The Weekend (Narry)

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"When I give, I give myself."
Walt Whitman

"You're what?" Zayn's voice is loud in Harry's ear. Harry sends an apologetic look to the woman sitting beside him, because there's no way she didn't hear the shrill Zayn's voice carried.

"I'm on an airplane." Harry says calmly.

"To Ireland?"

"Yes."

"Why the hell are you going to Ireland?" Zayn sounds exasperated, and Harry sighs.

"Louis didn't propose last night." He explains.

"So you're following him to Ireland?"

Harry rolls his eyes, even though Zayn can't see him. "Yes."

"And, you couldn't wait until Monday, because...?" His voice trails off, and Harry feels slightly betrayed.

"Would you at least pretend to be a romantic for five minutes?"

"I'm sorry that I'm a fatalist, okay? But this is ridiculous, Harry. Are you doing this to guilt him into saying yes?" Zayn's voice quiets toward the end of his sentence, and Harry knows that Zayn doesn't want to believe that that is what Harry is doing.

"I'm doing this, because I have waited years for him to ask me to no avail. I think it's time that I man up and ask him, don't you? Why do I have to sit around and wait for a train that doesn't appear to be coming anytime in the near future?"

"Harry, that's exactly what I'm trying to say. He doesn't want to get married."

"You don't know that. I don't know that." Harry argues. "He's so focused on his work, maybe he just doesn't realize, so he thinks we're fine."

"I really don't think th-"

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your captain speaking."

"Zayn, I have to hang up. We're about to head onto the Tarmac."

Harry hears Zayn sigh, probably in defeat. "Message me when you get there."

"I will."

Harry ends the call and proceeds to put his phone on airplane mode. The woman beside him is already fiddling with the TV screen in front of her, and Harry knows this is going to be a lonely flight. He takes out the blanket and pillow he had stuffed into the back of the chair when he sat down, and he unwraps the blanket. Harry had spent all night packing, speaking to his mother, and finding a flight with an empty seat. There had been no time for actual sleep, so he supposes that now was the time to catch up.

Harry tunes out the video playing, because he isn't in an exit row seat, and frankly, he doesn't care about the safety procedures. He's flown enough times to know what to do. The woman beside him has seemingly been entranced by the cheesy safety video. Harry wonders how it must feel to be an aspiring filmmaker whose only accomplishment was this ridiculous video. He figures it's got to be worse than the false hope of a proposal from your partner of four years. But then again, that hope hurts a lot too. So, maybe it doesn't feel as bad.

He forces himself to stay away through takeoff, even if only so he can lay his seat back once passenger's are allowed to. By the time the seatbelt light flickers off, the wifi symbol taking its place, Harry really needs to pee.

The flight attendants haven't began making their rounds just yet, and the woman beside Harry is quite small. He figures he can shuffle around her without forcing her to stand up. He taps her shoulder, motioning for her to stay seated. Harry proceeds to maneuver his way over his seat buddy and into the aisle way. The encounter is awkward to say the least.