The Talented Harry Styles | L.S

Chpt 7. Is your mouth a little weak?

Shouts were followed by heavy plashing.

"To the mainland!"

Harry was bitter.

He was sat alone on the sailboat, reading while the others were off swimming and splashing around in the deep blue water.

For once, the Italian west coast sky was overcast, the sun long gone. It matched his somber feelings and his overwhelmed mind.

He heard the faint laughter. It was hard to contain the sickening feeling in his stomach when Louis climbed on Freddie's solid back, trying to drown him. He just shot them both a dirty glare.

Harry was well aware that they were playing, but still, he prayed Louis would end up actually drowning Freddie at some point.

He slapped himself for thinking such malicious thoughts.

Even Marge seemed left out of their exclusive little games. She just swam around appeased and by herself near the boat.

After a while, she mounted the boat. She wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, covering up her raspberry-pink bikini and approached Harry.

"You should get in. It's marvelous!" she encouraged with a smile, taking her blonde hair and squeezing the ocean out of it.

"I'm fine," Harry mumbled, not bothering to even look up from his book. Even if he did want to get in, which he didn't, the water was too deep here.

His head turned towards the sea when a few more dim screams came from the men who had glided farther away from the boat, still trying to drown each other.

"Are you okay?"

"Sure." Harry forced a smile. A lock fell in front of his face.

Marge let out a concerned sigh and plopped down next to him. She turned her head, too, and then they both watched the others fool around in the ocean.

She shifted her solacing blue eyes to Harry and reached up to rub his arm. She likely hadn't realized she was only making his skin more damp with her wet, briny fingers.

"The thing with Louis..." she trailed off.

"It's like the sun shines on you and it's glorious. And then he forgets about you, and it gets very, very cold."

Harry smiled sadly, knowing exactly what she meant. "So I'm learning."

"When you have his attention, you feel like you're the only person in the world. That's why everybody loves him," Marge explained gently.

"It's always the same. Whenever someone new comes into his life, Freddie," she nodded toward Freddie, "Fausto, Peter Smith-Kingsley—have you met him? He's wonderful. He's a musician."

When Harry didn't answer, just staring vacantly into the horizon, she decided to add:

"Especially you."

He finally moved his head and looked up at her, meeting her warm eyes and her sympathetic smile.

A hesitant, but genuine smile slowly formed over his own lips at the admission.

"And that's just the boys," she sighed and looked away.

They were interrupted by a yell from Louis as Freddie wrestled him under the water.

"He's drowning me!" Louis screamed and made choking noises in Freddie's clasp. Harry and Marge watched in melancholy as Freddie pushed Louis under the surface again.

"Tell me Harry, why is it when men play they always play at killing each other?" Marge shook her head, puzzled. She turned her attention on Harry again.