Sunken Love (LiLo) (merman!Louis)

Chapter 3: His Hero

Chapter 3: His Hero

...::*Liam's POV*::...

"Joshieeee!" Niall squeals-- quite like a five year-old girl, I might add-- and runs over to Josh, nearly plowing him over.

After recovering from the initial shock of nearly getting trampled by an overly excited Irish lad, Josh laughs and wraps his tan, muscular arms around the clingy boy. "Wow, I missed you too, Nialler."

"Quite the place you have, mate," I say after we've managed to pull Niall from Josh.

"Yeah? Well I guess when your dad owns half the marina, you can afford the pleasures in life," he replies, looking around the interior of his large oceanfront home nonchalantly. Josh had never been one to flaunt his family's wealth like some might, preferring instead to keep it to himself.

"Yeah, it's beautiful," I affirm. The place is amazing, really. It's situated right on the beach. The serene waves nearly lap at the house's foundations. A peaceful little private beach rests not ten metres from the back door of the house, complete with cosy-looking wooden furniture and a tiny dock with a speedboat moored to it. A miniature lighthouse rises up over a windswept sand dune. It looks like the scene of some tropical paradise movie.

I must've zoned out at some point because a slap on the back pulls me from my reverie.

"If you're quite done gawking, mate, we've a bit of work to do. It seems our friends Harry and Zayn, here, packed their whole wardrobes. When were you planning on telling them they're only staying till the end of summer?" Josh jokes.

I mock horror and stage whisper, "I was hoping you'd told them!"

Josh laughs and swats me playfully before we part ways, me to unpack my things and him to go help Harry and Zayn. Poor lad doesn't know what he's gotten himself into.

It takes about two hours to unpack, most of that time being spent in either Harry or Zayn's room. Once he's done with his bags, Niall goes and makes himself right at home in the kitchen. Should've figured he wouldn't help us. Even though it's their bags, Harry and Zayn aren't much help either. They're like pampered little girls, constantly complaining about everything from how how heavy the bags are ("Oh, man up, you tossers!") to how they're getting sweaty and ruining their hair ("I swear to god, if you don't finish unpacking I'll cut off all your hair in your sleep so you won't have to worry about it!"). Eventually, as if by some miracle, we've unpacked the last can of hairspray and have lined it up carefully next to the eight others in Zayn's now-cramped bathroom.

By now, the last rays of sunshine are peaking over the horizon, casting beams like spotlights into the purple and pink dappled sky. I've never seen such a beautiful sunset before, and I feel a slight pang of sadness in my chest. I wish I had someone to share this gorgeous sight with.

The others have long since left me to my own thoughts, standing wistfully gazing out the back door over the serene landscape before me. I can hear their loud voices shouting playfully from the kitchen, but for some reason, I'm not in the mood to join in on the banter.

Just as the sun dips below the horizon and the colours dance away below the waves, the four boys come prancing down the stairs rowdily.

"Li!" Niall chirps. "Joshie had the best idea! He knows of this brand new club a couple blocks from here, 'top secret,' he says, on account of the city-wide curfew. But anyway, it's like a rave from back home in London. Doesn't that sound like fun Lili?!"

Niall is practically bouncing off the walls with excitement, his eyes shining and hopeful.

"Calm down, Ni. Now what's this about a curfew?" I ask. If it's city-wide, I really don't want to break some kind of law and end up in jail. Because we all know what happens to guys like me in prison, and it rhymes with grape. Wow, I really need to lay off the teenage-angst films.