Authors note:chapter comes with the song: Halestorm- I miss misery.
watch?v=YpJAmlnBxoA
enjoy.
Chapter 3: a different kind of drunkenness
It's not a good fight. It's not a pretty one either. It's not efficient or cruel enough to be considered a serious fight yet it's not flashy or stylistic enough to be considered a 'don't mess with me fight' the kind that is meant to show anyone watching what you could do. L can barely call it a fight at all… it's more like a brawl really.
Harry returned my punch with interest, sending a knee to my stomach and a blow to my face. I menage to block the knee with two palms but the punch lands, poorly, on my ear and sends my back with my ears ringing.
People rush to get out of our way and we carry this on with poorly aimed punches and kicks. I realize that he must be drunk as well or else something really wrong has happened to the fighter I remember.
All around us people are yelling and cheering. we move fast, a kick, a block a punch and on we go. A table is cleared instantly as I spy and opening and manage to land a solid kick to his face. I hear him grunt on pain as he is sent reeling backwards as he tries to maintain balance. close but no cigar. he crashes onto the table that the others cleared away and his palm goes to his injured lip.
"Had enough?" I bark at him, trying my best to not let on how out of breath I am, to sound calm and sure of myself. I force myself to smile, to not show how long it's been since I've been in a fight with someone who could go toe to toe with me.
Harry looks back at me and whips a drop of blood from his split lip, it's gonna bruise, I think, but probably not leave any preeminent scars.
He is smiling, no, he is downright beaming at me as he reaches for a glass that hasn't been knocked over and downs it. he spits some beer and blood to the side, not taking his eyes of the smug smile off me. then, slowly, he reaches to his belt and pulls out his name's sake, his father's hook. The crescent piece of metal is as shining as ever, well taken care of an beloved by it's owner. it's blunt- mostly, the tip would have me hooked and bleeding like a freshly caught trout. With white knuckles around the precious hook's handle to rushes back at me.
well this is just annoying.
I roll out of the way as the brutal weapon flies to where my shoulder was just a moment ago, a part of my tell me that that swing was a little to slow to have real heart behind it but that's not a chance I am willing to take, I use the momentum to reach for my boot and draw out a dagger. when I rise back to my feet I use it to meet his hook when he strikes with it. He still punches and kicks and I realize with relief that he drew the hook more to make a point than anything else. it's a relief, but not a big one as he is still fast and wild in his movement. I try to meet him with similar fire.
We are both sweaty and out of breath and by Chronos this is almost making to wish for a different kind of violent activity involving me and him. This is different kind of drunkenness.
I don't have time to think of the best way to think anymore of the best way to react. the Adrenalin and alcohol and the sheer sinful joy of it have taken over completely. my body dodges and avoids the blows on it's own as though I was a puppet to my own instinct . I dish out blows and kicks and harry returns them with equal frenzy. a part of my brain that might be muscle memory and maybe just plain survival instinct send orders to my legs to move, to jump, to duck and I obey.
I recognize a full swinging blow of the hook coming towards me and my dagger is there before I have time to move away. I catch the blow mere inches from my face and the sheer force of it sends vibrations through it to my entire arm. I realize with a jolt of fear that he is not holding back anymore.
I don't have time to consider the best way to approach this new predicament because suddenly he lands a kick, heel first, right into my stomach.
moves like this can end a fight as quickly as it began. I can try to stay standing but I decide to gain some distance from him instead- and so I let go of my balance. I am shot back with a force that knocks the air out of me, and brings out a pathetic whimper as I fly and crash on the floor, it hurts like a bitch but at least I am away from Harry.
Around us the cheering and shouting goes on, I think I can hear Uma yelling something as well but I can't make any of it. The only thing in the room, in the world, is this sadistic dance I found myself in.
I have to end it quick or it will drag to long, already the fight is close to that dangerous zone in which the outcome would be decided by stamina- and I don't like my chances there. I rely on speed and technique when I fight, get in quick get out faster, while harry relays on brutality and his ability to wear down his opponent's resolve to dust. if this goes on he wins . and it's simply not an option.
