#There was nothing responsible about the way Liam was dealing with his anxiety and distress while in 1D

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

Actually, one of the first things I thought of when learning that Liam had passed away was that he was Nora’s favorite. Liam to me was never the most interesting member of all the 1D lads but the way Nora talked about him on every single album had me appreciating him way more. I do think some of his qualities, both musically and personally, were a bit overlooked during the band.

This makes me want to relisten to the 1D related Every Single Album episodes anon.

I've just finished listening to the latest Every Single Album, and I enjoyed hearing more of Nora's perspective. I liked how expansive they were with what they talked about, the way that they emphasised the importance of 1D culturally and musically, and that they started by putting it in the context of fame.

As always it gives a sense of how differently people understand celebrities. I really want to interrogate Nathan about the idea that it's Taylor Swift's work ethic saved her. I think there might actually be an argument there (which is bascially - the fact that she always needed to work meant she always had people with her, and the hardest part of fame is the isolation from others in time), but it reminded me how easy it is to draw obviously untrue causation lines from success to wellbeing. When they basically asked 'is Harry Styles too dumb to be fucked up by fame?' I thought 'here are people who are less obsessed with what Harry has said to and about his therapist than I am.

*********

I'm going to articulate something that has been rolling round my brain, and which I haven't said yet. She mentioned again the clip about being locked in their rooms. Each time I've heard it, I've thought how much I think fans missed the point when they use that as proof of the evil of management. And I do think it's important to talk about the way the music industry is profiting is suffering in that example.

But by focusing on (or pretending to focus on) and literalising the quote (I've never been in a hotel room that you can lock people into). Fans miss the point - what was it that 1D was being protected from? Why couldn't they just go outside? How could 1D have been kept both safe and free while touring?

There seems within fandom a real unwillingness to look at the fact that was our actions that did harm. I'm sure the decisions by people with power did harm. It may not fully be that Eric Andre meme, but there is an element of it. Fans damaged Liam. Fans trapped him in his room with just a minibar. The damage was a result of aspects that were central to what fans love - they weren't avoidable just if better people were in charge.

I sometimes think that fandom's rush to blame someone is a way of avoiding the role we played.

[swans-and-pirates]

The Art of Remembering (5/?)

Summary: Killian hasn’t seen Emma in months, not since she ran off in the middle of the night. But when he receives a call from the hospital informing him that she’s been in an accident he rushes to be by her side. Nervous and anxious to see her again he’s not sure what to expect—but he definitely doesn’t anticipate that upon waking she would have no idea who he is. Modern au

Word Count: ~4,000

Rating: T

Also on: ff.net, ao3

Catch up: one, two, three, four

a/n: Thank you so much for all the love I’ve gotten for this fic. I really love this chapter and I’m really excited to share it, so I hope you all enjoy it too! 

It’s been over an hour since their disaster of a morning and Killian left Emma alone. He’s strategically been keeping himself as busy and as far away from the living room as possible. Taking turns wandering between his room and his office, and resisting every desperate urge inside him to check on her.

She’d said she’d needed space and he’s respecting that—no matter how hard that may be, and no matter how badly he aches to be there beside her to comfort her. Because he knows she’s hurting in ways that go beyond just the physical, and it’s like a sharp knife in his heart knowing that she’s suffering just a few rooms away from him.

Especially since he’s sitting in front of his computer and doing absolutely nothing to alleviate that pain.

With a long sigh he pushes himself away from his desk and stands. Reaching up, he runs his fingers through his already disheveled hair for what probably makes the thousandth time that day, and contemplates what to do.

He’s given her over an hour—that’s enough time to breathe and collect oneself isn’t it? And all he wants to do is check on her. Make sure everything’s alright, even if it’s just for a moment. He’ll go under the guise of needing a glass of water from the kitchen or something, just enough of a reason to go in and see what she’s doing and see if she needs anything.

Slipping out of his office, he begins to make his way through the hallway. There are no windows to shine light into the hall, and the slight darkness only adds to the unnerving stillness that greets him. He’s a little put off by it. He’d half expected to hear the T.V. running or some other noise, but instead he’s greeted with absolute silence.  

“Swan?” he calls softly as he gets closer to the front of the apartment, keeping his voice down in case she’s sleeping.

