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

18

Auburn frosted over with a grey tinge, curling the edges with specks of glistening ice. The air grew cold and unrelenting. The waves became fierce. Their touch was ice cold with passion. It was desperate to feel Harry’s skin, desperate to make him feel its numbing fingertips. The sea roared every morning, competing with the howling wind which rattled Harry’s van’s windows.

Moods dampened with the dry air. Inside was a coven of safety from the gruelling efforts of the sky to rip the sea in two.  Couples intertwined lay by the fire, watching mind-numbing talent shows full of the complete opposite. There were gatherings, festive ones, that were full of chest warming mulled wine and the inch-gaining buttery treats of the season. Twinkling fairy lights gradually appeared in shop windows. They glinted in Harry’s tired eyes. Because with winter came Christmas.

And Harry was tired. He was tired of it, the weather, the festivities. His joints ached and his back cracked every time he stood up. Business was slow, regardless of the powerful waves from the hideous weather. Harry spent most of November and December in the sea. The sea was unpredictable in the winter time, he could never judge how wild a day it would be, how satisfying he would inevitably find it. He took advantage of its harsh whips and stinging slaps. He embraced the burn that followed after a successful surf. He loved the rawness of his skin, the feeling that his skin was on fire and only more salt water could extinguish it. It was mind-numbingly entrancing. He had nobody to share it with, just the familiar lapping of the first wave.

His friends were busy constantly, only free for snippets of chats and their usual Friday night. Niall had picked up a bird, a relationship-type one, not just a random hook-up one. Harry did not know her name, just knew that she was tanned, leggy, and majored in politics. Niall did not know shit about politics, but Harry presumed that they must have had other stuff in common for Niall to actually want to keep her, rather than just visit her the odd time to, well, fuck, basically.

Zayn and Liam were very ZaynAndLiam-y. The festive season brought out even more of their love-sick characteristics. Harry had seen too many mistletoe-kisses than he could bear to stomach. However, he did have to admit, that their bubble of love was comforting to see. They were always smiling, always happy. They embraced anything that came their way and doused it in their bliss. Whenever Harry was spending time with one half of the couple, the other would randomly appear, baring spontaneous, romantic gestures that made the apples of Liam’s cheeks flare red and the slant of Zayn’s lips soften. Harry wondered what it was like to feel that, to feel the melting of his heart in his chest when the one he loved took the time out to appreciate him, to make him feel like the most loved man on the planet. As soon as that thought arrived, it was stuffed away.

Harry never really saw Nick outside of work. Caroline was off somewhere hot with her family, who, by the way, were rich as hell. Harry supposed that maybe he had a new guy on the go, the name Greg had arisen in conversation too many times to be a coincidence. Harry never asked, though, because he knew what Nick was like. Nick was flighty, and one time push of interest could knock him off his trail and send him sprinting in the wrong direction, the complete opposite direction to who he had taken a fancy to. Harry just hoped that whoever the guy was, if it was Greg, that he was good for Nick, because there was nothing worse than having a broken heart over Christmas. (Well, there was, but Harry was used to it, so.)

Lou and Tom were rushed off their feet at Crusoe’s. Apparently with the winter came people wanting to take walks on the beach, but soon getting tired of their hair being blown all over the place and re-accommodating to the coastal cafe. Lou had also decided that she was to make her own mince pies and sell them, warmed with a round of thick cream. Obviously, with that came business, and with business came stress and little time for Harry’s little life.