Sticks and Stones - A Larry Stylinson fanfiction [boyxboy]

Chapter Nineteen

Well, sorry... and I mean absolutely sorry for this awful, poorly written and tardy update. But exams have taken everything out of me. Oh well...

Read! Vote! Comment! Fan! Love Larry Stylinson!

xoxooxoxoxo Hailey

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There was once a volcano that burned hot and bright, with the intensity of the sun and the passion of insipid flames licking at its core. Its magma pooled like liquid heat and bubbled without consequence, pressing against the rocks and making days long and hot.

            But volcanoes are insatiable and the oxygen can only do so much to keep the fire within them burning, so without any further ado, the volcano stilled and waited in the humid island air. Until one day a beautiful islander found the volcano.

            You see, people don’t just stumble upon what needs to be found for absolutely no reason, the universe leads them there—and on that day the humid air stirred her dizzy and guided her towards the volcano.

            Not even a week earlier had her own village banished her into the rainforest, with flowers gilded in her hair and laced through her fingers and set her out into her own accords. Burn hot, burn bright, burn day, burn night. Let heat come forward, let heat ensue, luck for us, sacrificed by you. This is what they’d told the beautiful girl with the long black hair before she was left for the eyes of the earth. Her feet bare and black as they were sodden with dirt.

            So on the very first day of the year, she stood before the red hot sea and gazed into its depths. For it was the beginning; and it was the end. It would be her fiery death, for her village’s birth—and for the first time the volcano stirred upon the beauty of the islander, ashamed at the heat it brought forth for mere human warmth. The longing it felt not to burn new bones, but to feel beauty and to know love.

            But the islander was aghast at the volcano too, amazed by the dryness and the power it demanded. Determined not to die, and not to evaporate for the love of the earth. But the volcano yearned for her body and she for it, but it was not right, but to be. She revelled in the glorious feel of the volcano’s searing hot kisses upon her tanned sun-licked skin and she praised, and adored it too much to be availed.

            When suddenly, the sky began to spit, to pour cold kisses upon hot skin and upon burning sea that fed her fire. The volcano grew jealous as she sucked in fresh air and felt contrast upon his islander’s skin without consent. The volcano feared that the girl would be lost as she wandered in a daze towards the ocean, a trance of sad proportions.