Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or Once Upon A Time - the trolls Edward Kitsis and Adam Horowitz do. If I did, I'd make them canon faster than lighting.

Warning: rated M for a reason. Also, pain.

"I told you that movie would be terrible."

"It wasn't that bad. And you laughed at a couple of scenes!"

He let out a humorless chuckle, looking at his girlfriend's amused face from the corner of his eye as they trudged along the street. "Yeah, I laughed because it was bloody ridiculous," he insisted stubbornly.

It had been that bad.

Milah giggled, lacing her fingers through his and pulling him closer to her. "Oh, shut it. Next time you'll pick the movie and then it'll be me whining about how bad it was, deal?"

That was the plan. They had this arrangement for whenever they went to the cinema - if he wanted to watch a 'typical male' movie, then the next one would be her choice. It quite worked for them. Always had. "Fine."

She huddled closer to him in an attempt to protect herself against the cold wind, and he tucked her head against his shoulder, leaving a kiss over her dark curls. They stopped when they reached a stop light, waiting for it to let them cross the street, approaching her apartment. She let go of him, bouncing lightly on her feet to try to stay warm, and a sudden glint appeared in her eyes. She clapped excitedly. "Oh, you're meeting Emma today!"

He cocked an eyebrow at her, smirking when she stuck her tongue back in his direction. He knew how she hated it when he did that - because she was unable to lift just one. "Your new roommate?"

"Yeah, she's all settled in the apartment now. Got her friend over the last couple of days helping moving her stuff and so on. We had fun," she declared with a smile, using the traffic light like a pole to swing herself under his amused stare. That was his girlfriend: she just couldn't stay put for a minute.

"How did you find this girl again?," he inquired curiously. He had been trying to help Milah find someone to share her apartment with since her last roommate Kathryn had left the city. They had been sad after she did, as they had become really good friends, but at least they had stricken up quite the close friendship and had promised to maintain contact.

Milah jumped to her feet from the traffic light and joined him just as it turned green, and she all but danced to the other sidewalk. "Apparently a colleague of hers from work saw my event on Facebook looking for a roommate and told her about it when she mentioned she needed a new place."

"That was convenient," he commented idly. He frowned when an afterthought came to mind the closer they got to her place. "Is she okay with me coming and going? There are these girls who will feel weirded out by roommate's boyfriends staying at their places like they owned it or something."

Kathryn hadn't been bothered at all by his presence; in fact she adored having him there. He loved staying at Milah's place - and it didn't have to do with just the possibility of having sex whenever he did. Even though it did matter too. But it was such a nice apartment, who knew if it was just because it was owned by girls, or how well it smelled or how clean it was, or how homey it felt to just lay on her couch and watch TV in there, or even get some work done when things at his place got a little crazy with his own friends. He was just really, really fond of it. He wasn't looking forward to feeling awkward if this new girl wasn't all too pleased by his presence.

Milah took his hand back in hers, smiling reassuringly at him and waving her other hand in the air. "Nah, I told her and she said it was fine."

Not so convinced, though - who would blame the poor girl if she of course agreed to whatever her new roommate told her, right? - he followed her up the steps to her building, joining her inside the elevator and finally into the apartment.

His girlfriend ran to check the messages on the phone, and he took the opportunity to tiptoe to the kitchen and open the fridge, checking what he could haul from it. Before he could settle on anything, though, Milah's voice halted his wandering hands, already going to open the drawers. "Can you please stop stealing my food?"

He threw a naughty smile over his shoulder, shrugging lightly and going back to his search. "You know you love feeding me." His eyes caught a glimpse of bright red in one of the corners of the drawer, and he curiously picked up the little shiny package, turning on his feet to stare at her with an awed expression. "Wow, you bought these? You never buy them!" Closing the fridge's door behind him with his foot and already opening the candy, he declared, "I'm taking them, that's it..."

"Milah? I need your help, the landlord - Leroy, I think? - came up earlier saying something about the wifi problem but I wasn't sure what to tell him, so..," an unknown voice startled him, making him nearly spit the sweet he had just popped into his mouth.

Smooth, Killian. Really smooth.

The first time he saw Emma Swan, she was in her pajamas, her hair in a disheveled ponytail and her glasses propped at the top of her hair. Her eyes went from Milah to him, a curious look in them as she waited for her to answer her question, her phone tightly gripped in her hand, waiting for instructions as to what to do.

Milah interrupted the awkward scene, approaching her new roommate to stand beside her, smiling warmly at the indecision the poor girl was showing just then. "Hey Emma! Don't worry, I'll call Leroy later. And hey, remember I told you about my boyfriend?" She pointed at him with her thumb, laughing at his still perplexed expression at the sudden intrusion of the blonde girl. "Just to prove I didn't make him up! Killian, this is Emma Swan."

Swallowing - fucking finally - the sweet, he cleared his throat and waved lamely at her, his lips curling into an embarrassed smile. "Um, hi."

She stared at him with an unimpressed look, yet he could see something... curious, something flashing in her eyes when she stared at him. Something that made him want to cover himself, like she could see what was going on inside of him just by staring straight into his eyes. "Hi. You can keep those, if you want to," she told him, jerking her chin in his direction.

He frowned, confused, until he realized she was talking about the candy. He held it up in his hand. "Are they yours?"

"Yeah."

Oh, crap. Closing the package with a crunch and going over to the fridge to put it away, he tried not to sound like a mumbling idiot as he spouted apologies. "I'm sorry, I should have asked, I just assumed..."

"It's nothing, don't worry, take them if you want. I've got more," she tried to reassure him with a a wave of her hand, despite the tiny smile that looked like it wanted to break free on her lips.

Milah laughed at the whole situation, as she always did, to try to ease the tension. She patted Emma's arm, shaking her head in his direction in a 'men - what can we do with them?' manner. "Forgive him, he thinks with his stomach instead of his brain."

"Well, that's an improvement from thinking with his dick like any other XY specimen," the girl commented, and he couldn't help but notice the resentment in her voice. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Was it directed at him? She didn't even know him!

"Excuse me?," he sputtered, positively caught off-guard.

She didn't even bother to explain herself, her face completely closed-off. "Nevermind."

Milah, on the other hand, threw her arm around the blonde's shoulders, and he was struck with how different both of them were: sharp lines, dark curls, bright blue against soft features, gold locks and green sparkly eyes.

Different... and beautiful.

