell backwards against the car door. My head was pounding.

Michael put one arm around my waist and the other under my legs and carried me bridal style up to his flat.

When we reached his door, he put me down so he could get his keys out and I leaned my head against the wall, craving to be in a nice warm bed. Once the door was unlocked, I followed Michael into his living room and sat down on the old second-hand sofa we'd once bought together from someone's garage sale a few years back.

"Is Calum here?" I wondered, idly looking around for any sign of Michael's roommate.

"Uh no, he's out with Olivia tonight" he smiled, probably thinking the same as me.

We set them up on a date together a few months back after they were both complaining about wanting someone to 'share movie night with', and ever since they have been the cutest couple ever.

"Do you wanna sleep in my bed? Or are you okay on the sofa?" Asked Michael, unfolding a spare bedsheet.

I really did not want to be alone right now.

"This might sound weird, but erm, could I sleep with you? Like, in your bed, with you?" I asked him quietly.

"Uhhh, yeh o-okay, sure, I'll give you a shirt you can wear and I'll leave to get dressed." He smiled at me and left to grab a shirt from his room. Michael was nothing but nice to me and I suddenly felt so guilty at the fact that I almost left him for good. I couldn't do that to him, ever.

After we were ready and Michael had gotten some leftover pizza for us to eat, we climbed into bed and Michael wrapped his arm around my waist, his breath soft against my neck.

"So are you going to tell me what happened today? What made him hit you this time?" asked Michael softly.

"Tomorrow." I mumbled, too tired to form full sentences.

But I needed to tell him. We told each other everything, but I worried that telling Michael this would be different. I needed to tell him that my step father hit me because I was late, and I was late because, well.

I couldn't keep something like this a secret.

"M-Mikey?" I whimpered, sitting up slowly in the bed, Michael following my actions.

"Mhhm."

"I t-tried to kill myself today."