Ian and I hadn't exchanged even the politest greeting after what had happened back on the Jolly Roger. At first, I'd found it to be more annoying than troubling. With each passing day, I'd started to relive the moments that had created this. The acidic effect of my words soon burned me on the inside. Of course, reliving his exit had added to my mounting guilt.
I had been careless with my words and insensitive to his feelings. I hadn't known that, at the time. My guilt and shame for what I had done only festered to an ugly sore with each passing day of no communication.
Every time I'd manifest the courage to apologize, the hurt in his eyes would stop me.
You're the last person he cares to talk to, a chilling voice in my mind warned me.
So, instead of facing him on campus, I'd sit alone in the corner lunch room booth. Ian would look my way and then turn his head, an unreadable expression on his face.
One of us had been too stubborn and the other too scared to end this destructive exchange of "silent treatment" tactics.
The gossips of every level had made it worse by the tales they'd been spreading. According to those that were supposed to be "in the know", Ian and I had been an item. Our sudden shift in interaction, or should I say lack of interaction had created a worse rumor than the first. Ian and I had broken up after a nasty, public argument over him cheating on me.
Obviously, neither of them had even a shred of truth to them. We, Ian and I, had known that. The rest of the clueless student population had believed it.
A desperate need to end the silence or my nagging conscience had motivated me to correct the wrong of the past. If Ian had cared at all about me or our friendship, it would've ended within hours rather than stretching for days.
It applies to you too, my conscience retorted.
If I'd cared enough about him, I would've to put an end to this unnecessary stalemate.
If there was a way to find the words again, Ian and I would, at the very least, salvage the what remained our fledgling friendship.
Considering where it had been said and what I'd said, school would be the worst possible place to do what needed to be done. It had to be done in Storybrooke. It had to be done where I'd made my mistake the first time, the Jolly Roger.
He'd come if Killian had asked. They had developed a special bond, a trust, that would lead Ian to come without hesitation.
The unexpected warmth better weather beckoned me that Saturday morning, along with my bicycle, to the place I hadn't been to in days.
Killian stood by the boat, arms open for me to step into.
"Lucy, love."
As soon as the love in his arms surrounded me, all that I'd held pent up in me flowed out. In the presence of the massive teenage population of the high school, I'd found it easier to hide it rather than let it show.
"This is all my fault. If I could take it all back I would."
He rubbed my back as I freed everything I'd been thinking all week.
"The worst part is that I have no idea how to fix the mess I've made."
The massaging circles he'd been making on my back stopped.
"Ian's as miserable as you are, darling." Killian pointed out.
Killian had only stated the obvious. I'd seen that much at school.
"However, friendship and love are a team effort. It can't be only you. Ian has to do his part."
Killian the Wise had confirmed what I'd known to be the answer, in the back of my mind.
I stepped out of his arms, straightened my spine, and looked into Killian's eyes.
"That's why I'm here. He's been avoiding me all week, even when I try to talk to him."
Killian let his arms fall to his sides.
"You need my help, love?." Killian guessed.
The question had come out in an uneven way.
"I need your help, please. I'd like to at least still be friends by the time Happy Endings Day comes."
A crooked, all-knowing grin stretched across his face. Its energy lit his eyes up when he'd looked at me.
"That's what you'd settle for, but it isn't what you want the most."
The prickly heat of embarrassment travelled up my neck and up to my face.
"You want to him to see you differently, as more than his best friend."
Either Killian had been trained by Emma to detect a lie or we'd been that obvious without realizing it.
"Being an old pirate has taught me to observe those around him. I notice more than you think I do. Somethings don't change over three centuries."
The words that I should've been saying this whole time exited my brain and entered reality.
"I want to be more than his best friend, yes. I'm afraid that I might be wrong about us, if it's just one more thing in my life that I'd come to regret."
Killian grinned.
"Congratulations, love, you've taken the first step fixing this mess."
Only the first step, I reminded myself.
"Now, you and Ian need to be truthful with each other."
Killian stepped back.
"Anything you refuse to say becomes a secret you carry around. Nothing good comes out of that."
It had been serious advice despite the lighthearted way it had come out.
"Take it from a man who knows. Emma and I learned the hard way as well. Truth frees both of you, but secrets only keep two people apart. Too much time apart makes things harder. Honesty is the only way for you two to get past what has already happened."
If Ian had meant anything at all to me, two-way honesty had to happen.
"Don't worry, Lucy love. Happy Endings Day might have a whole new meaning for you."
A halo of sunlight surrounded his dark hair.
Killian had been my angel that day. When I'd lost hope, he'd found more for me to cling to.
"Come back to the Jolly Roger tomorrow around noon. I'll make sure to get Ian back here after I know you're below deck. You and Ian will work this out. I've seen the way he looks at you."
He confidence in the last sentence had been his, even if I had wished to have that same assurance. Sunday afternoon, my life would change for the best or for the better.