"Yeah, she doesn't sound bitter or anything, huh?" Milah tried to play off her new roommate's earlier words, shaking her playfully. It always amazed Killian how friendly she was towards people, even when they hadn't known each other for a long time. He could feel the uncertainty in Emma's tense posture, as if she wasn't so used to such intimate gestures from people around her. "Your ass of an ex will burn in hell while you run down a catwalk with men fawning over you, my friend. I mean, have you seen this face?," she pondered aloud, waving a hand over her face like she were showing off a pretty item to sell to an audience.

Emma let out a soft snort, rolling her eyes at her. "Yeah, right." Shrugging off Milah's arm from her form, she took a couple of steps back, towards her bedroom. "Anyway, I gotta polish some final details of my presentation, so I'll take my leave. See you tomorrow." Before she disappeared behind the hall's door, she turned and looked directly at Killian, an eyebrow rising in question. Hey, this girl could pull it off!

"I guess... I'll see you around?"

Killian nodded, a smile curling at his lips as he inspected this strange girl with a curious glint in his eye. "Yeah, sure."

With a final wave, Emma left, the echo of her soft footsteps behind her and the door closing in her wake. Milah turned around excitedly, plopping herself on the counter in front of him and asked, "So? What did you think?"

Such sad eyes, he wanted to say, when instead all he did was shrug and comment offhandedly, "I think she has great taste when it comes to candy."

"Hot Chocolate, for Golden Curls?" Killian nearly groaned out loud at the obvious attempts of the bartender to try to get laid - or just find a fucking date - while he gave away girls' orders in the café. This was the fourth time he had approached the nickname thing to try the charming, funny approach - earning him snarls and eye-rolls in response, to his neverending amusement. Killian leaned to the side of his booth to witness the outcome of this one. "I'm kidding. Emma?"

He spied golden curls spilling over a red leather jacket, and before he could even laugh at the glare she was giving the poor barista, he was calling out, surprised, "Emma?"

Gripping her drink firmly in her hand, she spun around on her feet and scanned briefly the crowd until she spotted him. Eyebrows lifting in surprise, she made her way over to his seat. "Oh. Hi."

"Hey. What are you doing here?" Apart from her cup, she had a messenger bag slung over her shoulder, where she usually carried her laptop and her notes, as he had discovered when she went to work on the living room's table and they had run into each other the last couple of weeks after they had first met.

She scratched her neck, standing awkwardly, until he jerked his chin towards the seat across from him, inviting her to join him. After throwing him a dubious look, she relented and sat, crossing her legs and leaving the drink before her. "I have an hour break from my assignment - came for my fix of... cocoa," she admitted, smiling warmly before she took a sip from the Styrofoam cup. "What about you?"

"My roommates can be a tad louder than one would wish and I really need to finish this project, so..."

She frowned at first, confused, until a smirk made its way to her face. "Louder as in...?"

He feigned indignation - despite he had been expecting a remark like this. He would have, at least. Dirty minds thought alike and all that, right? "Get your mind out of the gutter!" He laughed, shaking his head thinking about his mates at home. "They have a 'band', and today they're rehearsing there."

She seemed surprised at that piece of information, but didn't press further. "Oh. That's cool. Why didn't you ask Milah for her keys to go home then?"

"I didn't want to bother you," he admitted, shrugging. He didn't want to be a nuisance - as much as he liked staying at Milah's, it was not his apartment. He didn't want to become the leech boyfriend who could not stay away from his girl more than a day.

"I wasn't even there."

"And how was I supposed to know?"

"You could always ask."

"I don't have your number."

The words escaped his lips before he could do anything to stop them, and he had this childish urge to clap his hands over his mouth. That had sounded so flirty, such a cliché move to get a girl's number, he couldn't believe he had said it. Because he was not trying to flirt with Emma Swan - he barely knew her, for fuck's sake!

Emma, for her part, froze for a second before rolling her eyes at him and rummaging inside her bag until she ripped a piece of paper from her notes and fished a pen from her pocket, hurriedly scribbling a number on it. "Here," she said, sliding it over the surface of the table separating them. He took it, - not before his fingers touched hers, and retreating them in shock at the feel of her skin on his, - and carefully folded it, putting it inside his own pocket. He inclined his head in gratitude and raked his brain for something to say just to change topics, seeing as she had just fucking given him her number. Killian, stop it. It's just for living arrangements purposes. Friendship purposes. Let it go.

"So. How are you liking living with my woman?," he finally managed to say, internally wincing at his lame idea of ways to start a conversation. He should probably write a book. How to bore a woman to tears 101.

Emma just tapped her nails against her cup, cocking her head to the side as she thought of an answer. "It's cool. She's really nice. And neat. And surprisingly passionate about TV shows, which has proved to be quite entertaining."

He couldn't help but smile at that. Milah's relationship with her TV shows was quite the drill. "Ah, that she is. Sounds like your last roommate wasn't so fun compared to her, huh?"

"Well, let me see: beautiful, funny and smart girl my age; cheating boyfriend. Not sure what to choose, dude." He froze, shooting a worried glance at her over his cup. Fuck, he had really hit a mark with that one, huh? He studied her curling her hand into a fist over the table, and she shuddered. He felt like a complete asshole - and irrationally angry at that other asshole for doing that to her. "I'm sorry. Shouldn't have said that," she whispered at last, going to take another sip of her drink.

He shook his head at her, already trying to assure her that it was by no means her fault if she decided to rant in his presence. "No need to apologize." Carefully peeking at her under his lashes, he chanced to ask what was burning him to know after she had confessed about her past lover. "You lived together?"

She pinched the bridge of her nose tiredly, letting out a shuddering breath. "Yeah. Didn't work out, though."

"That's an understatement. Why didn't you go back to your parents or to a friend's?"

"No parents to go back to." He flinched. She was an orphan? Or her parents had died? Great, Killian: you're making her talk about every fucking thing that apparently has made her so wary and broken. Kudos, man. "I stayed with my friend Ruby for a couple of weeks, but I've heard more than once how living with friends can somehow ruin your relationship with them."

He chuckled, thinking of how true her words were. TMI was something he was too used to say at home whenever his mates would share stories of their sexcapades, - or he'd learn things about them he really didn't want to know. "Trust me, sometimes it's horrifying when you notice stuff about them you would never have unless you shared a place with them."

Emma looked up then, studying him intently. "Why don't you live with Milah then? You two have been together forever, right?"