I grab the other knife from my other boot and hold them both before me, ready to meet him and his hook head on. he smiles, and I find that despite myself- so do I. it's the sort of anger management and letting off steam that I needed. but it's not over yet.
my blood is roaring in my ears in a rush of Adrenalin and alcohol and something that is so much like desire but so much more destructive. Blue eyes meeting gold ones. Him with a hook, me with my daggers. bring it on.
He starts moving towards me in something that may or may not be this fight's closing move when suddenly he is tackled by the color yellow.
No, wait, that makes no sense.
The blur that sends harry off his feet and crashing into a mass of chairs and cheering people is not the color yellow but rather- Gill.
it's easy to forget the behind that lovely smile and puppy dog attitude, Gill is one of the most brutal fighters the isle has to offer- that the inherited his instincts, his speed and his ability to break bones and teeth from the human who went tow to tow with the beast. It's easy to forget that he is the sort of guy who would make childish and stupid jokes, but then walk into a fighting cage and come out while the other guy needs to be scraped off the floor. easy to forget. I remember it now, as I see him, or rather- almost see him, moving fast and with a rugby tackle pushes harry hook away and to the floor in one quick move. it's a terrifying sight, and I am happy I am not on the receiving end of this one. But Gill would never attack his superiors, not unless...
"I said enough!" Uma roars. This time I hear her loud and clear.
There are moments when one could attempt to challenge one's captain- This is one hundred percent not one of them. Uma is furious, she i standing on the bar, teeth bare and sword blazing, just waiting to see if either me or Harry were feeling lucky enough to test her.
I look to the point where Harry landed, now being lifted back to his feet by Gill and Johnny, one of the larger lads. Harry sways as he tries to straight before his captain.
he is bruised, bloody, and he has something that almost resembles an after sex glow about him with the dilated irises and the flushed face and everything. We are both out of breath as we look at the mess we've made of the bar. it's bad.
There are tables pushed every which way and chairs tossed about the room. There is beer and rum and a mush that was once potato chips before it found it's was to the floor and been stepped in repeatedly. there is broken glass and blood and mud and as I look around I slightly guess and the mess is not made entirely by us but rather with a hearty contribution of our crew mates who were all too eager to cheer us on. this doesn't change the fact the the place is an absolute disaster, and knowing aunt Ursula this is not gonna end well.
"I'm so sor-"
"No. shut up" she stops me "just shut up". she looks beyond furious.
"I didn't mean-" I try again
Uma looks like she is another word from me from exploding. she let's out a long breath and says in a strained tone "I'm gonna let you off the hook because of today… and harry… oh dammit just get the hell out of my face".
"Uma" harry tries to plead with her
"Now!" she roars. That's an end of discussion if I have ever seen one
"the rest of you get to work"
Outside the cold hits me like a slap in the face. I shiver and curl into my jacket, already missing the warmth within the bar. it's the end of summer, that loathsome time of the year when I could leave the flat wearing nothing and by nightfall curse my decision to do so. this jacket- for example- was a bad choice. harry joins me joins me out in the cold and looks, annoyingly, undisturbed by it. I curse under my breath
"That was a nice punch" he muses
"Wish I could say the same" I bite back. I could,actually, say the same as is clear from the still very present pain in my stomach, but I'll be damned if I give him this satisfaction.
"Oh come on, I had ya at my mercy" he say.
Harry hook stands nearly a full head over me even when I'm on hills. He looks down at me and smiles- it's a warm, fond, smile and it feels painfully nostalgic. it makes me miss a different time- a time when this was the only smile he had for me. It's as though this fight or the one before never happened. It's as though he never led to me that he loved me only to toss me aside like a rag doll. Used me as a band aid for a broken heart stomped at by Mal. It always goes back to Mal with us it seems.
"I would have gutted you like a fish" I snarl at him, he is close enough that I don't have to raise my voice to threaten him.
"Keep telling yerself that" he says.
We stand there is a tense silence for another moment before I can't stand any longer and walk away. I stop and bend down to sheath my dagger hack at my boot, checking with a small brush of my fingers that the one in the other boot is still there and wasn't lost in the fight. A heavy set of boots behind me tells me he is still following along.
"what do you want harry?" I ask, not even looking at him as I try to figure out the least troublesome way home and the best way to get rid of him without further violence. I am tired and I just want to curl up in my hammock and sleep away the inevitable hangover.
