On The Horizon || L.S.

Day 2: Nassau, Bahamas

Sunday, the 14th of August, 2022

"Why the fuck did I drink so much?"

Harry wakes up to a sour mouth, sore throat, and a pounding behind his eyes. In the initial flashes of his consciousness, he recalls getting up in the middle of the night to run into the tiny bathroom, manipulating his body so that he could fit on the floor next to the toilet, and getting the sugary swill out of his stomach. He must have been drunk enough, still, to skip brushing his teeth. Fucking twat, drunk Harry is. Which, speaking of. What the fuck was last night?

He starts with a jump, sitting up quickly and immediately regretting it, the pulsing in his head growing sharp. Groaning, he flicks his eyes down to his hands; completely empty, not a ring in sight. Heart rate beginning to putter in his chest, he whips his head around, patting at the sheets draped around his hips, searching for the bronze token he'd received last night from a wasted airline pilot who giggled like a teenager. Finally, his sights land on the bedside table, and he relaxes. The ring is sitting delicately by the alarm clock on top of a tissue.

So - alright! Yes. Last night happened. It wasn't just one big fever dream. Harry pushes off the sheets, plants his feet on the carpet, and rubs the palms of his hands into his eyes. He thinks back to Mr. Brightside and frozen mojitos and a bum shaped by God and an unexpected proposal.

What exactly is a cruise husband, anyways? They didn't even make out or go back to one of their rooms. They barely even touched each other, come to think of it.

Rolling his eyes, Harry pulls himself up and goes to the bathroom to get ready for the day. He's coated his toothbrush and raised it to his mouth by the time he processes that he has no way to contact Louis. "Fuhg," he attempts to grunt, dripping foamy paste in his frustration.

All he had to go off of was the guarantee that the entire Cabin Crew was going to be at Atlantis today, same as Harry. Based on what he can remember from his last trip there, it's a pretty sizeable park. When he went with his family years ago, he loved hopping into the River Rapids. He would travel along them until he could doggy paddle over to a water slide line, relaxing on his inflatable as the conveyor belt took him up the hill.

Innovation. Why didn't every water park do that? Atlantis will truly spoil a person. Why would you ever include stairs as an option if you can sit? Nothing was the same without them. Truly, being without them was a lesser reality.

Oh great, you're thinking about being without Louis now, aren't you? Christ, fuck off, Nicholas Sparks.

For all his excitement and the chaos unfolding in his brain, one small thing had yet to click. When it does, Harry rushes to spit out all of his foamy, minty saliva so that he can run out to the balcony door and fling apart the shimmering, sky-blue curtains.

Bright light hits him, the hangover painfully back in focus as Harry covers his eyes. After a few seconds of adjusting, he slowly blinks open and grins.

They've made it to port.

His side of the ship has a beautiful view of the land opposite the port, lush greenery and turquoise waves that he had dreamt of for years. Anticipation starts swirling in his stomach, energy picking up as he pulls further away from sleep. Only a moment before he's about to pull open the door to look outside, he realises that he is wearing absolutely jack shit. Popping open his suitcase - please organise this and put it away at some point, we are NOT living like nomads here - he pulls out the first pair of swim trunks he can find, banana-yellow and just short enough.

When he steps outside, his first thought is that he needs to bring his sun cream with him today. His second thought is that he kind of feels like he's home, in some weird way. It must be the memories and how it felt to be surrounded by family, joy, and sunshine. For a while, he thought cruising would never be an option again. It was seeming like an impossibility in post-COVID reality. It's incredible that things are slowly moving back towards normal, but the world will likely always be different than before.