In From The Cold

Tuesday 2/2

Tuesday, continued

Harry strolls briskly through the streets of Ennis, the chill in the Irish wind slinking through his probably ill-thought-out attire. He hadn’t bothered to grab a proper coat before leaving, and his oversized sweater is letting the cold through to an unfortunate degree.

The bustle of the town is picking up around him, and he returns the waves and greetings of some of the shop owners as he passes. Most of the business community in Ennis are familiar with each other, especially those involved in tourism, and Harry has formed a lot of good relationships with the people of the town.

The bakery is on Parnell Street, and as the door jingles to herald Harry’s arrival a ginger head pokes out from the back room.

“Alright, Harry?”

“Hey Ed,” Harry returns, appreciating the warmth of the place as it envelopes him. Ed’s always complaining about the heat from the ovens making his flushed face match his hair colour, but today it’s more than welcome. “We had a delivery problem, I’m short on dinner rolls. A dozen?”

“Can do,” Ed replies, pulling out one of the empty carrier crates from his stack and glancing quizzically at Harry. “You seem a little on edge, mate.”

Harry rubs a hand through his hair, trying not to roll his eyes. He knows he’s never been great at hiding his emotions, but sometimes it’s just annoying.

“The reviewer came today,” he sighs, and Ed frowns as he starts piling rolls up.

“I thought Zayn was the stress head?”

Harry debates whether or not it’s worth following this conversation down its inevitable rabbit hole, but his immediate conclusion is that it’s too risky to start bleating about his sexual frustration to anyone who will listen. It’s a small town, and while Ed may be a close friend, it’s still not worth becoming the potential for gossip fodder. Not while everyone is still fixated on last week’s drama of Eleanor running off with a girl from out of town, despite being engaged to a local man. El had been part of their group of friends too, and none of them had heard from her yet - the whole thing has a surreal quality to it that Harry still hasn’t quite managed to process.

“Apparently stress is the kind of thing that catches,” Harry finally settles on.

“Tell you what,” Ed says cheerfully, “You have to come to the pub on Friday night. Leave Jade on the front desk and bring the lads. We can see if alcohol makes Zayn bold enough to finally confess his attraction to the man of his dreams.”

Harry laughs at this, feeling the tension beginning to leave his shoulders. Ed has that kind of soothing effect on people. “Oh Ed, sweet naïve Edward. Zayn lives to pine, you’re fighting a losing battle.”

“I’m running out of time, Harry,” Ed whines, huffing out a sigh, “December 1st is this weekend!”

“Just accept that you’ve lost and hand your money in to Nick now,” Harry replies with a grin as Ed’s expression becomes a scowl.

Their friend Nick had set up a pool with a bunch of townsfolk on when Zayn and Liam would finally admit their mutual feelings and fall madly in love. Or, madly in bed, as Nick likes to put it. The bartender did love his drama.

“I don’t know why I picked November,” Ed moans, face in hands. Harry reaches over the counter to pat him on the shoulder.

“You’re an optimist. It’s sweet.” He picks up his crate of rolls, balancing them on his hip. “Friday sounds great, count me in.”

The cold air greets him as he leaves, and Harry lets it wrap around him as he turns in the direction of his inn once more. Winter in Ireland can be bitingly fierce, but Harry’s never had a favourite season because each of them has such beauty. Ennis is as beautiful in the summer sunshine as it is with green spring hills, or the orange-red-gold explosion of autumn. And in November’s dying weeks, the wintery snow begins to creep in and turn the town into a storybook illustration. It’s coming, the forecast had said, and Harry can smell it on the wind.