He receives no response, and as he takes the last few steps out of the hallway and looks toward the front room he doesn’t see her either

Smiling to himself, Killian inches a little closer to the couch.  She must have fallen asleep and he’s happy she’s finally getting the rest she needs.

Leaning forward just a tad, Killian peers over the edge of the couch only to stop short. His stomach clenches, and he feels his mouth fall open as he blinks at the empty cushions.

She’s not there.

Panic immediately claws up his throat, and he swallows as he tries to push it back down. He’s probably jumping to conclusions, but he can’t help the way his eyes dart around the room as though she’ll magically appear if he looks for her hard enough. But all that remains is her empty water glass and the blanket he’d given her earlier, which still sits folded and unused where she left it.  

Trying not to run, Killian hurries to her bedroom door and raps a few quick knocks on the closed door. Once again, silence greets him and he knocks once more just to be sure before pushing the door open.

Much like the living room, her room is empty.  

“Bloody hell,” he whispers to himself as he drags both hands down his face.

He’s experienced this all one too many times, and devastating memories of the first time this happened suddenly flood through him, threatening to overtake him.

Flashes of his house, quiet and empty, of Emma gone. The loss, the confusion, all surge through him again.

This can’t be happening again.

He searches the rest of his apartment like a madman. The storm he feels inside him coming out in how rapidly he rushes from room to room, making sure he hasn’t missed her by accident.

But even after checking each room twice, she still isn’t there.

Killian closes his eyes and swallows thickly. Breathing deeply he finds control of himself and finds reason somewhere in the depths of his torrential thoughts. This isn’t like last time. This time he knows why she left, and this time he’s going to find her.

Because what overpowers the feelings of his own distress, is his concern for Emma—she is in no shape to be running off on her own. She’s injured, and hurting, and without memories.

And he needs a way to find her.

Shoving his hand in his pocket, he pulls out his phone and scrolls through his messages until he finds Liam’s name.

Killian: I need you to come to my apartment. Right now.

Not even ten seconds later his brother is replying.

Liam: I’m on my way. What’s going on?

With a breath of relief Killian closes his eyes. He can always count on his brother to come when he needs him to. It helps that he’s no more than a five minute drive away, but he knows that even if there were hours that separated them, Liam would drop everything to be there for him.

Killian: I’ll explain when you get here.

Not looking for another response, Killian thrusts the phone back inside his pocket and jogs to his room. He’s quick to locate his shoes and jacket, hurriedly pulling them on before rushing back to the living room.  And with nothing better to do but wait for his brother to arrive, he takes to pacing in front of the window and keeping a lookout for Liam’s black sedan.

Five minutes, it seems, can last an eternity when you’re counting each second.

Eventually, when he realizes the pacing may only be making the tension and anxiety inside him worse, Killian slumps down onto the couch and sighs as he drops his head into his hands. He should’ve seen this coming; he knew how overwhelmed she was. He should’ve offered her an alternative—he has no bloody clue what that alternative would have been, but he should have found something.

Because this is what Emma does, and he knows her, he knows her tendency to run, and he did nothing to help her deal with what she was feeling. Maybe if he had she wouldn’t be off on her own and more than likely risking herself further injury.

The sound of his front door opening without so much as a knock pulls him from his thoughts, and he immediately snaps his head up to look towards the door where Liam is stepping into his apartment.

“I need to borrow your car,” Killian says without ceremony, already standing and working his way around the couch.

Liam holds up his hands and furrows his brow as he looks his brother up and down. And Killian’s sure that if he looks anywhere near as frenzied as he feels, then he must look like quite the sight.

“Whoa, slow down there, Killian. Mind explaining what this is all about? I get nothing but a single text from you saying that you need me to come over right now, as you so promptly put it, and now you don’t even give me a chance to walk through the door before you’re asking for my keys? What is going on? What happened to your car?”

“Emma has it.”

“Emma—”

“Has it. Yes.” Killian tries not to show just how desperate he’s really feeling as he holds out his hand and waits for Liam to hand him is keys.

His brother cocks an eyebrow at him but doesn’t move and Killian groans in absolute frustration.

“Listen, I really don’t have time to explain everything. Emma could be anywhere and she doesn’t have her memories, and she’s still hurt, and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t have a jacket and it’s starting to get cold at night. So please, Liam, just give me your keys.”

