K. Jones | Small Talk and Mediocre Coffee

Better Off

Soft rocking pulls Killian out of a deep sleep. He lets out a quiet groan, rolls over, and opens his eyes. His brow furrows as he takes in his surroundings. He is not in his apartment. No, he's on a ship – a ship he's always dreamed of having. This is what he's always wanted.

Still, he can't seem to shake the feeling that something is wrong. He feels wrong. Most mornings he wakes up in a panic after another restless night's sleep. He's been haunted by nightmares every night for years – it's become just a part of him now. But this morning he was not met with fear and anxiety. No, instead, he was met with peace.

Is this real?

Slowly, he sits up and moves to the edge of the bed. His feet meet the cold, wooden floorboards and he can hear waves crashing into the exterior of the ship. This feels real. Deciding he should leave the cabin and figure out where he is, he stands up. He snatches the flannel draped over a chair in the corner of the room and throws it over his t-shirt before carefully making his way up the steps to the door.

Sunlight floods his vision and he closes his eyes. Once they adjust, he's able to look over the deck. However, he doesn't believe his eyes.

"Morning, pirate."

You're standing there, leaning against the railing. You had been looking out at the morning sunrise before Killian's footsteps pulled your attention toward the back of the vessel. Killian is left speechless. He doesn't miss how your voice is laced thick with affection. And as he looks at you, practically glowing in the morning sun with a smile sweet as honey pulling at your lips, he can't help the thought that crosses his mind. You look like a dream: bundled up in his leather jacket that seems to be three or four sizes too big for your frame with your hands wrapped around a hot cup of coffee.

You place your mug down and approach him. Killian holds his breath as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him toward you. His head is spinning. His eyes are wide. But as you connect your lips with his, he knows that he's done for. Forget the ship, the sunrise, the sea: this is what he's always wanted. You manage to bring peace to the darkest reaches of his soul. His old, weary heart will always be yours.

Killian grabs your waist and pulls you in closer. The kiss is slow and sweet and lazy. It's perfect. Killian is pretty sure this is what heaven feels like.

As he gets lost in you, he shuts out everything else. He doesn't notice the storm clouds rolling in from the west or how the golden, morning sky has been replaced by a dark, ominous gray. Loud, booming thunder shakes the vessel, causing his eyes to snap open. You're no longer in his embrace. Instead, you're standing on the edge of the ship. He rushes toward you, wanting to pull you away from the sea's violent waves, but he stops in his tracks as you turn to face him.

You're no longer you.

You have been replaced by a face that haunts him every night in his dreams. He feels like his heart has been ripped out of his chest. Although his mind is screaming at him to reach out to you, he's frozen in place as you teeter precariously on the ship's edge. Your eyes meet his and it sends a shiver through his body; they lack their usual warmth.

"You could have saved me."

Killian's brow furrows at your words. He opens his mouth to ask what you're talking about, but before he can speak your foot slips off the deck and your body falls into the sea. A pained, ferocious cry escapes from Killian as he chases after you. Without thinking, he dives headfirst into the waves.

He will not lose you.

His eyes strain in the water's darkness, searching for you. He begins to panic as all he sees is a vast emptiness. His lungs feel like they're on fire, but he's afraid that if he goes up for air that you'll slip right through his fingers. As his vision blurs and his movements slow, he calls out for you one last time. He gets swept up in the water before everything goes black after hitting his head, hard.