They Call Me Angel (One Direction Fanfic)

Hurt

"I've never had one of these before." She said her voice full of awe. I was confused and then realized what she meant.

"You're own room?" I tried to clarify. She shook her head. Okay, now I was really confused.

"A bed." Oh gosh that poor girl. Everyone looked really sad now so I knew that it was time for superman to save the day.

"Let's make pancakes!" I suddenly yelled. Everyone gave me a weird look.

"Pancakes? For dinner?" Zayn asked with his eyebrow raised.

"Duh! Where have you been? Pancakes for breakfast is so last year!" I said in a snobbish voice and pretended to flip my hair. Angel burst out laughing and I felt like I'd won the lottery.

Angel's P.O.V.

*Midnight*

The sound of crying woke me up. Well, not really woke me up, I was awake anyways but the crying had caught my attention. When I got out of bed, Scooby looked at me with his ears perked but I signaled him to lay down.

I slowly crept down the hallway to the room next to mine, where the crying was coming from. On the door, the name Harry was painted on it. Why was Harry crying?

I opened the door to find Harry on his bed with a laptop in front of him tears streaming down his face. It broke my heart to see the sweet Cheshire boy crying. Well, actually it broke my heart to see anyone crying but this affected me more as Harry had been so nice to me during dinner. Already I'd learned that Harry was made out to be the player in the group but in reality he was a sweet boy, cheeky, but sweet all the same.

Harry's head snapped up when I entered the room, frantically wiping his face to rid it of any traitorous tears.  " Oh hey Angel, did I wake you up?  Oh gosh I'm sorry, I'm such a an idiot, what kind of person am I, waking people up in the middle of the night?"  Harry kept rambling on trying to distract me from the fact that I saw him crying.

"  I wasn't asleep Harry and don't think you can distract me so easily." I said as I walked over to his bed and turned the laptop to face me.  What I saw filled me with rage.  On his screen were things like:

Harry Styles should go die in a hole!

Harry Styles is an untalented fag!

If I sang as bad as Harry Styles, I would kill myself!

I glanced over the laptop at Harry and his eyes were avoiding mine, almost shamefully.

"  Harry, do you actually believe this rubbish?"  I asked incredulously.  He just nodded his head.  I sighed in exasperation.

"  Harry, who are you?"  I asked him.  He gave me a confused look.

"  Harry Styles..."  He answered cautiously as if it were a trick question.

"  Harry Styles, what do you do for a living?"

"  I sing in One Direction."

"  So, Harry Styles of internationally famous boy band One Direction, do you know who these people are?"  I asked referring to the people who made these comments.

"  ...No?..."

"  These people are nobodies who are so insanely jealous of your pure talent their life goal is to try and make you feel bad about yourself.  Even though they know that none of this garbage is true, they feel so disappointed in their own noticeable lack of talent that they just can't help but try and drag you down with them."  I told him, meaning every word of it.  Harry wrapped me up in a hug that I stiffly returned, still not used to friendly contact.  With tears still running down his face, he layed his head down in my lap and I rubbed his back soothingly.  I let out a low whistle that somewhat resembled a dove's call.  On command, Scooby trotted into the room with my ukulele gingerly held in his mouth.  He placed it on the bed and went back to my room.  Harry watched me curiously as I strummed it gently and began to sing softly;