Ah, so Milah and she had probably discussed their relationship. It was no wonder, to be honest - the customary "how long have you been together" whenever you heard about someone being in a relationship. He could only guess what Emma had thought or said when she learned Milah and he went way back. As in, 10-years-back.

"Since we were 16," he told her, sighing defeatedly and letting his back plop tiredly against the leather booth behind him. "Yeah, you can start with the whole when-is-the-wedding jokes now."

It was the same thing every fucking time he explained he had been with the same girl for so long. He was just used to it by now.

She looked offended by the implication, frowning at him exasperatedly. "I was not. As long as you guys invite me - I just want to go to the bachelorette party..."

"Not cliché at all," he chuckled. If all of his mates made him promise a The Hangover trip, of course the girls would all wet themselves with the idea of sweaty, naked men dancing for them in a liquor haze. She smirked at him, bringing the cup to her lips trying to hide it - to no avail, of course, - as she wiggled her eyebrows.

"What can I say, Hollywood gives all these kind of ideas. But married or not, why don't you live together? It could be a reasonable first step before the impending wedding, you know."

"And kick your ass out of the apartment? Not bloody likely, Swan." It would be very bad form to kick her out just as she had moved in, wasn't it? It'd be a sad day when she decided to leave.

...why the hell was he thinking about her leaving his girlfriend's apartment either way?

She cocked an eyebrow at him, and he made a note to himself to mention soon how impressive it was for him that she was able to do that. "Ah, so it is about me instead of your fear of moving on with your relationship?"

Crossing his arms over the table, he leaned further in her direction, trying not to laugh at her expression as he inched closer, dropping his voice like he wanted to share a secret with her. "Who knows? Maybe I'd miss you around."

Was it him or had her breath hitched after he spoke?

She pulled back so that her back was straight against the cushion, and she made a fuss of rearranging her things. Suddenly, she checked her watch and frowned. "I have to go now or I'll be late. Regina will have my ass if I'm not there by 4."

"She'll have your ass?" Oh, this girl and her expressions. She was too much.

"Shut up," she said, slapping his arm while he laughed at her suddenly flushed face. Picking up her bag and now empty drink, she stood up, all ready to go. "See you later? Or you're going back to your place?"

He pursed his lips, contemplating his options. "You got more of that candy up there?"

"Yeah."

"Then see you later, Swan."

Killian couldn't sleep.

He wanted to tell himself it was because of his presentation for the next day. It was a big deal. He had worked hard for it. It could mean something really big for him in his company.

Of course it didn't have anything to do with the fact that Emma hadn't come back home until 3AM.

Or the fact that she had been completely drunk off her ass.

Or the fact that she hadn't been alone.

He had been awake when he had heard the front door closing with a bang, as he was rereading some of the late details for the next day, earphones over his head and lights of his laptop dimmed as to not bother Milah while she slept by his side on the bed. He had been about to walk out to mock-tell her off for being late or something when hushed giggling and the unmistakable sound of clothes being thrown to the floor coming from outside his door filled his ears. Something ugly and cold had spread across him, and he fought the sudden desire of going over to her room and kick whoever it was that was taking advantage of her, a broken girl who had probably ended up in a bar to drink herself into oblivion.

But when only passionate gasps and moans travelled through the wall dividing both of their rooms, he had to admit the reality that, as much as he wanted to blame this faceless guy, it wasn't his place to judge or do anything, really. It was more than clear that Emma wanted this, wanted this whoever it was to please her, and if that was what she wanted, what she sought as any way to find solace or release or whatever it was she needed, then by all means, she'd get it. And she, of course, didn't need Killian looming over her like a guardian angel or something.

Why would he feel the need to protect her at all, he would never know.

He decided to go to the kitchen to fix himself something to calm his nerves and clear his head - and maybe to try to avoid the increasingly louder banging and moaning from Emma's room. He stayed there for a while, unable to stop himself from smiling as he drank a cup of cocoa and took a couple of Emma's candy as an afterthought, until a closing door and hurried steps along the hall made him stare curiously at the doorway, where Emma's companion was obviously fleeing the scene. He didn't even acknowledge Killian - he probably didn't notice him, to be completely honest, and as soon as he had showed up, he left, the closing front door nearly silent behind him.

Not long later, a simple oversize t-shirt covering her, Emma stumbled loudly into the kitchen, - even though he suspected she thought she was being stealthy about it.

She really wasn't.

When she reached the doorway, she lifted her gaze towards him and jumped back, a hand clutching her chest in alarm. "Oh, fuck. Jesus. You scared the crap out of me."

He let out a chuckle at her obvious distress. "Sorry. It wasn't my intention."

Ignoring her more than revealing state of dress - in fact, he had to avert his eyes to try not to look like a creep, - she rounded the counter to go to the sink and fill a glass of water for herself. "What are you doing up?"

To tell her or not to tell her. Huh. He could always be vague about it. "Couldn't sleep."

"Why?" Her hand froze in her way to her lips when she realized what the implications behind his words could mean. She groaned, clenching her eyes shut and blushing profusely. "Oh, wait. Please tell me it wasn't..."

Half amused and half apologetic, he tried to reassure her. "No, no, I was already awake. Though it proved to be even more difficult after that."

"Welcome to my world, buddy," he thought he heard her murmuring against the glass she was drinking from. Wait, what did she mean? For all he knew, Milah and him weren't that loud. At least, he liked to think they weren't. Kathryn had never complained.

Well, Kathryn had always liked to sleep with earplugs because every tiny sound made her restless or some crap like that he liked to tease her about, so maybe...

"What was that?"

"Nothing," she was more than quick to answer, letting out a loud breath after she drank. They both stayed quiet for a couple of minutes, each one of them lost in thought, and Killian took the chance to inspect her closely. Her hair was a mess - what his friends would call 'sex hair', and hell, was it appropriate for this situation, - her lips pink and swollen. He had to shake his head to stop the unwelcome - or, what was worse, not so unwelcome - images of Emma getting into such a state, maybe not by that guy that had just left, but...

Clenching his fist on the counter, he went for the kill, just to stop his treacherous mind from fucking him over. More than he wanted. "So - how was it?"

Lifting her head and staring at him like he was being completely out of line - which he might be - a loud snort escaped her lips. "We are not discussing my last one night stand."

"Was that what it was? Not even a proper fuck-buddy?" Even if he was wary to admit it, he hadn't discussed her love life as of now; she had just escaped from a broken relationship involving betrayal and heartbreak, and he was by no means sure what this girl would consider as a healthy or proper way to mend her heart.

Anyway, why was he so interested in finding out?