Liam frowns as he shoves his hand into his jean pocket, and though Killian can hear the keys clinking against each other, he doesn’t quite pull them out yet.

Killian clenches his jaw. He does not have time to for this. Emma could be anywhere and she can’t even bloody walk without so much as wincing, and the longer he waits the harder it’s going to be to find her.

Liam must see his agitation because he sighs before pulling his hand out of his pocket, his fingers wrapped securely around Killian’s only hope of finding Emma.

“I’ll give them to you, I promise. Just tell me what’s going on first.”

Groaning, Killian drags a hand down his face and sits back slightly against the edge of the couch. His brother is stubborn, and if the only way he’s going to give up his car keys is if he gets some answers, then it’s better for Killian to just give him some quick information.

“It’s my fault. I should’ve told everyone to give her space, give her time to readjust. I didn’t think anyone was going to come over before she’d even been home a full twenty-four hours. But Mary Margaret and David came, and it was just too much too soon. I could see her panicking and so when she asked to be alone I went in my room, didn’t come out for over an hour, but when I did she was gone.”

“Killian—”

Liam sighs and puts his hand on Killian’s shoulder and there’s just a little too much empathy in his eyes, as if he knows that this whole thing is like some horrible déjà vu of the last time she left. But Killian is trying his best to not let those memories tear through and devour him at the moment so he shrugs his brother off and lifts his hand, silently asking for the keys again.

Because unlike last time, Emma’s not exactly in the best shape to be running off and trying to manage on her own. And the thought of her suffering even just a moment is killing him.

“Alright,” Liam nods before placing his keys in Killian’s palm.

Clenching his fist around them, Killian exhales as a tiny bit of the tension in his chest eases. He can find her, it hasn’t been too long. He just can’t waste any more time.

“Thank you, Liam,” he says before stepping around his brother and pulling open the front door. He’s just stepping into the hallway when Liam speaks again.

“Of course, little brother, it’s what I’m here for. Just drop the car off at my place after you find her. I can walk home from here.”

Turning toward him, Killian nods again. “Younger brother,” he corrects out of habit, smiling slightly. “And I will. Wish me luck.”

~

As he’s driving through Boston, Killian does his best to not let panic overtake him. It’s a large city, which can make looking for one singular individual about as difficult as trying to find one piece of grain in a pile of rice—impossible, daunting, and time consuming.

           But time is something he feels like he doesn’t have a lot of, so he decides to go on instinct instead. And instinct, it seems, has him driving the familiar route to the pier.

The sea has always called to him, the rhythm of the ocean pulses inside him even when he’s not near it. And he never thought he’d meet anything that pulled at the very depths of him the way the waves did.

That is, until he met Emma.

After he met her it was the sound of her voice, her name, the way she sighed sleepily in the early mornings or laughed on warm afternoons that became the new cadence of his heart. The new rhythm to which is life ebbed and flowed to.

She anchors him. Steadies the raging sea inside him.  And he’ll be the first to admit that he’s been lost these past few months without her.

But it had been at this pier that he’d first met her, and it was here that she went when she was feeling troubled. It was one of the things they had in common, and he was hoping that even without memories of this place, some part of her would seek its familiar comfort.

With the car parked Killian steps out into the salty air, the steady chorus of the beating wings and cries of countless seagulls welcoming him back to his second home. He knows this place better than anywhere else in Boston, knows that if you walk a little ways along the dock there’s a quieter section of the pier. He knows that it’s a place Emma loved to frequent, and he’s hoping that subconsciously she’d wandered there again today.

With a somewhat quickened pace, he begins to make his way down the docks and it doesn’t take long for him to spot her. The relief he feels is immediate, it washes through him and carries away the heavy panic that had been weighing him down since he first discovered she’d ran off.  

She’s sitting on the dock, her feet dangling towards the water as her hair lifts and blows with the soft wind. It would be a peaceful sight—she looks breathtaking as she watches the horizon, with only the sounds of boats creaking on the waves accompanying her—if only he didn’t know of the trouble that fills her heart.

Shoving his hands deep in his pockets, he walks towards her, careful to keep his pace slow enough so that she’ll have plenty of time to hear him approaching.

