She'd fallen asleep at her desk, attempting to finish what was left of her French homework. Easier said than done. It was towards the end of senior year now, and she'd lost most of her motivation to finish out strong. And it didn't help that her room had a sweet ambiance to it at night: candle burning, her mellow indie playlist playing, and the soft glow of twinkling lights that hung around her window. It was so cozy in there sometimes…and this wasn't the first time she'd fallen asleep trying to get work done.

She was woken up by the sound of a knock on her window. There was only one person that could be. She groggily walked over and pulled back the curtain to see him there, on her roof, smiling that mischievous smile of his.

"Killian, what are you doing here? It's late," she whined as she opened the window.

"C'mon, it's been forever since we sat out here. And look at all those stars!"

He was giving her that damn puppy dog look, the one that she knew all too well.

"Fine," she sighed. "Just for a little bit…I think my dad will be home soon."

Killian and Emma had been best friends for as long as they'd known each other. He'd moved to Storybrooke from Ireland with his dad and older brother back when they were kids.

He was sort of a shy kid then. His thick European accent threw a lot of kids off, so he mostly stayed to himself. That was, until he met Emma. One day in the first grade, she offered him a crayon, and they'd been thick as thieves ever since.

Now here they were, both seniors in high school. His lankiness had given way to a tall sort of strength, and she'd grown up quite a bit, too. Puberty had been good to them both. Emma would never admit it, but she had always thought he was handsome.

They were almost always together, save for when they were in separate classes or Killian was working a shift down at the coffee shop. They walked to school together every morning, like they'd always done since they were kids. He would wait for her at the fence, with a cup of hot chocolate dusted with cinnamon (being a barista had its perks). He knew her well enough to know not to speak to her until she'd had some of it to drink.

They both knew each other so well. They'd grown up together, alongside each other. Being together was as effortless as breathing. It always had been.

Usually after school, Killian would come over to her parents' house, and they'd watch movies or do homework...or pretty much whatever they felt like. Emma's parents, The Nolans, were a sweet couple. Her mother, Mary Margaret, was a teacher at the local elementary school, and her father David was the Sheriff. They liked Killian. They knew that he and Emma were best friends, but they would never press the matter further with their daughter, because she was about as headstrong as they come. She wasn't one to talk about her emotions a lot, at least not to them. If she hadn't mentioned it, they wouldn't either.

One particular pastime that Emma and Killian liked, was to sit on her roof and stargaze. They would lay there next to each other and talk about anything and everything that would come to mind. Sometimes he would bring his guitar up there, sometimes just a cigarette.

This night on the roof was particularly lovely, because the weather had recently turned. The air was warm and sweet, and the cherry blossom tree outside her window had just bloomed, dusting the front yard with soft pink petals. He had to climb up the tree to reach her.

She reached over and brushed the petals out of his hair. She'd always loved his hair. It was soft and jet black and hung over his eyes a little. It was the complete opposite of her own: long, thick blonde waves. They were like two sides of the same coin. Light and dark.

He lit up his cigarette and laid down next to her. The sky was brilliantly speckled with stars. Living in a small town like Storybrooke had its perks, and this was definitely one of them. You could always see the stars.

"What were you working on when you fell asleep?" he asked.

Emma sighed. "Just some stupid French homework. I don't know, I just don't feel like doing any of it, you know?"

"I hear you. I failed my Chemistry test today," he said with a laugh.

"Killian!" she laughed. "You've got to get your shit together."

"Oh, and why's that?" he said, taking another puff.

"Because," Emma crooned. "You've got to keep up your GPA if you plan on going to college next semester."

"Actually," he started, "I was thinking about just working for a bit, maybe taking a few classes here, at Storybrooke College. I want to save up and finally buy a boat...like I've always wanted."

"Storybrooke College...the community college?"

"The very same. And what about you? Have you heard from any more schools yet?"

"Just the one in Boston so far. To be honest, I'm starting to feel afraid that I'm not going to."

"You'll be fine. I'm sure you'll hear from more soon…you're bloody brilliant. But Jesus," he sighed. "Boston is so far, Swan."

Swan. That was his nickname for her. When they were little, they used to play a make believe game called "Pirates and Princesses." Usually she was the princess in distress, and he'd be the pirate who would sail to save her in her hour of need, but sometimes they'd switch it up. Sometimes Emma wanted to be the pirate, and he'd pretend to be a prince. She had named her pirate ship "The Black Swan." Hence, her nickname.