Fuck.

"Why are you so interested?" Was she reading his mind or what?

He smoothed his features to appear collected at this sudden back and forth between them. "What makes you think I am interested?"

"Why do you always answer with a question?," she inquired, frustrated.

"Because you don't answer me."

"Neither do you. Why do you care at all what I do?"

Yes, Killian - why do you care what she does? It wasn't like the girl couldn't do whatever the fuck she wanted. It wasn't like she didn't have anyone who cared for her - he had met her best friends not long ago when they had been together having dinner at the apartment and they had invited Milah and him to join them.

It wasn't like she was his.

Shrugging in an attempt to look indifferent, he replied, "I was just curious. And I care because I'm a friend, am I not?"

She studied him for a long moment, assessing his words, probably trying to figure out if he was being serious at all. He didn't know what she decided at last, because she just shut her eyes and leaned her head against the wall, looking completely defeated.

"You'd be the first," she uttered, and he was torn between asking what did she mean by that or just scooping her in his arms and holding her close to him. Before he could do any of them - wait a second, what do you mean any? You'd ask, you fucker, no snuggling, - she stood straight, walking out of the kitchen. "Anyway, I'm drunk and I want to go to bed, so good night Jones, enjoy my coconut. Cocoa. Candy. Whatever it is you're having."

Right as she was stepping out of the door, he called out for her, "Emma..."

"What?" she nearly whimpered, turning on her heel and sending him a pleading look. She surely wanted to leave to bed already, probably forgetting their conversation as she walked back to her room.

Taking her glass and refilling it, he picked the pill he had taken earlier from Milah's cabinet, turning off the light and joining her in the doorway. He gave her both items, and at her curious glance, he told her, "Here. So you're not hangover tomorrow."

And he walked back to Milah's room, not seeing her shocked expression or the small smile that replaced it seconds later.

"So. How was that for a night out, huh, Emma?" Milah couldn't fight the glee in her tone as they all sat at the counter having their usual hangover-breakfast, as they had dubbed them since they had started the tradition. Though they had had to change the coffee for cocoa for Emma, seeing as she was completely opposed to caffeine in any form.

"You don't need to look so smug about getting me to go out, you know," the blonde girl countered back, leaning her head against the counter while she waited for her toasts to get ready. There was still a bit of make up smudged around her eyes, yet Killian couldn't help the feeling that, even after a night out, his girls looked equally or even more beautiful after them.

Yeah. He had called them his girls.

He was so fucked.

Milah laughed, shaking her head at her roommate and threatening her playfully with her spoon. "Come on! I had to practically organize it all behind your back so you couldn't get away from it."

Emma winced in response. "You are starting to creep me out. You are far too invested in my 'free time' - it's like Ruby is slowly taking over you."

"Hush. Not true."

"Milah. You made me wear heels." Oh, that had been a sight to behold. Milah had nearly used her infamous fake tears to guilt poor Emma into wearing those 'fucking feet killer contraptions,' as she had called them, but she had caved in after a lot of whining from both girls' parts.

"But you looked awesome," Milah gushed, a dreamy look on her face. Killian had always been amused by her passion concerning her friends' fashion choices.

Emma apparently hadn't been too fond of her friend's insistence. "Leave me alone."

Milah looked outraged at her blasé comment about her aid in her choice of wardrobe. She turned to Killian, hands on hips and asking for reinforcement. "Backup! Didn't she, Killian?"

He shrugged, trying not to show how uneasy he felt at that moment. "Sure."

Both girls stared him down. Milah rolled her eyes at him while Emma just shrugged - even if he could make out a crestfallen look that crossed her expression for a second. "That's the enthusiasm I was talking about," Milah added sarcastically in response to his vague comment. Hell, what did they expect him to say? That his jaw had nearly hit the floor at the sight of Emma in that dress and heels, her hair flowing in curls to her back, her skin glowing under the club lights as she danced and laughed with her friends, completely enraptured by the music and the freedom they all felt?

Yeah, that'd go well.

Forgetting about his not-at-all-honest response, Milah went on with her analysis of the previous night. "And we have the proof that you did look absolutely amazing because Graham couldn't tear his eyes off you."

Killian's hands clenched at his sides, hiding them from both of the girls' line of sight just in case. He nearly missed Emma's scoffing. "Don't start."

"You two seemed pretty cozy."

"Milah...," she tried to stop her, a warning in her eyes as she stared at her across the counter. But his girlfriend didn't look about to budge, passionately clapping her hands before her and not tearing her eyes from her roommate. "But it's true! You talked for a long time, and you laughed around him! I'm not trying to be pushy or anything, just - isn't it time to move on from your asshole of an ex? And not just by one night stands? I'm sure the sex is great and it makes you feel independent and all but... maybe you should let someone in. That's all I'm saying."

Emma studied her, completely taken aback at Milah's outburst and sudden desire to make her look for her perfect love story or whatever. Killian guessed she wasn't completely used to people being concerned about her love life whatsoever - well, except Ruby, who seemed to be the most pushy one from her friends, - so he wasn't that surprised at her own bewilderment at the circumstances. "And you think Graham is the guy I should try all this walls-down thing, huh?" she finally acknowledged, an edge in her voice, and for a millisecond, he'd swear she had looked over at him.

What the fuck? Had she? What did that mean?

"Why not?" Milah asked innocently.

For the first time since they had started the whole conversation, Killian felt himself adding his own input. "Yeah, it isn't like you weren't all over him last night."

Silence fell over the table, but he couldn't take the words back. He had tried to be civil, he really had tried to be diplomatic since they had come back home last night, and he had tried to push back the images dancing behind his eyelids as he made Milah scream in pleasure as soon as they were alone in her room. He had tried to shove it back down, to forget it, to not let it affect him so much, but it looked like he had reached his boiling point with this.

He had been drinking at the bar with August and Jefferson, merrily minding his own business when Aurora and Milah had come to them, giggling and all but yelling in glee about the 'new developments'. When they had all asked them what they meant, they had pointed to the other side of the dance floor, and Killian had been witness of Emma and Graham talking, dancing, laughing with each other. All of his friends had been completely enamored with the idea, of course - and why wouldn't they? Graham was a nice guy, Killian admired him and enjoyed his company, and Emma...

Well, who wouldn't want to be with Emma?

He was brought back to the present when Emma's venomous voice filled his ears. "I was not all over him."

