The bar was crowded and loud. And the air was dreadfully thick. It was the last place he wanted to be, but far better than the alternative. Killian shuffled through the crowd, the obnoxious beat playing through the speakers and boisterous chatter doing nothing to numb his thoughts. Every noise was muffled and faded out by the conversation that echoed in his mind like a freight train sounding through the night. Reminding him of the last time he saw her before she walked out and slammed the door, disappearing from his life forever.
Killian plopped down onto a stool, slumping over the bar counter as he waited for the bartender. He just needed something to drown the pain. Something strong.
The argument started with something small, quickly spiraling out of control like gasoline to a fire. He was gone too much, he wasn't adventurous enough. He didn't love her anymore. According to Milah. Her tone was laced with anger, eyes devoid of any kind of love... at least any kind of love for him.
What it all boiled down to was that she already knew it was over before it was actually over.
All of the obscenities and excuses she threw at him that night were just a mask. Covering up her betrayal. Everything he thought that he knew was a lie. She was a lie. Her empty promises and scheming attempts of showing him how much she loved him and telling him she was divorcing her husband. It was all just a bloody fantastic charade.
"A rum, please," he drawled out when the bartender approached. Killian watched him fetch a glass and pour the golden brown liquid from the bottle before sliding it over.
Killian clenched his jaw as he grabbed the glass, the bitter memories of the ungrateful bitch embedded in his brain. He threw back the rum, the wretched sting of alcohol sliding down Killian's throat as he gulped it down, thinking about how his whole world had turned upside down in a blink of an eye.
He had never seen it coming. He knew there were problems brewing between them after he lost his hand. After his discharge from the hospital. But he thought he had been imagining it all. He refused to accept that she was embarrassed of him for being injured and having to leave the Navy. He refused to believe that she went back to her husband.
He gave up everything for her.
The relationship had caused tension between Killian and his older brother, and eventually the control Milah had over him pushed Liam away. Killian lost the close bond with him because of her. Liam didn't approve of the relationship from the beginning. He didn't think she was good enough for his brother.
Milah was married, not even separated with her husband at the time and she had tattoos all over her body. Killian fought with his brother many times about her and they eventually stopped talking to each other all together. All of the days they spent working side by side and serving in the British Navy together, turned into bitter memories. And even though Killian crawled back to Liam on his hands and knees, figuratively speaking, begging for forgiveness and even though Killian was now staying at his flat, he was in much too dark a place to hope that things would go back to the way they were before.
He downed another glass of rum. Then another. And a few more. Slowly drowning out the mixture of rage, anguish, and sadness inside of him until he had the courage to stand on his own two feet. Taking a deep breath, he dragged himself out of the stool. Between the jet lag from the treacherously long flight from England and the buzz that took over him, the sting in his heart was still fresh, but somewhat bearable. Killian maneuvered his way through the bar and stepped outside, the chill of the air waking his senses ever so briefly. He took a cab to his brother's place, his words slurred as he attempted to give the driver the address. Killian was surprised he even remembered what it was.
~*~
Emma's phone buzzed on the kitchen counter as she hastily threw her dirty clothes in the basket with a groan. She hated doing laundry on Friday night, but it was the only time when all of the machines weren't being occupied. And now she was reduced to a pair of grey shorts and a yellow tank top as she retrieved a bottle of laundry detergent from the closet and threw it on the pile. It was rather light but she had at least two more loads left before she had to buy more. Her phone was ringing incessantly against the hard surface but she chose to ignore the call. It was most likely her ex-boyfriend, Neal, trying to get back with her. She'll check her phone later.
She grabbed her keys from the counter, and took each of the handles of the basket, making her way across the beige carpet to the front door. She tucked the basket in one arm as she turned the knob with her free hand, locking the door behind her. She couldn't wait to get this over with as she trudged down the hall with determined steps. She walked down the three flights of stairs and unlocked the door to the laundry room.
Entering the empty room, she dropped the basket on the cement floor in front of the washer, relieved that there were a few unoccupied machines. Lifting the lid, she started emptying the clothes into the washer, a mindless task that she always dreaded. While doing so, she noticed that her roommates clothes were mixed in with Emma's. Elsa was one for accidentally throwing hers in with Emma's when she had too many for one load. Emma rolled her eyes and tossed them in the washer.
She loved her roommate dearly, but ever since Elsa started seeing the neighbor across the hall, she had been a little distracted. She mostly stayed at her boyfriend's place, and Emma didn't know why Elsa didn't just move in with him. Not that Emma wanted her to. They had become close friends ever since she posted the ad for a roommate two years ago. Emma would be sad to see her move out, even if only across the hall.
Once all of the clothes were transferred, she grabbed the laundry detergent and tipped it over the opening of the machine, pouring in the contents.
