hooked
The waves are harsh and cold, unforgiving to the little boy wearing his Sunday best. He knows he won't be missed; his father's six feet under, and his mother drowns herself deeper in bottles of bourbon with every passing day. And so maybe, the boy thinks, letting the water wash over his small pink toes, maybe running away like this isn't such a bad idea after all. Maybe it's better than living life in slow motion, mopping up his mother's messes and wishing upon stars for something, anything better to come along.
The wind picks up, sweeping the boy's hair into a halo around his head. There's a small sailing boat docked about a hundred paces away from him, bobbing up and down with the current. The beach is otherwise deserted and silent, but for the cawing of the gulls overhead and the soft whisper of the waves. They call to him, sing his name like a Siren would call to a sailor, and just like that, the boy's mind is made up.
The next morning, a mother wakes from her drunken haze to find her only son gone. Afternoon comes and a skipper prepares to set sail, only to find his trusty boat missing from its port, along with all of his supplies. And by the time the full moon rises, the boy is long gone, his little boat bobbing up and down in the waves with the whole world spread out before him.
The woman's name is Milah, and only the charming blue of the sea can outdo her in beauty and wit. The little boy is now a man and his little boat is now a ship. Where once he had a drunken mother, now he has an intoxicated crew. But in his heart, at his core, he is the same as he was all those years ago, dressed in his Sunday best and watching the tide's rise and fall.
When Milah smiles at him, something like an iron fist clutches at his heart. He wonders if this could be love. [It is.] He wonders if she loves him back. [She does.] He wonders if it will last. [It does.]
When she kisses him for the first time, in a shadowed corner of the bar between games of poker, her lips taste like the sea. And when she lets him peel away her layers one by one, as the full moon rises up over the water, her skin is like salt and grains of sand.
Of course, all good things come with a price. In Milah's case, that means a husband. But he is a meek, scrawny man, and cowardice is buried in his bones. It's all too easy to defeat him and send him on his way.
Milah, of course, broods. But when he comes to her and they are alone, all thoughts of her old life - her home, her husband, her son - are chased away as they make love in the moonlight. He never imagined he could love someone as much as he loves the sea, but he is happy to be mistaken, just this once.
His wounds are deep and he knows they will never heal. The Dark One has taken his woman and his hand, and without them, he is barely human. Barely. For he still has the sea, the ocean, the waves, and on stormy nights when the water crashes over the hull of the ship, and the sails tremble in the wind, he can forget, at least for a little while.
But soon it all comes bursting back, burying him amid memories of skin against skin, lips and lips, then the awful, unimaginable pain of it being stolen. And creeping in amongst the sorrow, the heartbreak, is his old friend revenge, and what is left of his heart turns as black as the darkest depths of the ocean.
The hook as his hand is a reminder, penance for his arrogance. Its steel is as cold as his heart, and he learns to love the way it serves him, slicing and tearing and shredding flesh from bone. His greatest weapon sprung from his greatest sacrifice. It feels good to be feared like he is now.
The place is called Neverland, the boy is called Peter, and the girl is Wendy. [She is a child with hazelnut hair and eyes like a winter sky and he is afraid of what she makes him feel.] He professes hate, envy, greed, quashing his desire for the girl amongst desire for revenge. [But she is so beautiful, and he is falling in love all over again.]
And of course, she wins. Good always wins, after all. [He wishes she were evil like him, but then, where's the fun in that?]
And of course, she leaves. As they do. [Damn his wandering heart.]
When he first meets Emma, he hates her. She's blonde - he hates blondes - and comes with baggage. But then. [Not that he will admit it.] She grows on him. [And maybe being blonde isn't so bad after all.]
But then he's on their side, then he's not, then he is again, and his life feels like a game with ever-changing rules. [He hates being played.]
And then Emma foils his plans once more. [How the hell did they do it?] But when she disappears into the portal, instead of feeling angry and cheated, there's the slightest squeeze of his heart and for a moment he finds it hard to breathe. Then the sensation is gone as soon as it came. [He knows what it is, god, he thought he would never love again, and why does it have to be Emma?]
Maybe, he thinks, watching the pale waters of the lake, maybe he's still that little boy, cleaning up Cora's messes and wishing upon a star for things to change. Maybe his heart remains that little bit softer than he ever believed it could be, and maybe that's not the worst thing in the world. Maybe he deserves it.
But then evil wins once more, and he's on his way to Storybrooke, and vows to never trust his heart over his head again. [But maybe he's lying. Just a little.]
Author's Note: I have an unhealthy obsession with Hook. He's so absolutely gorgeous. So I wrote this, partly for me, and partly as a HAPPY NEW YEAR present for you all. I'm between holidays at the moment, and currently enjoying staying in my pyjamas all day. So, anyway, please review.
ON A SIDE NOTE, anyone here watch Grimm? I am so infatuated with it right now, it's not funny. Nick is absolutely beautiful, and Monroe is hilarious! Here in Aus, 1x11 is the latest one that's aired, and I'm so desperate for more. *Sigh.*
ON A FURTHER SIDE NOTE, anyone seen The Hobbit yet? I did, and I don't care about any terrible reviews, because IT WAS FRIGGIN AMAZING. Martin Freeman is absolute perfection. God, he's so gorgeous.