He felt the jerk inside of him wake up, cracking his knuckles and ready to lash out at her. He shrugged, like he didn't care much about whatever she did - or whoever she did - and commented lightly, "That was what it looked, and I was not the only one who said so."

"Oh, great, I made the gossip section of your club. I feel so honored now." She slammed her mug over the counter with a loud bang and, not even caring to eat her now ready toasts, turned to Milah, completely ignoring his presence. "I'm leaving. I'll get back your dress as soon as I wash it."

"Okay. See you." Milah looked at her concernedly as she left, blond tresses flying behind her as she all but ran from the kitchen. When she was out of earshot, she cocked her head to him, rising an eyebrow in question. He munched his cookie, trying to appear innocent. "What?"

"You could have been a little bit more sensitive, you know."

He shrugged, even if a pang of guilt was already stabbing inside of him like a knife. "Hey, they were all talking about it. I didn't say anything."

She shook her head then, letting her head fall into her hands and groaning. "Men. You don't understand anything."

He really needed to go to the bathroom.

Walking barefoot, not even caring what he ran into as he was paying no attention whatsoever where he was going, walking completely on autopilot, he was about to open the bathroom's door when he crushed into a small, warm body. His arms leapt out to steady her, and as soon as he checked she was alright, he let them fall to his sides, not sure how she'd react to him touching her.

Knowing she was still pissed at him, he wouldn't be surprised if she bit him or something like that.

"Oh - sorry," she said, stepping back from him awkwardly. He studied her for a moment, noticing the circles under her eyes and her tired face, and shook his head in annoyance at himself for being so concerned about this girl.

This girl who had changed everything.

"It's okay. You alright?"

"Yeah."

Silence engulfed them then, threatening to drown them in accusations and excuses after their last real conversation. Tired of the whole thing, Killian sighed heavily and started, advancing in her direction, "Look, I..."

"Save it, I'm not really in the mood," she snapped, eyes blazing even in the near pitch-black hallway.

They hadn't spoken since that morning following their night out. To be honest, they hadn't spent much quality time since then, if not because they were busy, it'd be clear that she was doing everything in her power to avoid him.

At first, he had found a sick pleasure in her sudden rage. He had enjoyed that she was mad, because that was how he had felt when he had seen her with Graham. And it was stupid and irrational and by no means right to feel this way, but the thing was that he did, and he was a selfish bastard and he had hated her at that moment. He had wanted her to hurt.

But, as time passed by and she deprived him of her presence, he realized that that tiny moment of sudden vengeance hadn't satisfied him at all, or brought him anything but her indifference and coldness. There were no more banter, movie nights, stories exchanged at night in the kitchen. No more smiles. No more eye rolls. Nothing.

And he hated the fact that he missed her.

"I just wanted to apologize. I shouldn't have been so crass about it, even if my mates were being rather crude about it," he explained, letting the least bit of begging lace his tone. She all but ignored him, though, a hand coming up to tug at her hair tiredly as she started for her bedroom.

"I really don't care, Jones."

"If you didn't you wouldn't be mad," he reflected, following her a couple of steps behind, not ready to let this conversation slide.

She turned around, nearly growling at him, "I said, I don't care what your friends said about me, okay? Let it go."

"But you care what I say?," he asked, frustrated, not knowing what else to think about this whole thing, or what he was supposed to say at this point so she'd just let go already and forgive him. To his surprise, she stiffened at his words, but before he could come up with something to say about her reaction, she snarled at him, "Whatever."

She started walking back to her room, ignoring him completely - as she had perfected since their row, - and he felt himself being drained of all energy, shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Can't you at least accept my apology? I don't like... this," he finished lamely, hanging his head in shame. There, he had said it. This was what this girl had reduced him to: begging, apologies, headaches.

She was his own personal nightmare.

Yet he still wanted to keep her around him. Now more than anything.

She stopped in her tracks, looking at him over her shoulder. "...this?"

He sent her a pleading look, a hand signaling between the two of them. "Not talking to you."

"Maybe you should have considered that before being a jerk to me just because I was talking to a friend of yours for a while in a club and act all macho over it with your gang of assholes."

The bite in her words was palpable, and he threw his arms into the air, barely letting out a scream in complete and utter despair at her impossible attitude. "You are so stubborn, for fuck's sake. I already said I'm sorry. What else do you want?" He took a couple of long strides until he was face to face with her, his own need for her to understand that he'd do anything so she'd stop this ridiculous fight barely suppressed. "Please, Emma."

She looked at him - really looked at him, like she hadn't done for weeks, before everything had gone awry between them, - and he found himself amazed at the fear in her face, like she couldn't admit what he wanted her to say. "I really don't know," she whispered lastly, but he didn't get any more than that, as she closed her eyes and stepped back into her room, lock clicking in place behind her.

"Open mine!," Ruby begged, clapping and bouncing on her seat and offering Emma a wrapped box, red bow included. Boy, did this girl think of details.

Emma winced at her loud friend's command, making a point of covering her ears as she glared at her. "Could you please stop yelling? I'm right here!"

Ruby ignored her, shoving her present towards her and letting it fall on her lap. "I'm just excited! You're going to love it, believe me!"

They were reunited in their living room, as it was Emma's birthday and Milah and Ruby had ignored her protests and invited their closest friends to have a light dinner and then go for a few drinks to a nearby bar they liked to frequent. Of course Emma had complained about the whole thing, assuring them that she didn't want nor need any kind of celebration, but her friends had pointedly decided to ignore her wishes, bringing along Mary Margaret and her boyfriend, Graham and his friends. They all had brought food and drink to share - along with the most dreaded thing for Emma, as he well knew because she had confessed it to him once long ago, before she had decided to give him the cold shoulder after their row.

Presents.

With a loud sigh, she picked up Ruby's gift, shaking it lightly in her hands but not able to discern what it could be by the sound. She started opening it with care, not tearing the paper in any way, until she found herself with a set of very suggestive lingerie in her hands.

"Holy shit," Victor said, earning him a slap on the arm from Aurora while the rest of them laughed it off - and others stared too much at the lacy material in Emma's hands, now being closely inspected by her new owner and her friends, who marveled at the softness and cut of the pieces. Emma, for her part, turned unamused eyes towards her best friend. "Did I really need to open this in public?"

Ruby waved her off, taking the bra in her hands and putting it over Emma's chest, doing nothing to calm Killian's overactive imagination. "I don't care - how hot will you look in these?" Emma slapped her hand away, taking the underwear and putting it away in its box. Finally.

To remember Victor's words: Holy shit.

