The Weekend (Narry)

cúig

"And in the end, we were all just humans, drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness."

It is now five in the afternoon. Harry is still sat in the pub, and he has learned a few things in the hours spent on the barstool.

For starters, the pub is called Ádh Mór. Apparently, this means luck in Irish. There is in fact a language called Irish, which is something Harry didn't know until two hours ago. Niall drinks on the job a lot, but he also owns the pub, so technically he's allowed. There were three babies born this year, all girls and all sisters. Their parents are the local physicians, and their dog's name is Skip. Carolyn isn't married, but she's seeing the widower whose wife died two years ago. She thinks she likes him, but it could just be an escape from her loneliness. She isn't quite sure.

Carolyn has left, kissing Niall on the cheek and wishing Harry safe travels. Niall is back to wiping down tables, and Harry is alone at the bar. "To be honest," He speaks up after a few minutes of silence. "I thought Irish pubs never closed."

"Are all American stereotypes as accurate as you make them seem?" Niall asks, moving onto a new table to clean.

"You're very rude."

"Tell me," Niall looks at Harry. "Are all Americans arrogant, or is it just the Bostonian men?"

"What?"

"Are they?"

"Are you saying I'm arrogant?" Harry asks, not quite understanding what Niall was getting at. All Harry has done is beg for help. if you ask him, that's the opposite of arrogance.

"Why do you want to go to Dublin?"

"I told you. I want to propose to my partner."

"Your partner?"

"Yes, my partner."

"Why would you come here to propose? It's not like you can get married here." Niall has stopped wiping down tables.

"He was here on business, so I wanted to surprise him."

Niall laughs at that.

"What's so funny?" Harry asks.

"That's got to be the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." He's still laughing. "Seriously, that's the stupidest."

"Can you get me to Dublin or not? I don't have time to sit here and be insulted by some random guy I don't even know." Harry is beyond flustered and almost ready to snap. Niall sobers up, his laughter ends.

"There are no taxis in Neamh."

Harry closes his eyes and tries to breathe evenly. "Is there any other way I could get there?"

"You could find someone willing to drive you, but I doubt you could."

"How far is it?"

"Five, six hours to drive." Niall says, doing the math in his head. "Most of 'em are a bit too old to be doing that drive. The others have work or kids or both."

Harry thinks about it, weighing all of his options before speaking. "What about you?"

"Me?" Niall looks disgusted by the thought.

"Yes."

"God, no."

"Please, I'm begging here. I'll do whatever you want. I'll pay you whatever you want."

"You could give me anything in the world, and I still wouldn't drive you to Dublin."

"Why not?" Harry asks, feeling like a child. "Do you not have a car?"

Niall sends him a dirty look, going back to cleaning his pub. "I have a fuckin' car. I'm not in the poorhouse."

"I'll pay you €500 and gas money."

Niall pauses, and Harry can tell he's thinking about it. "Pay for petrol, yeah. But I want €650."

"€600."

"With petrol?"

"Yes."

"Deal." Niall nods. "We can head out when I'm finished cleaning." Niall begins pushing in chairs, not waiting for a response from Harry.