Chocolate leaves a taste of an old memory on his lips.
The cocoa he remembers is different, more bitter, and has a taste of excitement and danger.
At the age of eight, he and Liam used to sneak into the kitchen on their tiptoes to take a piece of the heavily guarded treasure, hidden in a box on the top shelf, for honored guests only.
It was always too bitter for them to like it, and when Mother caught them with sticky hands, Liam used to say it was all his fault. It didn't stop them for trying again every time.
His tongue has a taste of childhood, of mourning and longing, of everything he had and lost.
The memory is so vivid that he can almost feel it, the smell of chocolate, the rustling of silver paper, his Father's hand strikes when he discovered the half-eaten pack. Killian can almost feel the skin searing, the pain and humiliation, and with them he can sail off into more distant memories, happier memories, to the period when time went by normally, and everything felt easier.
"Well, is it good? You like it?"
Henry looks at him with eyes full of anticipation, and brings him back to reality.
He thinks he does.