Milah's voice brought him out of his musings, really intense musings, really bad, bad musings. He saw his girlfriend take a bag from behind their place in the couch they were settled in, offering it to Emma with a smile. "Now it's time for ours."

Emma took her sweet time to take it, though, until an embarrassed grin made its way over her face. "You didn't have to, you know."

"Stop being ridiculous for a night, will you?," Milah complained, completely exasperated. He knew how frustrating it could be to try to make Emma comfortable or accepting whenever somebody made anything remotely nice towards her, and it became tiring at times, though Killian had found that the more she fought him, the more he insisted.

What could he say, he was a masochist that way.

Emma opened their gift with the same care she had showed earlier until a beautiful pendant with a large greenish-blue stone glinted in the lit room. She carefully picked it up, inspecting it in awe along with Ruby, who leaned it to examine it with her. "Woah. Thank you, it's beautiful."

"It matches your eyes! Great taste, girl," Ruby exclaimed, sending a wink towards Milah.

Emma shook her head, amused, and turned to look at the brunette girl at her side. "So that means you're 'borrowing' it as soon as you can, right?"

"You know me so well..."

She ignored her, and looked again into the box where the pendant had been to take out an enormous bag filled with the candy he used to steal from her. Even though he hadn't dared to touch it since they had stopped talking. "...and this?," she asked, her eyes seeking his.

He gave her a noncommittal shrug, trying not to show how nervous he was at the moment. "Just so you have your own stash for whenever I go crazy in one of my late night cravings. Just trying to be polite."

"Of course," she accepted, nodding gravelly at him.

For everybody else, it was a nice, friendly exchange.

For them, it was a farce.

His friends laughed, picking up some of the candy for them, and while Emma put everything she had gotten away in a pile and used a bag for the discarded wrap paper, Aurora picked up a forgotten gift on the table. "Hey, Emma - you have one left."

She whirled around, a frown marring her forehead in confusion. "Who is it from?"

Aurora examined the box, turning it in her hands and shrugging. "It... doesn't say?"

"Huh. Maybe it is from my grandma who sent it along. Well, open it!," Ruby commented, confused as well, but urging her friend to show what was inside. Emma nearly whimpered, completely tired of being the center of attention he was sure, and finally got the lid open to examine what it was they had sent along.

"...oh."

"What is it?"

She gingerly took out the object in her hands so they could all take a peek of it. "A hat."

It was, in fact, a hat. A black, felt, hat. A simple hat, really. Yet she was clutching it like something would snatch it from her fingers if she wasn't careful enough. Like it was something precious to her.

Ruby jumped then, a loud gasp escaping her red lips. "Oh my God, it looks exactly like that one you lost, remember?"

They all exchanged confused glances between them, and Killian mimicked their expressions - even if he did know what the two girls were referring to. Emma didn't even look at her; she kept staring at the hat in her hands, a myriad of emotions playing over her face. "Yeah, it does. Crazy, right?"

She all but yelped in surprise when Graham took it in his hands and put it over her head, adjusting it playfully over her curls. "It looks good on you," he commented after inspecting her, stroking his chin and smiling fondly at her. Killian ignored the scene playing in front of him, opting to take a sip of his beer until August - always the voice of reason - called for attention. "We're going to be late - we should get going."

The whole group managed to clean off the table of the leftovers and dirty cutlery, and in a matter of minutes they were all putting on their jackets and slanging purses over shoulders, going out of the door. Killian stayed behind to go to the bathroom, kissing Milah briefly and assuring her he'd lock the place before he left. When he got out, though, he was completely taken aback when he found Emma waiting for him sitting on the couch, a curious expression thrown his way. He stood in front of her, not sure what to say or do, waiting for her to talk or at least tell him what the hell she was doing there, alone. With him.

She was positively driving him nuts.

Taking a deep breath, she exhaled and said, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Don't act innocent with me. You're the only one I told about that story - and saw the pictures. Coincidence? I think not."

His lips twitched, recalling that night. They had been bored and he had brought his laptop with him, and they had stalked each other's pictures just to make fun of each other. When he had laughed at a couple of photographs in which she was wearing a black hat, she had slapped his arm and said how she had mourned the loss of said hat, and explained how much she had adored it and wished she could find another one just like that one.

When he had been told about Emma's birthday, he had raked his brain for something to give to her. The candy had been all something to give for the audience - even though he was sure she'd appreciate it nevertheless, - but when the sudden memory of the lost hat had assaulted him, he knew he had to make sure she got it. He wasn't sure she'd know it was from him - and he wouldn't tell her if she didn't, he just wanted her to have it back, as she had spoken of the thing like it was golden or something, - but he got this tiny part of him wishing that she would put two and two together and, hopefully, forgive him at last.

"It was nothing, Swan. Everybody gets presents for their birthdays. Don't read too much into it," he played it off, his body tensing uncomfortably under her scrutiny.

Her eyes met his in a slightly defiant stare. "I won't. Just wondering then why didn't you say it was from you."

His face broke into a knowing grin, dipping his head in her direction and dropping his voice. "What's a party without a little bit of mystery?"

She made a face at him, a real 'I-see-your-bullshit' mask on place. "Sure."

His smile faded slowly as he stared at her, hard, hat still over her curls. She looked amazing, as always. Clearing his throat, he added, "And of course, it looks great on you - maybe I was just being selfish?"

They both stared at each other for a whole minute, just trying to read the other, an unspoken conversation between them that could have been filled with angry yells and accusations in complete silence. He took in the light freckles on her nose, her pale cheeks, the glow in her eyes, and he wished for the hundredth time that she would let him in once more, if not for the sole reason of being able to stare at her and knowing she wouldn't have a problem with it.

And, all of a sudden, it happened.

Her smile started off small, until it spread across her lips and made her whole face glow. "You and your riddles," she chuckled.

And he knew he was forgiven.

He felt so elated he wanted to scream, yet all he managed was to flash her a cocky grin in response. "You love them."

"Oh, I really do," she countered back.

He didn't know if it was wishful thinking or his muddled brain after the realization that she had let go of her anger towards him, but he felt like she had meant it in another way.

Like she really loved something else apart from his riddles.

Or someone.

"Fuck it..." Killian tried to call once again, but Emma wasn't picking it up. He was standing outside of her apartment, waiting to see if she could open the door for him. Milah had forgotten her keys and had sent him in a panic to look for them while she was in a really important meeting of hers and, seeing as she didn't want to bother her roommate just in case she had plans, had asked Killian to go and pick them up for her. This would be a really plausible plan if only Emma would deem it appropriate to open the fucking door, of course.

