"Do not kid yourself, a conflict is never about a surface issue. It's about ones unsaid, untreated, and unhealed wounds."
Unknown
"No, you don't understand. I need to be in Dublin today." Harry's fingers tap an inconsistent beat on the counter as he attempts to explain his situation to the man behind it.
"I'm not sure if you're understanding me, sir. Dublin flights have been cancelled. We have no way for you to get there today."
"I need to be there by tonight. I need to make sure everything is in order. I can't be stuck in Wales."
The man looks apathetic for a second before he returns to his stoic expression. "Would you like me to ring Dublin Airport and request they open a runaway just for you? Because that's completely plausible, 'innit?"
Harry huffs, readjusting his carry on over his shoulder. "Whatever. Fine. Thanks for all of your nonexistent help."
Harry leaves the line, angrily finding it way out of the airport. If there are no connecting flights to Dublin, he has no reason to stay in the building. Right now, if he were able to, he would probably be calling Louis. He need only hear his voice, and Harry would calm down, his stress would dissipate off his shoulders. But, neither Harry nor Louis have an international package, and Harry doesn't want to spoil the surprise if he doesn't absolutely have to.
He grabs out his planner, to check and see just how far off his schedule is because of this delay. To his horror, he should have already been choosing a dining spot. Closing the planner, he shoves it back into his bag and begins following the exit signs until he is breathing the fresh air of Wales. Harry is not entirely sure where Wales even is, or if it's any different than England. The assistants sounded British, anyway.
When he finds that he's by a coast, he realizes that there are more ways than one to get to Ireland. By his watch, it takes him half an hour to find and convince a fishing boat to take him to Cork. Halfway to Cork, a storm feels the need to spoil Harry's plans once more, forcing the boat to dock in Neamh. Harry isn't entirely sure this town is even on Google Maps, and he's slightly worried about leaving the boat.
After paying the fisherman, he prays to God that the town will at least have wifi.
-
The road between the shoreline and any buildings is a long, straight one. Ireland is lucky it's beautiful, so Harry at least has something to do. By the time he reaches a small pub that has two cars parked on the side and its front door wide open, Harry has seen 528 new shades of green.
When he walks in, he accidentally knocks his knuckles against the doorframe, and he hisses at the sharp pain. The pub is relatively full, which Harry chalks up to it being lunchtime. He pauses to look around, and is pushed forward from behind. He turns to see who did it, and he finds a blonde woman holding a small child on her hip.
"Sorry, just trying to get through. You're in the way." She says, her accent thick and words hard to catch.
"Apologies."
She nods, walking around Harry to sit at a table with a man Harry can only assume is her husband. He makes his way to the counter, figuring that would be the best place to ask for help. The bartender is currently leaning over, chatting with an older man sitting by the bar. He has a white towel in his hand and is probably supposed to be wiping down the glass.
"Excuse me?"
The bartender holds up a finger, still giving his full attention to his friend. It's frustrating to Harry, to be completely honest.
"Excuse me?" Harry says again, and he notices the bartender share a look with the older man. He finally turns to look at Harry.
"Yes?"
"Yes, hello. I was wondering if you could help me."
"With what?"
"I need a taxi." Harry says.
"A taxi."
"Yes." He nods, adjusting his bag's strap. "A taxi."
The bartender walks down to Harry's end of the bar, leaning back into it again. "What makes you think I can get you a taxi?"
"If you don't know, then please give me the number of someone who does." Harry is beyond annoyed by now. The bartender raises an eyebrow, turning around and grabbing a small paper from a bulletin board on the wall. He hands it to Harry, nodding toward the door.
"Phone over there."
"Thank you." Harry nods, taking the paper with him over to call a taxi.
"Ey, Niall! My girl needs another lemonade!" A burly, loud voice shouts over the quiet music and chatter of the pub-goers.
"Comin'!" Niall shouts back, and Harry learns that the bartender slacks on everything- not just when it comes to being helpful to foreigners. Harry ignores the rest of the conversations, attempting to dial the phone number. The handwriting is swoopy, feminine, and easy to read. The phone is a bit more difficult. When he finally figured out how to work it and dials the number he was given, Harry has to wait before someone picks up.
"Hello?"
"Yes, hello? I need a taxi to Dublin."
"Where are you?"
Harry looks around to see if he can spot the name of the pub he's currently in. "I'm in a little pub in Neamh. I didn't catch the name of it."
"No, no, that won't do."
"What?"
"That's too far. You're crazy to call me. I'm in Cork!" The man on the other end exclaims, and Harry feels a tad foolish.
"I'm sorry, the bartender gave me your number."
"Tell the bartender to quit drinkin'. It's meant for the customers." The man hangs up without so much as a goodbye, and Harry has had it up to here with obnoxious Irishmen. He's not so sure this trip is his greatest of ideas. Harry hangs up the phone and heads back to the bar, where Niall, the bartender, is finally doing his job.
"Any luck?" He asks Harry.
"He told me to inform you that the beer is for customers, and you should quit drinking it."
Niall laughs loudly, harnessing the attention of a woman sat, drinking at the bar. "Ey, Carolyn, did you hear what Aedan told him to tell me?"
"You should start listening to him." The lady laughs, her accent thick enough to affect even it. "When's the last time there's been any Celtic Stout in this place?"
"Got some comin' in Sunday, actually."
"But we'll never see it. You'll drink it all before we even wake up!"
Niall laughs again, and Harry is getting antsy. All he needs is a ride to Dublin. It can't be that far, honestly. It's a fucking island. Niall stops laughing after a few seconds and goes back to wiping down the bar. "Everybody got their food?" He shouts, and there's a resounding yes that moves through the room. "Everybody got the money to pay for it?"
At that, the yes turns into cluttered excuses, and nos, and patrons pretending to leave. Niall shakes his head.
"Excuse me." Harry says again, and Niall looks at him as though he forgot Harry was even here. "I need to get to Dublin."
"What's so important about Dublin, anyway?"
"I'm going there to propose to my boyfriend." Harry explains, and Niall looks him up and down, putting a pen in his mouth. Harry isn't sure where Niall got the pen from, but the habit of chewing on your writing utensils is a pet peeve of Harry's.
"Looks like Neamh has another poof!" The old man Niall had been talking to earlier speaks up, and Niall rolls his eyes.
"Another drink, Sammy?" He asks.
"Wouldn't mind if I did."
Harry scrunches his eyebrows together as Niall refills the old man's glass. "That was rude."
Niall shrugs, glancing at the man, Sammy, and back at Harry. "Don't worry about him."
"But he just-"
"Thinks he's funny." Niall cuts him off, grabbing a clean glass and pouring himself a drink.
"I need to get to Dublin."
"You keep sayin' that."
"Well, if you would just help me, then I would appreciate it." Harry sets his jaw, trying really hard not to get upset with this ridiculous bartender. He hasn't helped one bit.
"I'm working."
"After work?" Harry presses. He can tell Niall is getting tired of talking in circles, but Harry can't leave it. He would ask someone else in the room, he would even ask someone around town-but he fears Niall will be the only one able to help. This town seems full of people who haven't stepped foot outside of their city limits. The Irishman sighs, but nods.
"Fine. We'll chat when the lunch crowd goes home."
Harry smiles widely, accepting his success. "Great."
"But if you're going to stay here," Niall continues. "You're going to have to buy Carolyn a drink."
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