Barely Breathing

Chapter 2: Secrets

Killian's POV

Emma Swan. Such a simple name for such an amazing person. I knew from the moment she ran into me at the hospital I was doomed. It's not that I believe in all that "love at first sight" shit but Emma, she's special. Golden hair, mesmerizing emerald eyes and a smile that can light up a night sky. I drove home from the hospital a smile plastered on my face. Officially the greatest day of my life so far; I got released from the hospital after a six month stay and I met Emma Swan. I don't think anything can compare.

I arrived at the diner at 6:45, fifteen minutes early. The night was going great until I asked what she was sick with. "Cystic Fibrosis". The words hit me like a brick. I tried to pretend that everything was okay, that I wasn't internally screaming. If she noticed anything she didn't show it. Why did she have to have CF? That was the absolute last thing I thought she would say. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I decided to ignore this news and try to have fun with the beautiful girl in front of me.

When that date ended, I walked her to her car where she kissed me. It caught me so off guard I forgot why I was panicking earlier. When she pulled away I felt like I was in a daze as I walked back to my blood red Chevy pickup. I didn't remember until I shut the car door. Then I realized it would never work. It couldn't work. My hands clenched into fists and I hit the steering wheel full force.

"Shit!" I yelled. "Shit, shit, shit." I ran my hands through my dark hair and then buried my face in my hands. I stayed there, sitting in my Chevy in the parking lot of a diner for a good ten minutes before I pulled away an made my way home. When I got there I instantly went to my laptop and FaceTimed my brother Liam.

"Killian?" A familiar female voice answered.

"Elsa! How is my favorite sister-in-law?" I asked.

"Last time I checked Liam hasn't proposed."

"Oh he will. Trust me. I guarantee you that ring will be appearing in the near future. Actually I called to speak with Liam."

As if on cue Liam appeared from around the corner. "Did I hear my name?"
"Liam! How great to see you and your beautiful girlfriend." Elsa's cheeks tinged pink as she awkwardly stumbled from her chair and out of the room. "Liam, are you ever gonna propose? You'd said you were planning it last time I called yet I see no ring on her finger! You can't keep a girl. Like that waiting."
"Shhhh! The ring is right here," he whisper-yelled as he pulled out a blue velvet box. I nodded approvingly and he put it back. "Now why did you call?"
"Because brother. I have quite the predicament on my hands," I paused, unsure of I should continue. "I'm kind of, sort of dating a girl with CF too."
"What?! (A), how can you kind of "sort of" be dating this girl and (B), just, why? Especially after Milah. Kill, you're torturing yourself."
I groaned. "I know. But obviously I didn't know that she had CF before I asked her out." Liam didn't say anything, just gave me a look that urged me to keep explaining. "She's just mesmerizing. I can't help how I feel. With golden hair and green eyes that just captivate you, I couldn't bear to tell her. Gods, Liam, what do I do?"
"Well, I don't know brother. That's quite the predicament."
"I know. The truth is, I could really see myself falling for her."
"Killian, I'm gonna let you in on something I wish someone would've told me when I first started liking Elsa: and that is never ever give up on something that could give you happiness. Even if it seems difficult or hard or downright impossible. Love is rare. Don't let it go," he ended his speech with a quote from Frozen which I found to be quite funny seeing as his girlfriend's name was Elsa.
I smiled and nodded thanking him and telling him to call when he proposed before I signed off.

~***~

All of that was two years ago. We dated for seven wonderous months before I told her. We had a big blowout fight about it that ended with the demise of our relationship. I know I shouldn't have waited to tell her but I loved her and I knew our love meant one of our deaths and I couldn't lose her. I haven't seen my Swan since. 
I shook my head at the memory and decided to hit the bar despite what my doctors recommend. When I entered The Jolly Roger (the bar) I saw my long time best friend Philip and his girl Aurora. I was surprised to see her since she's been quite distant lately. She blames it on her job at the hospital as an infant nurse since she works the night shift, but I suspect it's more than mere tiredness. Philip smiles widely as I walk towards them.

"Fancy seeing you here, Jones. Am I mistaken or didn't your doctors tell you no drinking?" Philip stated accusingly.
"And when has that ever stopped me before?" I replied, smirking before ordered my regular.
"Killian, you really shouldn't drink it's not good for your condition," Aurora said in her usual maternal voice. I rolled my eyes as I remember how they found each other.
I introduced the both of them after I met her back in my first stay at the hospital. I was freaking out at three in the morning and she was the only nurse in the corridor. Needless to say if it weren't for her I probably would've been put into a different hospital. She calmed me down and convinced me staying there was to help me get better. To dull the effects of my condition since they can't make it go away.
I smiled as I looked at their closeness before me. I yearned for that kind of bond and togetherness. I yearned for Emma to be the answer. But all my yearning screeched to a halt just short of the brick wall stopping that from ever happening with her. That brick wall was science, human biology, the mundane human immune system. The fates always seem to be moving against me, I thought just as my drink arrived. I downed it all at once and slammed the glass on the mahogany surface with a loud clink! sound, implying it was more than ready for the next round. The bartender to which happily complied. Unfortunately, I got stuck the most perceptive best friend in Maine.
"What's with all the haste Jones?" Philip asked. "Love got you down?"
I huffed a halfhearted laugh, "You could say that." I downed the next round and the one after that, and the one after that, and the one after that. Before long my half-drunken mind realized I was now alone, drinking my sorrows, like some cheesy cliche out of a Hallmark rom-com. I looked at the full pint in front of me. I saw my hand reach for it, but I wasn't the one controlling it. As the burning amber liquid hit my throat I closed my eyes, wishing away my disease, wishing to be anybody but me. 

I wish I was worth the fight. 

~***~

I blinked my eyes and spots danced across my already blurry vision. It took me about one minute to recognize the pounding hangover and another two to realize I wasn't in my condo. I forced my aching head to turn and look beside me to see what mistake was awaiting me this time. A mound of short, and messy synthetically colored bluish-black hair sat on top of a sleeping form. I grimaced against the wave of nausea that overcame me. The vomit that followed was over a toilet bowl that didn't belong to me in a very blue bathroom. After splashing my face with cold water over and over again, I slipped into my clothes from the previous night and got out of the foreign apartment without a second glance. I absentmindedly wondered how I had gotten to this part of town as I stepped out of the one-night-stand's building. I could see my breath coming out in clouds in the November morning air. I brought my hands to my mouth, blowing on them to keep warm. It had been unseasonably warm the night before and therefore I had no coat. 

I soon remembered I had no clue what time it was, I got out my phone and saw a clear 8:05 appear on the lock screen. "Shit," I cursed. "I'm late. Shit, shit, shit." I quickly looked up the next bus back to Storybrooke. I arrived back at my condo at 8:30, with no time to shower or brush my teeth after changing. I had an interview at 9 that was twenty-five minutes away and I prayed that the person before him took longer than expected as I got into my truck. 
I was sitting in the waiting room earlier than I planned at 9:08, but luckily just as I hoped, whoever was before me was taking longer. At 9:15 a familiar figure exited the designated interview room. Her eyes still sparkled with her mesmerizing kind nature as she shook the interviewer's hand. Her same golden-blonde locks were tied up in a professional looking bun and she was wearing a sleek, white blouse with a pale pink pencil skirt and tan heels. I stood up,  signaling I was next in line but my eyes never left the blonde woman as she turned around. Her green eyes widened in recognition. 

"Killian."

"Emma."