Reaching her voicemail for the sixth time since he had been standing there waiting for her to show up, he was about to give up when he heard soft padding sounds inside the apartment, and a sound closer to a growl than anything escaped his lips, ready to give her a piece of his mind about properly using her freaking phone - or, you know, a doorbell. He was tired, he wanted to go home and lie down after the long day he'd had, and he by all means wasn't looking forward to have to drive all the way to Milah's work just to give her her keys, but he had promised he would, and he couldn't leave her hanging now, as much as he wished to go all 'fuck it all to hell' and go drink himself into oblivion or something.

A scathing remark on the tip of his tongue, the door opened after the unmistakable sound of clinking of the locks, but it never came out, as before him stood a very, very wet Emma Swan, wearing a bathrobe, her skin pink and flushed and steam coming off of her in waves along with droplets of water falling from her nose and hair.

Something inside of him seemed to break loose at her sight.

He gathered her in his arms and pressed his lips fiercely to hers, swallowing her surprised gasp. Then, to his delight - and not so much surprise, he acknowledged in a faraway corner of his mind, - she was kissing him back, and Killian could feel the final wall between them crumbling away. There were no more barriers, nothing between Emma Swan and him, nothing to make him try to question what the hell he was thinking by barging into her place and kissing the fuck out of her, and it made him feel naked and vulnerable, but free at the same time. He put everything he had into their kiss – poured all of his confusion, uncertainty, fear, and joy into it, until he felt as if he had emptied out his soul and poured it into her. He spread his hands against the small of her back, pulling her body flush against his, while she began clawing frantically at his shirt. She unbuttoned it and slid the material off his shoulders to let it drop to the floor. Then her hands and mouth were everywhere at once, exploring his chest, his neck, his stomach…

Killian groaned at the overwhelming sensation. His skin felt hypersensitive to every kiss and caress Emma bestowed upon it. When he thought he would explode if he had to endure the sweet torture any longer, he pushed her gently away, and he studied her under his eyelashes when his hands came to grip the edges of her bathrobe, an unspoken question in his eyes. Realizing his intentions, her own came to rest upon his, letting it open tantalizingly slowly, baring her to him. His sharp intake of breath when she stood there in front of him, completely naked and still wet from her shower, was lost to the soft thud of the robe falling, now added to the growing pile of clothing on the floor.

Killian stared and stared, drinking in the sight of her and thinking that she had never looked so beautiful - and that was saying something. Not in that dress in the club, not even in her pajamas, not her usual work clothes. She exuded this charm, this irrational beauty no matter what she was doing or wearing, it was difficult not to feel drawn to her. His eyes raked hungrily over the curves of her hips, her slender waist, her breasts, her wet hair. Then he let his hands follow the same path his eyes had just taken, as he traced every curve and dimple of her body, learning the texture of her skin and wishing he had all the time in the world to do so. At first his touch was timid, as he waited to see her reaction; Killian was firmly convinced that she would soon jerk away from him and accuse him of accosting her, of daring to cheat on Milah with her, and every other horrible thing she could - and should - throw at him. But, to his utmost surprise - and traitorous relief - soon the awkwardness between them melted away, as if they had been doing this together for ages instead of right now, and as she responded enthusiastically to his ministrations, his caresses became firmer and more confident.

Emma's head fell back and her eyes drifted closed as he explored her stomach, taut and pale and so fucking soft to touch. When his hands went to cup her breasts, she let out a moan full of need and arched into his touch, and with a hiss of pleasure, she proceeded to hurriedly unbutton his trousers. He stepped out of them and his boxers, not even questioning it - he clearly wasn't thinking straight, what the hell was he doing either way? - and, with a growl, he brought his mouth crashing down on hers once more, no longer any hesitation or uncertainty in their kiss. They kissed just as they did anything else in life – aggressively and passionately, with each of them fighting for dominance over the other.

Through a fog of need and desire, Killian tried to think of the best way to transport the two of them to the bedroom, but when Emma urgently stroked him with her hand, any thoughts of moving anywhere flew out the window. With growing impatience, he grabbed her by the hips and hoisted her up against the wall. She gasped, and he looked down at her with concern, afraid that he had hurt her by banging her head in the process. But there was no pain in her eyes - only a burning, all-consuming desire.

"Killian, please," she whispered. He let out a loud whimper - it was the first time she ever called him by his name. She wrapped her legs around his waist to pull him in even closer, and he very nearly was done right then. Both of them were trembling like leaves, and he had to take a deep breath to steady himself. He stared at her, a hand coming up to cup her cheek and feeling like a complete coward, silently begging her to ask him to stop. It wasn't too late for them to go back. It wasn't too late to try to fix this, whatever it was that was going on between them.

It wasn't too late to try to step back and... And what?

Who the fuck did he think he was kidding, they had crossed that line since the moment he laid eyes on her.

When he saw his own unwavering passion laced with desperation mirrored in her eyes, with another deep breath, he was finally sinking into her, until he was buried to the hilt in her warm depths.

"God, Emma," he groaned. His head fell forward to rest on her shoulder as he tried to gather his senses. She stroked his back reassuringly, and he pulled out and sank into her again, making both of them moan from the friction. The pleasure was almost unbearable. At first his movements were excruciatingly slow, but then he picked up speed, moving faster and deeper with each thrust. Soon they were both covered in a fine sheen of sweat, making it more difficult for him to maintain his grip on her, and his arms and thighs were burning from the strain, but he couldn't bring himself to care. All of this was lost in the taste of her lips and the feel of her hands as they explored all the places where their bodies joined.

"This... this...is," Killian rasped. "I don't know what this is."

"Then shut the fuck up, Killian," she said, just as breathlessly.

"Say it again," he whispered.

"Shut the fuck up."

"No, not that." He laughed, breathlessly. "Say my name."

"Killian."

"Again," he demanded, as he squeezed one hand in between them to stroke her. She gasped and twitched at his touch.

"Killian... Killian... Killian!" she cried out as she convulsed in his arms, her head lolling back against the wall, and he began thrusting even harder than before. He could feel his own orgasm building, but he forced himself to focus on Emma, with her flushed cheeks and her moist lips parted in a silent scream of pleasure. He had wondered how she'd look in the throes of passion so many times, so many hours at night - and day - trying to imagine how she'd feel under him, how she'd taste, how she'd react to him, and now he was presented with the real thing, the sight of her face in front of him so divine, that he didn't want to lose any second of it. It wasn't later when he had to bury his face in the crook of her neck to stifle a shout as white light tinted the edge of his vision as he reached his peak.