"I know," she replied, knowing exactly what he meant. Boston is so far from me, Swan.

"I know."

They sat in silence for a while, and Killian puffed out the last of his cigarette, flicking it into the gutter. He sat his knees up, and loosely hung his arms over them, fingers lacing together.

Emma finally spoke up. "Hey, isn't senior prom soon?"

"Fuck if I know," he laughed. "It's not like I'm going, anyway."

"Yeah, I don't know if I want to yet," she admitted. "But then again, it's our last chance to go to something like that. Maybe it would be fun. There's gonna be a shit ton of food, and dancing-"

"I don't dance, Swan."

"Hah," she laughed. "No shit, Sherlock. I know you'd rather brood around with your guitar than dance any day."

"Right you are, love!" he said, cocking his eyebrows at her sarcastically.

"What if we both got dates and then all went together?" she asked.

"Emma, seriously. I really don't want to go."

What he had really wanted to say was: I don't want to go unless I can go with you.

But that was never going to happen. They were friends, best friends, and he knew that she liked it that way. At least, he was pretty sure. She'd never made him think otherwise.

"Well, your loss then buddy," she said as she sat up next to him. "I actually think I may have a date already. Well, I mean nothing is set in stone, but I think someone might ask me."

"Who the hell would wanna take you out?" he snarked.

"Shut up!" she laughed, punching him in the arm.

"Okay, okay," he said. "Who, then?"

"Neal Cassidy."

He scoffed. "The pothead? Jesus fuck, Emma. You can do better than that."

"He's not a pothead!" she shouted, and then realized that maybe she shouldn't say things like that so loud when her mother could possibly hear. She turned to him and spoke in a lower tone. "He's not a pothead. I mean he does get high sometimes but he's actually really nice. We have a few classes together. I think he may like me."

Just then, Killian started humming a little tune, a smug look creeping across his face.

"Emma and Neal, sitting in a tree-"

"Oh my god," she said. "How old are you?"

He continued anyway. "K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

"You are so fucking annoying," she laughed.

He laughed along with her. He had always made it one of his goals to make her laugh every day. Her smile was one of his favorite things in the entire world.

"Sorry, you're right," he confessed. "I'm being an ass. If you like him and he asks you, then why not."

She shot him a quizzical look. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, well. I trust your judgment."

She was pleasantly surprised by his acceptance of this whole thing. "Thanks, Killian."

He looked over at her. "Sure thing, love. If I'm not going to go, at least go with someone you'll have fun with."

As he looked at her, he saw a look of remembrance passing over Emma's face, and with it, a sly smile.

"Do you remember-"

"Oh god," he said. "I think I know where this is going."

That made her laugh, but she continued. "Do you remember that time you kissed me when we were kids?"

"Fuck," he said, lowering his face into his hands. "I knew you were gonna say that. You just really love bringing that up every few years, don't you?"

Seeing his reaction garnered a deep belly laugh from Emma.

"We were six years old, Swan!"

"I was the princess, and you had just 'saved me' from unspeakable peril in the high seas…and, and you just fucking kissed me!"

"This is my worst nightmare," he said, trying to hold back his embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said as she rested her head on his shoulder, holding back tears from laughing so hard.

Just then, a bright blue Camaro pulled up in front of the house. Killian's older brother Liam stepped out and waved at them.

"Well, looks like my ride is here, Swan. I'll see you in the morning."

Emma smiled up at him. "Bye."

She watched him as he scaled down the tree and hopped to the ground with a thud.

When he was partly down the sidewalk, she shouted, "The usual? 7:45, hot chocolate?"

He turned around and walked backwards, smiling that gorgeous smile of his. "Always!"

She waited until the car had turned the corner before she went inside.

On the ride home, Killian thought of that kiss that Emma was so fond of remembering at the worst times. Smiling to himself, he remembered the way she looked right before he'd done it. Beautiful, sparkling green eyes, waves of yellow cradling her face. He just couldn't help himself. She had been the princess and he'd saved her, it had only felt right in his six year old mind.

But he had known, even then, that he was completely done for. He had loved her then, when he gave her that little peck on the lips.

And though he didn't want to admit it to himself, he still did.