"Not sure" he admits "so are ye back?" he asks
"It would seem so" I say "Uma says she needs me"
"I wonder why" he ponders and I try to figure out if he is being sarcastic or not, has the fight taken away the edge of his madness or does he still have energy to burn through, if he does, can I get him to push it somewhere else. I turn to face him.
"Probably my unbearable charm" I say, sarcasm dripping and expecting to see an equally smug smile. But when I look at his face I find something I did not expect.
He is as serious as a heart attack "what?" I ask, unsure what else to say anymore.
He walks nearer still.
He is so close now, that in the chill of the night I can feel the heat radiating off him through his tattered shirt. He was always abnormally warm, like a human oven to curl up to under blankets. it's as if his skin can't actually contain the fire within him, the burning inferno in his heart that makes him do everything so damn aggressively. he is made of fire and it looks for outlets- in fighting, in fucking, in dancing. I used to think that the warmth of him was simply more of this fire trying to get out. He places a large palm on my shoulder, is moves softly to rest at the crook of my neck. I look up to say something, anything really, but then he leans closer, his hot breath tingling against the shell of my ear. It send a wild shiver down my spine and I fight to not close my eyes. This is not supposed to be tempting or arousing and I am annoyed at the fact that I need to remind my body of that.
"if ye ever betray her, or disappear again when she needs you, I'll be coming after ya myself". I'ts just a whisper, but it make me catch my breath.
I stand there completely frozen, unsure what to do or say, until I remember that being threatened by the man who broke me and with whom I just had a full on bar fight should not be considered a sexy affair. that it shouldn't make me feel this giddy or aroused and that I am absolutely done looking weak in front of this man. he wants to play tough? fine. I am not playing his stupid game any longer.
I push my palm against his chest and shove him away from me as hard as I can. He stumbles back a bit from surprise at my reaction. I think that he probably expected to still have power to turn my inside into liquid.
"Listen, first mate" I spit, this caught his attention alright "I am back because Uma came to me and asked me back. She wants me as part the crew, and she wants me as part of the team. So unless you feel like explaining to your captain why I got up and left I suggest you behave yourself. I can act like an adult and help us take down Auradon. Can you?".
For a moment, just a split second, I see in his eyes that I caught him off guard. But then it's shoved back behind the ever smug grin of Harry Hook.
"Yes ma'am"
When I arrive back in our flat I do it on tiptoes, knowing that my father would normally be asleep or deep in work at this time of the evening and knowing how mad he gets when disturbed. I take of my boots carefully and place them careful still on the floor. I am about to peek my head through the door to see if he is awake and ask him if he would like me to make him some tea when it hits me.
Hand still holding the doorknob I stand there, rigid and and more lost than I have ever felt. Our flat is cold and dark and as quiet as death… no… bad allegory. But I don't have another. It's not like we made a lot of noise all the time. We could, when we laughed or screamed at one another. But not all the time.
But it turns out that simply knowing that another person was alive and breathing in the other room made a difference, as if simply having another presence in the house made it feel warmer and nicer to sleep in. now id feels like the loneliest place in the world.
In that moment there is a part of me that wants to go back to the bar and beg Uma to let me stay. to sleep over like we did when we were kids, to talk about boys and plan mischief under our blankets until aunt Ursula would come it and scream at us to shut the hell up and go to sleep.
In this silent moment in the apartment I miss those days so much it physically hurts like my heart has been crushed to a burning coal.
I realize that I caved in on myself, that I am standing alone in an empty house, holding a doorknob to an empty room, caved in on myself because I can't even stand straight.
I let out a sound that I am not quite sure if it was meant to be a laugh or a sob and force myself to stand up.
My father did not raise a weak daughter.
I will survive this. I will get to Auradon and I will bring them to their knees with my crew. I will finally confront my bitch of a mother who left us here to die.
Leaving us both here will be her worst regret.
I try to make as much noise as I can as I clean up and undress and go to sleep, anything I can to feel not as alone in this house.
That night I curl to sleep in my hammock, telling myself that tomorrow morning first thing i will move my belongings to the bedroom.
than you so much for reading!
at the moment I am still writing at the weird pace of almost a chapter a day but I assume it will go down a bit once I calm down...
I do have the rest of the plot planned out so that's a good sign for this things hopeful longevity.