And Now A Piece Of Me Is A Piece Of The Beach || larry stylinson

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Entrancing. Mesmerising. Unique. Exciting. Adventurous. Fascinating. Unpredictable. Whirlwind. Rush. Beautiful.

Ask Harry Styles to name the first ten words which come into his mind when he sees the sea and those will be his chosen ten.

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The wind's claws dug into the pinked, raw, exposed flesh of Harry's body. The blood in his hands rose to his skin, veins plump and cells red. The soles of his feet were being ripped apart with every step he took. With every dig of his heel in the grainy sand came that biting pleasure that Harry craved every second of the day. If he twisted a tad, he could feel the scratch tingle all the way up his body, curling around his ear and settling in a content ball by his temple. His hair was everywhere, whipping back and forth with each gust of wind that blew through the sky's lips. He was the definition of dishevelled and windswept, but the sea would not judge.

The sea was the kindest object of the world, Harry liked to think. It was always watching, yes, but never judging. It looked out with ever-changing blue eyes, sometimes soft, sometimes harsh. It could be flat when it fancied, slow and chilled. But it could be fierce, too. It could be wild, restless, and downright thrilling. The waves could crash with such force that you could be knocked over in one fell swoop. But they could also just pool around you, hugging your knees like a child wanting comfort. Either personality that the sea decided to portray that day would be a great comfort in itself. Whether it be gentle or brutal, it would never leave.

Most things in life leave. Practically everything does. People leave, walk away, forget, die. Things leave, get lost, get forgotten, decompose. But the sea, no, that always stays. Waves wash in and out, make their grand entrance in crashes and bounds; but they always come back. You look outside the window; the cars whizz down the road in a flash. Each person takes no notice as they step into your life for a second and then catapult out the next. But if you look outside the other window, the sea will still be there.

The comforting lapping of the water or the mind-washing sound of the rolling waves will never leave. And that is why Harry Styles never left.

If he took so much comfort and depended on the sea enough to treasure the fact that it never left, then surely he had to give something in return? That was what he thought when he was only a young boy who had only been on the earth a mere eight years. From the moment he had figured out that, yeah, this sea thing is pretty special, he had let it wiggle its way into the depths of his heart. His heart had not been filled with much back then (an amount worryingly similar to now), but the sea had buried itself in there with no intention of ever slipping away. He had vowed to never forget it, and to never let it feel forgotten.

Harry may have seemed mad to treat the sea like it were an actual being, he was fully aware of that, but the only one to know that was the sea itself and, well, it seemed to appreciate his intentions well enough. Or, at least, Harry pretended that it did, anyway. He talked to it, released his secrets into the cold rushing water, just as he would a person. He played with it, had the time of his life skimming the waves. He took comfort from it, watching and listening and being in its presence. He made the biggest decisions of his life with it, the waves whispering words of encouragement into his ears. In his eyes, the sea would always and forever be the one he would go to for support. It was the thing he trusted the most, and that would never change.

So there Harry was, padding his way through the battling elements to make his way down to the sea front. The salty smell of the water was overwhelming to his senses, invading his previously racing mind and dulling it to a chilled-out meander. He could feel the smell curling around his nostrils and making home in the crooks and crevices of his nose. Breathing in deeply, Harry let out a content sigh as the cold air washed through his system and the sense of being home returned well and full.