Hooked

19. The Wonders One Cavern Can Hold

[CW: Referenced Drug Use]
*************

Don't...

Pleeeaaaseee don't...

Harry clasped onto the railing as another large wave forced the ship to dip and rise atop the ocean's surface in a far heavier motion than normal. The waves and rocking of the ship were becoming synchronized with the motions of the sickness in his own stomach. Another dip. Another rise. Another urge to throw up.

His other hand clenched the handle of his hook.

He hadn't been sick this morning, unlike all yesterday morning. Thankfully, most of his hangover was gone after spending the entirety of the past thirty-six hours completely bedridden. Uma- bless her heart- gave him the next few days to recover despite the fury she probably had for Harry getting so wasted in the first place. After her strict advice against it. He expected a full tongue-lashing from her when she picked him up from the castle yesterday, but there was none. She probably saw that the long, arduous car-ride alone was enough punishment for him. Which, it definitely was.

Never in his life had Harry been so sick from drinking. Maybe he wouldn't have felt so sick had the night gone without such trouble and embarrassment. There was so much that went wrong. There was so much that went right, too, but that was still a great part of the pain because if those wonderful moments with Ben hadn't felt so right, then maybe the unfortunate moments wouldn't have felt so, so wrong.

Another large wave crashed into the side of the ship. Another threat of sickness.

Donnnnn't.

He took in a slow breath before bringing a canteen of water to his mouth to rehydrate. It was time to get off this ruthless ship. Maybe he could find something to eat before his body completely collapsed from the lack of energy. Everyone else was at Uma's restaurant anyway.

He stabilized his dizzy body and made for the dock. It threw off his balance to step onto an unmoving surface, but after a minute, his body adjusted to the lack of rocking. He prayed a thanks when his stomach settled more comfortably because of it.

The Isle wasn't too lively on this Monday morning. Most everyone was back to work as usual, although in higher spirits— events like the Unity Ball tended to have that effect. Harry, however, was more than ready to have a quiet, completely uneventful day dedicated to full recovery. Full recovery both physically and emotionally.

He was halfway down the dock when those plans slipped away. When the dark navy battered clothes appeared into his view, Harry swore his disheveled brain was playing a trick on him. Hangovers weren't supposed to cause hallucinations, right?

"Harry..."

Hallucinations weren't supposed to speak either. Was Ben actually here on the Isle? Standing there at the other end of the dock? A sweet, rippling sensation swarmed up Harry's body, which was almost equally as surprising as seeing him there.

"Ben," Harry remarked, which sounded half like a question. He took the next several steps to join Ben on the other end, puzzlement all over his face. "What are you doing here?"

Ben looked as troubled as Harry was confused. The last time Ben snuck over to the Isle looking this troubled, he accused Harry of cursing him. But things between them were drastically different now than they were then and because of that, Harry found a nervousness beginning to stir inside of him.

"Hey," Ben looked down to the bruised boots that were on his feet. He looked so different in these clothes, Harry noticed. So different from how he looked in his suit. And, although the battered attire was meant to blend him into the gruff, dangerous character of the Isle, Harry couldn't help but see it define him as anything but. In fact, the mismatched, ill-fitted leather and beanie only made him look softer— cuter— than he did in his sharp, polished royal attire.