Well, sorry... and I mean absolutely sorry for this awful, poorly written and tardy update. But exams have taken everything out of me. Oh well...
Read! Vote! Comment! Fan! Love Larry Stylinson!
xoxooxoxoxo Hailey
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There was once a volcano that burned hot and bright, with the intensity of the sun and the passion of insipid flames licking at its core. Its magma pooled like liquid heat and bubbled without consequence, pressing against the rocks and making days long and hot.
But volcanoes are insatiable and the oxygen can only do so much to keep the fire within them burning, so without any further ado, the volcano stilled and waited in the humid island air. Until one day a beautiful islander found the volcano.
You see, people don’t just stumble upon what needs to be found for absolutely no reason, the universe leads them there—and on that day the humid air stirred her dizzy and guided her towards the volcano.
Not even a week earlier had her own village banished her into the rainforest, with flowers gilded in her hair and laced through her fingers and set her out into her own accords. Burn hot, burn bright, burn day, burn night. Let heat come forward, let heat ensue, luck for us, sacrificed by you. This is what they’d told the beautiful girl with the long black hair before she was left for the eyes of the earth. Her feet bare and black as they were sodden with dirt.
So on the very first day of the year, she stood before the red hot sea and gazed into its depths. For it was the beginning; and it was the end. It would be her fiery death, for her village’s birth—and for the first time the volcano stirred upon the beauty of the islander, ashamed at the heat it brought forth for mere human warmth. The longing it felt not to burn new bones, but to feel beauty and to know love.
But the islander was aghast at the volcano too, amazed by the dryness and the power it demanded. Determined not to die, and not to evaporate for the love of the earth. But the volcano yearned for her body and she for it, but it was not right, but to be. She revelled in the glorious feel of the volcano’s searing hot kisses upon her tanned sun-licked skin and she praised, and adored it too much to be availed.
When suddenly, the sky began to spit, to pour cold kisses upon hot skin and upon burning sea that fed her fire. The volcano grew jealous as she sucked in fresh air and felt contrast upon his islander’s skin without consent. The volcano feared that the girl would be lost as she wandered in a daze towards the ocean, a trance of sad proportions.
The tears streaming down her face akin to the siren kisses of the sky as they called her to the beach. There she drowned, not a word of air, rather than being swallowed by the heat of passion and temptation, a vixen is lava so.
With this, the volcano erupted, pain pouring from every inch of its hard stony depths, burning all it touched, scorching what love could not have.
Louis’s P.O.V
I watched intently as the words left Niall’s lips, but I only saw mist of awful things as they touched my ears. Harry wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t kiss Zayn—or at the very least, Zayn wouldn’t kiss Harry.
He was mine, we’d hardly kissed twice, and his lips were my sweet chocolate on cold vanilla ice cream—the refreshing sumptuous love that would sate my hot dry throat and make everything better and hotter and brighter again.
But things got loud in my ears as Harry said nothing and stared with eyes blanker than paper out the pack at Zayn, and Zayn complied but I heard no words beyond the roar. The roar I heard in my ears and felt in my stomach.
The prickles on my skin that spread across every inch of my body. Like tiny little magnets on pinpoints reaching out towards Harry as Zayn awkwardly inched closer. His tan skin nearing ever so slightly towards my alabaster boyfriend, whose perfect porcelain was tainted pink with embarrassment on his cheeks.
Not such glorious and tempting pink that made my stomach grow hot and thick like a summer’s day with want, but instead a pink that caused my blood to boil at the thought of something under his skin. Unsure, yet so sure, of what I was feeling.
Jealous.
Something under his skin was like vicious parasites under mine, biting and clawing and tearing at the sensitive undersides of my roaring flesh.
Jealous.
Red and fog and misty bee stings in my eyes as I looked at the sight in front of me. Like some bad trip or some late dream hallucination, torturing my eyes with sights they wished they’d never see, nor that they believed they were seeing.
Jealous.
My heart painful, like heart burn, like acid reflux, like some sort of cardiac arrest—ripping and pulling and tugging at the vulnerable muscle pulsing with blood and burgundy inside my chest, underneath where things used to flutter and float at his eyes of emerald light and chocolate locks, but instead felt painful aversion.
Jealous.
I don’t get jealous. I never had, the feeling absolutely baffling. Maddening to the core. Red in every sense of the word.
I wanted to scrub jealous from my skin… purge it from my blood… and wipe it from my mind. I wanted to destroy jealous and never allow anyone to feel again. Because it was the feeling of yours as someone else’s. As day fading indo dark cold night. As fire being stomped into embers only to be burned hot into your skin.
Dizzy and blind by a placebo-rage as I watched Zayn’s symmetrically shaped lips close in on my Harry’s ruby red perfect ones.
Jealous.
“Stop.” I hissed coldly, completely unaware that my voice was capable of going so deep.
The looks varied across the room as they broke and built the silence. Harry’s—one of shock. Niall seemed to be smirking. Zayn and Liam confused.
“What wrong?” Niall asked cheekily.
I watched as Harry’s Adam’s apple bobbed brutally, reminding me of love bites I wished to paint across his pale and lucid skin. Harry looked at me still and scarce, but everything was red.
“Everything.” I said.
“Please, do elaborate,” Niall egged on, causing the red to grow ever-more opaque in my already cloudy vision.
“Harry can’t kiss Zayn,” I said.
“Then what do you suggest his dare be?” Liam asked almost to quiet to penetrate the roaring of my infectious jealous rage.
“I don’t know,” I said, hardly aware of what I was saying. “Just not that!”
“Uh—why not?” Harry asked, almost warningly.
But my red hot gaze and selective ears didn’t take it as any, I never heard such words, telling me to step back, to guard what we had been trying to keep for a while longer. Only a blank question.
“Because it’s not right! It’s… it’s…” I fumed. “It’s bloody cheating!”
“That’s how you play the game…?” Liam muttered in confusion and Zayn nodded.
“Not the fucking game!” I ranted, my voice lost… hardly sounding like mine anymore. “Our fucking relationship for god’s sake!”
“What…?” Liam gasped in confusion.
“Bloody hell!” Zayn said. But I didn’t hear them… I was too far gone, and Niall’s smirking just put me over the edge.
“And if you fucking knew you bloody schemer, why the hell would you want to make someone else’s boyfriend fucking kiss someone else?” I rambled on, gripping the bottle tight in my fingers.
“I had suspicions… but nothing like this,” Niall said.
“Were you jealous Lou?” Harry practically squeaks out. But I hardly hear him.
“Fucking right I’m jealous!” I seethed, looking down. “Like it’d matter anyway…”
“Can someone please explain what’s going on?” Liam demanded, looking like a lost puppy dog in the midst of it all.
“Yeah… I second that,” Zayn said.
“We’re kind of dating…?” Harry said.
“I gathered that.” Zayn said.
“What about Eleanor though?” Liam asked in utter confusion
“Management bloody hired her to pretend to date me to diffuse the Larry Stylinson gossip, which at the time might I add wasn’t even true… but I guess it’s the bloody gossip in the first place that even put the idea in our heads…” I took a pause to breath, “and yeah… Larry Stylinson is real.”
“Absolutely stunning how we manage to blow our cover after only two official days of dating, yeah?” Harry smiled coyly at me, and I could help but smile back.
“Wait!” Zayn said. We all turned to look at him. “Have you shagged?”
Harry turned beet red and my palm was instantly transferred to my face. This was going to be a long lad’s night in.