He watches her spine straighten slightly once she notices him, and when she turns to look at him he offers a small smile.

“May I join you, love?” he asks her softly, waiting for her response before moving any closer.

She offers him a tiny shrug before turning to look back out at the water. “I guess.”

He crouches down before letting his hands take his weight as he situates himself down on the dock beside her. He mirrors her, letting his feet hang towards the water while sitting back on his hands ever so slightly. He keeps a small space between them, because no matter how much he aches to hold her—how much she lets him in is completely up to her.

Looking out towards the water, Killian watches the small waves ripple in the slight breeze before saying anything.

“I’m sorry about this morning. I should have said something to them early, told them you weren’t ready for visitors. But, Mary Margaret…. she cares about you—there are a lot of people that care about you—and she’s been worried, and may have been a little too enthusiastic in her relief at seeing you alright. I can talk to her though. I know it’s all a little too much right now, with everything else you’re dealing with.”

Emma turns to look at him, and now that he’s closer he can see the redness in her eyes, and his heart constricts at the thought of the tears she’s obviously shed.  

“Thank you,” she says sincerely, reaching up to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear before casting her eyes down to look at her hands. “I know she means well. It’s just…”

She sighs and looks towards the water, as if searching for words among the gentle waves.

“It’s just all a little confusing, and lonely, and overwhelming. And I want to remember, I wish I did, but I don’t and it’s…it’s hard.” She looks at him again, a fresh tear trailing down her cheek. “I guess I just feel lost.”

Before he can stop himself, Killian reaches up and gently wipes the tear from her cheek.

As he draws his hand away he freezes, only just realizing what he’s done. His breath catches in his chest, and he doesn’t breathe again as he waits for her response. Because even though he’s trying his hardest to take everything at her pace, to not overwhelm her, being with her still feels as natural as it’s ever been and it’s hard to keep old habits from resurfacing.

But she doesn’t tense, or panic, or flinch away from his hand. She simply smiles gratefully before reaching up to brush away the rest of her tears as she takes a deep breath.

And his heart stutters a little because of it.

“How did you find me?” she asks, her tone shifting with an obvious desire to change the subject.

Killian hesitates, not sure if he should bring up a memory she clearly doesn’t have, but she’s looking at him with real curiosity and it’s so much better than the sadness, so he clears his throat as he reaches up to scratch behind his ear.

“This is sort of your spot. You used to come here all the time, especially when you were troubled.”

“Really?” she asks, her eyes lighting up for the first time since the accident.

“Aye, love. You did.”

And with a sudden burst of confidence brought on by her positive reaction, he continues. “This is where we first met, actually.”

She arches an eyebrow at that, and a real, genuine smile starts to lift her lips. “Will you tell me? How we met? I don’t know…maybe little things like this will help me remember.”

She looks up at him, and Killian loses his train of thought for a moment, because even with tear stained cheeks and puffy eyes, she’s beautiful. Everything about her captivates him. From the way her lashes brush her cheeks when she blinks, to the soft tendrils of hair that twist and turn with the wind. And sitting here with her on the docks, takes him back to so many similar moments, and he can’t help but return her smile when he thinks about the first time he saw her here.

“I work here, actually. I take care of the boats and run some of the historical tours, so I’m here a lot. And one day you sort of just showed up much like you are now—sitting by the water and watching the horizon.”

He pauses, remembering the way her golden hair had shined with the light of the sunset, and how, for the half hour she sat there, he hardly got any work done.

But of course, he doesn’t tell her this. He doesn’t tell her how mesmerized he’d been, how distracted her presence made him. How he could think of little else the rest of the night, or how Will had done nothing but tease him relentlessly for days afterwards.  

Returning to the present, Killian clears his throat and shakes his head as he clears the memory and continues. “I didn’t say anything to you that first time though. But you kept coming. At least twice a week you’d sit here and watch the water, sometimes you’d draw. It took me three weeks to pluck up the courage to speak with you.”

“And what took you so long?” she asks with a slight tilt of her head.

Killian can feel his ears go pink, and he reaches up to scratch at his head. “I…uh…don’t know.”