Emma's eyes widened with disbelief when she realized there was hardly a thin stream of the blue liquid left. Elsa must have used the last of it and didn't bother to replace it before she left for the weekend. Emma started shaking the bottle violently, trying to get every last drop, but it wasn't nearly enough. Letting out a loud huff, she started unloading the washer, but then stopped. She had another idea. Emma slammed the lid shut and grabbed the basket and her keys, exiting the room. She went upstairs and unlocked her door to deposit the basket in her apartment. Once she set it on the floor, she went back out, shutting the door behind her and making the small trek across the hall.
She had a key to her neighbor's apartment and he was out of town with Elsa, staying at her sister's place for the weekend. Surely, he would have some laundry detergent. She unlocked the door and went into the apartment, quickly finding some liquid detergent in the closet and snatching it up. She locked the apartment back up and headed for the stairs, passing the elevator on her way as it opened.
~*~
Killian somehow made it to the third floor, although he had no recollection of how he got from the bar to his brother's apartment. All he knew was that the door of the elevator was in front of him as it ascended, and he was positive that he would not have survived the stairs. He was now feeling the effects of the rum, his mind unfocused, his eyes lazy and his vision disoriented. He felt dizzy from just watching the elevator doors open.
Now, he just had to find which apartment was Liam's.
Killian had rarely visited his brother since he moved to New York to begin teaching, and Killian's stay was very brief before he dropped off his luggage and left for the bar. Liam had already went with his girlfriend for the weekend when Killian's plane arrived in New York. Liam didn't even bother to meet him at the airport. He left a key under the doormat. That's how estranged they had become. Killian was shocked when his brother even agreed to let him stay while he attempted to pick up the pieces from his breakup. He supposed it was because he had told Liam he was no longer with Milah and he wanted to turn his life around.
Stepping out of the elevator, a flash of golden hair passed him. He barely got a glimpse of her face before she was heading towards the stairway, but her backside was quite the view. Killian had to blink to make sure he was not hallucinating. Either he was really smashed or she had a really hot ass, perhaps both. Sexy, toned legs quickly disappeared as she fled down the stairs, not even noticing his presence. Killian had to remind himself what he was doing as he tried to shake the image out of his mind.
Oh yes, finding his brother's apartment.
He snapped out of his gaze and turned around, trudging down the hall., trying to remember which apartment number it was.
Liam's address was in his phone, but Killian was really in no condition to try and search through his cell to successfully pull up the apartment number. He saw one door read 8C, and was certain that was his brother's, although it could also have been 6C, but it was hard to tell when the number and letter were drifting through his blurry vision like they were.
Wow, he was really trashed. He just needed to sleep it off. He stepped up to the door and looked down to fish out his keys, seeing there was a doormat with a picture of what he made out to be a sailboat. Yes, this was definitely the one.
Now, if only he could unlock the door.
He struggled with the keys, attempting to find the correct one in his drunken state (he only had two keys). Killian shifted a bit, almost stumbling over, but with slow success at trying to keep his good hand from shifting, he managed to slide the apartment key in the hole. Before he could even turn the key, the door opened. He must have forgotten to lock it when he left for the bar. Oh well, he was really too drunk to give a fuck.
Stumbling into the apartment with movements that were far from graceful, he shoved his keys in his pocket and made his way to the bedroom, running into a laundry basket and some furniture and mumbling a string of curses along the way. When he reached the first door he could find, he shut it behind him and chucked of his shoes, wondering why the bedroom had tiled floor.
He undressed himself with great struggle, barely able to unbutton his shirt, lazily tossing it to the floor. Hooking his thumbs underneath the hem of his pants and boxers, he decided to screw it all; he hated sleeping with his clothes on, so he shoved the offending material down with force and kicked them off until he was bare naked, besides his black socks and the chain around his neck with Naval charms. He reached for what he thought was the bed, quickly realizing that it was the bathtub when there wasn't a mattress or blankets, but solid walls and a great big hole instead. He got in anyway, deciding this was probably better in case he had to vomit. And at this point, he was too far gone to care.
He settled in the tub, feeling the coolness against his back as he leaned his head on the edge and stared at the dark ceiling. With the loneliness of the apartment, he could feel the pain rising to the surface again. He ran his hand over his face and through his hair, expelling a long, weary sigh that was nowhere close to expressing how much sorrow he felt. After enduring three bloody years of Milah's nonstop complaints about her husband every chance she got, how could she to do this to him? How could she just betray him and leave after everything?
Snapping his eyelids shut, he tried to summon other thoughts. Anything to help dull the misery he felt. Anything that would temporarily relieve the unbelievable sadness that overwhelmed him. So he thought of the last image he could recall; blonde hair, milky skin and long legs. Killian forced himself to stay focused on her, not that it was very difficult. And it was working. His cock started stirring to life and he couldn't resist the urge to touch himself, to curl his hand around his hard cock at the image invading his thoughts.
