Inclination

Theme Parks, Treats, Twelve Hours

The loud roar of machinery booms overhead like thunder, the empty car of the apparatus bellowing across the tubular rail at high speed. Neon purple and green lights blink and illuminate the track as it whirrs by, its ghostly aftermath leaving you with a depleted rush as it zooms past your body and blows your hair forward with its velocity.

You're not exactly sure where it came from, but your fingers are wrapped around the paper cone of a heap of pink, fluffy cotton candy and you gasp in joy at the realization. You tear off a piece and allow it to dissolve on your tongue, humming at the sweet seduction of the featherlike treat.

You whine and cover your ears as another empty rollercoaster car zips by you, clanking along the metal tracks and whooshing a gust of air so powerful that it almost blows the cotton candy from your grip. You spin on your heel to move away from the massive structure and the lights of the amusement park are surrounding you and so enormous and busy that you're blinded by visual massacre. They bend towards you as you walk, as if you're viewing them through a fisheye lens and you can't seem to shake the feeling of claustrophobia as you shuffle past them.

You feel enclosed by tall metal and wooden architecture on every side of your body; unnatural and staged trees and plant life decorate the sidewalk that winds through the empty and running rollercoasters. Bumper cars spin in repetitive circles driven by phantom pilots, colliding into one another and the neighboring walls.

A Ferris wheel stands beside you and it's so colossal that it forces your nose towards the sky, the cabs spinning forward slowly and shaking when they pass a certain apex of the wheel. The operator station is unmanned and the turnstile leading to the ride revolves forward in a single tick every few seconds as if someone were passing through for their turn.

Demented pastel, oversized teacups spiral on a track, the steering wheels inside of them rotating wildly and much too fast for any human to handle without getting dizzy and sick - anyone would surely lose their funnel cakes from their stomachs at the ferocious velocity.

A carousel to your right actually seems inviting as you approach it on timid feet, the large bulbous lights are warm and soft and the parade of elegant, regal horses lift up and down as the roundabout works its way in a circle slowly. The cresting along the top is ornate and delicate, like a massive bone china teacup and you take a few steps backwards to get a view of the breathtaking ride in its entirety.

A solid chest blocks your retreat and you suck in a lungful of surprised air as you jump to face the person, stuttering out an apology at your clumsy impact before you recognize a head full of chocolate curls.

Harry smiles broadly with your thrilling reaction to distinguishing who you've encountered, tossing his arms around you so enthusiastically that you both stumble backwards from the force. You squeal and hug him tight, mumbling greetings and admissions of longing in between kisses, his large hands warm as they roam your curves.

"An empty amusement park and you still crash into someone with your two left feet," his grin is teasing and you're just so happy to see him that you brush his ribbing aside. "I hate rollercoasters."

You laugh, "you would. Why did you wanna meet here then?"

He raises his eyebrows in question before shrugging, his fingertips brushing through your hair before plucking a chunk of cotton candy from the cone in your hand, "you must have wanted to. So you admit it then?"

The cotton candy is the same color as his lips when he pops the puffy cloud into his mouth, the sweetness evaporating instantly as he allows his tongue to wet his bottom lip. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him close, your noses tapping together when you answer him with another question, "admit what?"