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

9

The crowd was thumping; the walls were vibrating. Limbs were languid, and sweat was stitched onto skin. Rugged strums of the guitar paired with synthesizer beats reverberated around the room, in time with the clatter of shoes on the floor. Everything was electric.

It may have been the weed in his lungs or the overwhelming thrill of the music, but Harry felt like he was on fire. It felt like the undulating waves that broke in his head had turned into thick, melted amber. The honey-like substance was glossy on the surface, yet underneath there was a grittiness which spread behind his eyes, a pure rawness that etched into his irises to make it feel real. It was hot under his skin. Its sleek body slithered through his veins and pulsed under his pores, bubbling too close to the surface. It was rare for Harry to feel such a rush outside of his home, away from the skin-inking burn of the waves.

The crowd seemed to roll together. Harry thought about how he felt like a water particle ready to take on its next formation, the most important one of all; the wave. He felt like he was gearing up for the big moment, whatever that was. They all moved in sync, like they were all readying themselves for the same thing. Yet Harry knew that he was not looking for the same thing as the girl sandwiched between two of her friends. He was not looking for what the bloke with the beard was searching for underneath the girl’s top. He was not looking for what Liam was longing for as he and Zayn gyrated together. Maybe Harry did not know what he was looking for, but he was sure that he would find out by the time the night ended.

The live band had a name that Harry had never heard of, something complex that was a lot to get his mouth around. Nick, though, seemed to know them and had insisted that they all go instead of ‘sitting around a lousy campfire for hours freezing your bollocks off’. Harry was not exactly fond of messing up the tradition, but Nick gave him those eyes and he was putty in his hands. Louis, though, the little terrier he was, nipped at Nick’s conscience and made sure that they went to gig after the campfire. Maybe that Friday night meant something to Louis. Harry had never even considered it.

So Harry was high and drunk. He was in amongst a pulsating crowd, and fire’s tongue was licking his skin dry. Regardless of not knowing the songs being played, he was thoroughly enjoying simply being.

A curvy body was pressed up against his, soft skin pliant against the ridges of his bones. Rumpled clothes rubbed together, scraping past each other and revealing either milky or honey flavoured flesh. The bass line thrummed in time with the rocking of their bodies back and forth. The keyboard sung in time with the circling of their hips. The kinks in the guitar’s voice were in time with the digging of Harry’s fingers on strong thighs. Synchronised.

Louis looked as enthralled as Harry, all toothy smiles underneath swollen lips and enlarged pupils revolutionising against the Coffee Blueness. The back of his neck was slick with sweat, and his hair was damp. Whenever he threw his head back onto Harry’s strong shoulder and caught his eye, he offered a lopsided smile that made him look totally and utterly blissed out.

His arse ground into Harry’s crotch filthily, and yet there was no intention of it progressing. Inhibitions were lost in the billows of smoke from their mouths a while previous and restraints were unlocked. The music infected their minds and kept them chained to it, chained together. The end of the night was not yet in sight, and therefore, no epilogue had been written.

The singer, voice thick with a Scottish accent, spoke through the raucous cheering with words which made Louis swivel around with an animated expression. He looked completely thrilled by the exclamation. “Some may have heard us do this cover before, this is Teenage Dirtbag.”

“I fuckin’ love this song!” Louis shouted, face worn underneath yet elated on the surface. Harry grinned back at him, a wide smile stretching over his face and dimples puncturing his skin.