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The docks were covered in loneliness that night.
The winds, lazier than usual, caressed the wood with cruelty. Ships creaked, keeping a secret desperate to fly away. A very quiet secret, sitting on the rocks nearby, swallowing hard the rum as if that could brush away the pain.
The young boy sat alone, for long enough to stop watching a desired sunset and to start counting stars that weren't there. The smell of blood and rum stuck with him, mixing with the soft relief of the sea breeze. With his fingers he tap the rough surface. Fast. Anxious.
«Hurt», he thought.
The pain increased again, reminded him that it was still there. That what had happened that day wasn't something forgettable. As it was the first time that old vicious man had laid hands on the lad. On his lad.
Although it's not like he had never seen him getting violent. Captain Hook got mad. A lot. But his rage was usually directed to other people.
Never his own son. Never none of their kids.
And so the lonely, quiet boy had another sip from that poison. Because right now, not even rum left a pleasant feeling in him. Not even the wise waves could calm him down. Nor the dark sky. Nor the soft caresses he casually left on his own beaten chest.
«But she would», he thought. «She could calm me down».
As if he were going to ever tell her. His friend was already too busy with the restaurant, the new crew, the plotting of her revenge... She didn't have time for her first mate.
«Her secret».
The poor pirate closed his eyes. The memory of kisses that sent him to heaven and touches that felt holy made him think of her captain as an ethereal fairytale he had gotten the luck to live. Dreams seem to come true, after all. For that—she longing for him as much as he longed for her—could only be seen as a blessing to his eyes.
A blessing he really needed by that time. Loneliness was not a good friend. But he couldn't call for her, tell her what had happened to him. What if she used it against him? He didn't think it could happen, but weakness is weakness...
No, he wouldn't tell her.
He'd just sit there and wait for the pain to stop.
Of course, not imagining that this time it would be her that would find him.
'Harry!' she came running, her boots making the wood moan under her feet. 'Look what I found!'
Harry quickly pushed away the bottle and wiped off the blood left on his bottom lip. Uma appeared, beautiful as always, and sat down next to him. She brought what seemed to be a treasure map; it was barely readable.
'The witches were talking about it this morning,' she explained. 'Remember that trident we were looking for?'
«Ah, yes. That bloody trident».
'Well, I found that they dropped another thing that could set us free. They're so stupid, but I guess it's better for us,' she added with a chuckle.
«Someone's in a good mood today», Harry thought.
Uma rarely was in a good mood. Usually it was Harry who had to cheer her up, gain a chuckle. But at least she was happy—well, maybe not happy. That word ceased to exist on the Isle of the Lost—, and luckily Harry could just pretend, get her not to notice something was off.
Which she did. She always did.
'Are you ever listening to me?' She frowned, turning to look at him.
Harry turned the other way. He couldn't let her see the wounds. But she kept leaning in, and so he kept escaping her gaze.
'What is wrong with you today, huh? Come on, look at me'.
'No,' Harry mumbled under his breath.
'It is an order from your captain,' she said, with a sharp tone that almost made him flinch. But then she put her hand on his chin, gently forced him to look at her.
Until he finally gave in.
It felt like getting naked in front of her. Something he had already done multiple times, but never like this. Never letting her see through all of him.
Uma frowned even more.
'Did you get into a fight?' she sounded calm, although her lips trembled just a bit. It was nothing. Barely a movement. But just enough for Harry to know that Uma was already sensing something deeper than that.
'No...' he pretended to sound louder, but his voice barely came out as a broken mumble. Something halfway through. Not as vulnerable as a sob, not as strong as a sharp bark, that probably would've kept her from asking any more further questions.
Uma exhaled. A shadow of pity covered her beautiful, deep brown eyes.
'Do you wanna tell me what happened?'
She knew. She had to know. Or, at least, she had to have a bad feeling. Uma would've never spoken so softly to him otherwise. Not about something she didn't quite know. Something he was hiding from her. Harry knew she hated when he hid things from her. And yet, Uma gave him the chance to choose. She asked him if he wanted to.
And that might have been worse for Harry.
He finally looked up at her. Silence grew. Eye contact left him helpless. And then he brushed his hand aganist hers. Just a touch. A silent plea.
'Just stay,' he whispered, voice cracking. 'Please'.
Harry had never said please. Never put in words what his heart carried with itself. But he had also never done this before. Never got his feelings undressed, subtle or not. He couldn't fool Uma. That he knew. It didn't matter how hard he tried.
Uma nodded silently, leaning in, asking him with nothing more than a soft look.
'Is this what you want?'
And it was Harry the one to press his lips onto hers. A sweet taste that got him drunk with just a few more kisses. The pain fooled him into thinking it was gone, that Uma, this, was making it better. And partly it was. So the couple kept going further and further.
Uma laid down. Harry followed, under her spell. He drowned himself into her neck, pull the strings of her corset, let himself be driven by the almost sickening sound of hot blood running in his ears. The air was getting warmer and warmer. The moves, more desperate. Desperate to forget. Desperate to feel.
Harry felt Uma's fingers playing with his hair. Like a moth to a flame, that got him into start tracing a path of kisses down her throat. Her sking felt warm under his insatiable lips. A drug that seemed to be very effective.
Uma's soft gasps fueled him when he got to her chest. He could feel her heart beating impatiently. Feel his own heart racing as well. His hands grabbed the cloth of her underwear, almost instinctive.
But something was off.
His chest felt heavy, full of bruises and unshed tears that he could barely keep inside any longer. Something itched his eyes. Something wet and uncomfortable. His hands, still clenched at her underwear, shook.
«No», he thought. «She's waiting».
But Harry couldn't move. The tears covered his eyes, he barely could keep them from streaming down. And eventually, Uma noticed too.
'Harry?' she called.
A lump grew in Harry's throat.
'I'm sorry, I can't...' He looked away, his voice shattered mid-sentence as a lonely tear rolled down his wounded cheek.
Uma felt a tight grip at her heart. She got up as fast as she could, and inmediately hugged him, leading his head to her shoulder.
'It's okay, it doesn't matter. We don't have to do anything, honey'
He let out a broken sob. Gripping tighter, he couldn't help but finally let the pain win. Tears soaked Uma's shoulder, but she didn't seem to care, as she continued to caress Harry's back up and down, avoiding the bruised skin.
'I'm sorry,' he cried again. 'He was... And I didn't...'
Harry breathed heavily. Gods, couldn't he even use his words anymore?
'Shh, it's okay.' Uma kept repeating. And little by little, that words began to sound more like a mantra to Harry. 'He's not here, now, is he?' Harry felt a kiss to his hair. 'There's nothing to worry about. You're with me'.
You're with me.
He was, in fact.
And the world seemed a little less cruel then, being held between her arms.
Being told he was loved.