He does know though. She was beautiful and always seemed so enraptured in her own thoughts, and he’d claimed he didn’t want to disturb her. It wasn’t until Will accused him of cowardice that he all but marched up to her and made some excuse about needing to check the area to make sure there was enough room for a ship they needed to dock there later.

She’d seen right through it. And he remembers the way she’d rolled her eyes at his flirtations, and how he knew in that instant that he could fall for this girl. And that if he did, he would fall hard.

But in spite of her resistance to his charms, it opened the door, and soon her visits to the harbor grew more frequent.

“So we became friends after?”

Her eyes narrow slightly as she says it, and the emphasis she puts on the word ‘friends’ practically drips with skepticism.  

Killian opens and closes his mouth as he flounders for words. He can tell she suspects that there is something more to their relationship. And he shouldn’t be surprised because she has always had a knack for reading people, and it’s not like he’s been the best at hiding the longing he’s sure is in his eyes.

But it’s all too complicated right now and this is getting way too close to telling her what she really means to him, so he clears his throat and looks away.

“Aye, love, we did.”

And then became so much more.

He’ll tell her—he will. He just needs to figure out the best way to do so first. He needs to make sure she’s a little more on her feet, because what if she leaves the second she learns the truth?

“Hmm,��� she hums, pressing her lips into a thin line and turning her attention back to the sea.

He knows she’s aware he’s omitting things, but thankfully she doesn’t press.

Instead, they settle into an easy silence, both staring off into the horizon.

Killian takes a deep, cleansing breath of sea air, and feels a little more at peace than he has the last few days. There’s something about watching the light dance and glisten across the water’s surface. The way the ocean quietly drifts with the wind calms him almost as much as actually being out on his boat does.  

“I know I don’t have any memories of all those times I came to this spot,” Emma eventually says, her voice just above a whisper. “But I think a part of me knows this place. I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel connected to it somehow. Why else would I have come here of all places? It probably doesn’t even make sense but—”

“It makes sense,” Killian tells her. And when Emma looks at him, her green eyes wide with a vulnerability that leaves him breathless, he finds himself whispering in return. “I guess you could say your heart knows. Your soul remembers.”

Emma licks her lips as she quickly looks down, fiddling with her fingers for a moment before lifting her gaze to meet his again.  

“I think I’m starting to realize that there are other things I know, even if I don’t remember them.”

Her eyes flick back and forth between his, and he feels as though she’s searching the very depths of him. He can feel his heart start to race, it thunders in his ribcage and he swallows thickly before responding.

“Oh? What sort of things?”

“You,” she says simply.

And if Killian’s heart was racing before, it’s practically jumping from his chest now.

“I know I don’t remember you,” Emma continues, her forehead crinkling slightly as though she’s confused by all of this. “But I’ve started to realize that you are…familiar to me. Like my heart knows you, even if my brain doesn’t.”

Killian opens his mouth to respond, but finds he has no words to convey the warmth that is suddenly spreading inside him. He fears that if he says something now he’ll just end up declaring how in love with her he is.

So instead he reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear, cherishing the tentative smile she gives him.

“Is that crazy?” she asks with an unsure tilt of her head.  

“It’s not crazy.”

She smiles gently before inhaling a shuddering breath and blowing it out slowly. And Killian can practically see her mind trying to process all of this.  

“You must be exhausted, Swan. This little journey probably wasn’t the best for your recovery. We should get home.”

He scoots closer, closing the gap between them with the intention of helping her stand, but she puts her hand on his knee to keep him from rising.

“I am tired,” she admits as she unexpectedly leans against him. Killian stiffens as she tucks her head into the space beneath his.

“Can we stay here?” she sighs, her words so soft that Killian almost doesn’t hear them. “Just a little longer?”

He knows that this sudden openness is due to the vulnerability she must be feeling after what she just shared with him. But he also knows that there is still a lot of confusion and uneasiness inside her. There’s still so much healing she needs to go through, and who knows if she’ll be this open with him come tomorrow

But he’s missed her, and as the familiar scent of her hair envelops him, he relaxes and releases a tiny breath of air before closing his eyes.

He’s missed the feel of her pressed against him more than he could ever express. And the warmth he feels from where their bodies meet sends little fiery tendrils of healing heat up to stitch together a little of his aching heart.

“Aye, love, we can stay here as long as you wish.”