Killian's knees nearly buckled with exhaustion as he set her awkwardly back on the ground. He kept one arm looped around her waist, and used the other to brace himself against the wall. They were both breathing as hard as if they had just run a marathon. And in a way, maybe they had. He nearly jumped in surprise when Emma reached up to brush his sweaty fringe out of his eyes, and he couldn't restrain himself from giving her a slow, soft kiss at her sudden gesture of tenderness.

He pulled away, still breathless, and tipped his forehead against hers, dreading the moment she'd come back to her senses and acknowledge what they had just done.

What they had broken.

What they had started.

When guilt, reason and reality would come crashing down on them.

"This... was a mistake," she finally whispered against his lips, and he fought the urge to close the gap between them once more.

Fuck it.

Kissing her once more, he answered in the same hushed voice, "A perfect mistake."

He didn't know what compelled him to say it, but it just seemed like the right thing to say. It had been perfect, it had been everything that he had ever imagined it would feel with her. Yet he all but couldn't deny the ugly truth: that it had been a mistake, as she wasn't his, and he wasn't hers. Even if they had been each other's for a short time, it had been an illusion.

Who knew how it'd feel if there were no restrictions, nothing to pay respect to.

Apparently, it wasn't what Emma wanted to hear, as her hands came up and pushed his chest lightly, so she could step around him and snatch her bathrobe from the floor, gingerly putting it back on under his scrutinizing stare. "Stop it," she muttered while he padded to where his underwear and pants laid hazardously a few feet away. After dressing himself, he whirled around to face her, as she stood in the middle of the living room biting her bottom lip, a hand massaging her temples in distress.

"Emma. Stop blaming yourself. I am the one in a relationship here, not you," he told her, the truth behind his words leaving him completely speechless for a moment. God, what had he done? What was he going to tell Milah? Was he going to? She would kick Emma out as soon as she heard. Fuck, he was screwed. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

Before his thoughts could spiral out of control and he threw himself out of the balcony in an easy exit to his problems, Emma laughed mirthlessly in front of him, a dark, pained sound that made him wince, knowing how the real thing could be - knowing how Emma's real smile and laugh could probably cure cancer if bottled up, as he had told her once when he had been too far gone one night at a party not long ago. "Great, being the home-wrecker is way better."

He lifted astonished eyes in her direction. What did she mean? "Home-wrecker?"

She stopped herself, frozen in her spot. The dubious tone she used just then made his heart ache for her all over again, the faraway look on her eyes giving her that abandoned young girl quality he so hated to see in them. "What are you going to do?"

Oh, God. She had immediately come to the conclusion that he'd leave Milah for her? But...

"I - I don't know," he finally managed awkwardly, attempting not to look like a complete asshole and a coward wringing his hands together and shuffling on his feet like a compete idiot. Quite the challenge at the moment.

"Well, then you should have started right there." He only had time to see her damp hair billowing around her as she turned around and marched in long strides in her bedroom's direction, the venom in her voice palpable. He followed her, not knowing what he was expecting from this exchange at all.

Like every one of them he had had with her since they had met, if he pondered about it.

"Emma..."

He was cut off when she spun on her feet once more and nearly ran into him, her nose nearly brushing his chest, her finger pointed at him menacingly. "No, you don't get to 'Emma' me. You don't just get to... come in here, fuck me against the wall and go your merry way. I was fine, I was okay until you showed up in my life! And now, now everything is ruined. What have I done?," she nearly yelled, anguish lacing her words. "All my life I have looked down at girls who did this to their friends. And now I've become one of them. What does this say about me?"

Killian felt his own anger take control of him, snapping something that had been festering inside of him since this girl had waltzed into his life and all but made a mess of it. Snatching her hand in his in a sudden move that seemed to take her aback, he countered back in a growl, "You think this is easy for me? I was the one who was fine and dandy until you came! For fuck's sake, I have been with my girlfriend for ten years - ten! And you show up, with your hair and your stupid sweet smell and your sad eyes and your tiny smiles and you make me want to tear out my hair every time I see you because you're so goddamm stubborn and beautiful and you make me sick."

By the time he was done, his chest was heaving against hers, energy seemingly leaving him in waves as he poured everything out for her to see.

"Well, you do make me sick too, buddy, so welcome aboard the horribly confused and fucked-up people club," she all but spat, sea-green eyes blazing up at his face, the intensity in them nearly scorching him.

"Don't you dare laugh at me, Emma."

She freed her wrist from his grasp with a violent tug, stepping back from his body in an attempt to put space between them. "I am really not. I just - I gotta go. I cannot stay here any longer."

...oh, no.

"What?"

She had been retreating back to her room - and he, like a lost puppy, of course had had to follow her, both of them standing in the doorframe, her inside and him just on the threshold. Waiting for what, he mused to himself. What did he think he was doing, for that matter? Putting a stray lock of hair behind her ear, she sent him a tired look, like she knew what was going to happen. He'd love some tips, as he had no fucking clue what to do. "Why did you come here today?"

"I had to pick up Milah's keys and give them to her."

"And you'll stay with her later." It wasn't a question.

"Probably."

"And you'll sleep with her."

"Emma..."

"And I will be behind that wall. I...," her voice caught, and he saw her squeezing her eyes shut - but not fast enough that he couldn't spy the moisture gathering in them. "I can't. I won't be able to stand it." Breathing deeply, she finally opened them once more to peer at him under her lashes, the vulnerability from earlier gone, now replaced by a harsh determination. "And I'm sorry, but I cannot look at her in the face after this. I just can't. She's been anything but kind to me since I moved here, and how do I repay her? By fucking her boyfriend. A+ friend material, I am."

The self-loathing in her speech made Killian want to beat himself to death. He had made this to her. He had all but pushed her away by taking what he had though would made them - make them what? In what fucking alternate universe had he thought this would be a good idea at all? "And what are you going to do? Just - disappear?"

"It has worked quite well for me in the past."

"Please, Emma, don't do this," he begged her, not ashamed at his pleading tone. She hung her head, not daring to meet his eyes, choosing to stare at her bare feet and the tiny droplets of water that had followed her path since she had left her shower.

"It's the only way."

"It is not. Just..."

She cut him off before he could continue, shaking her head sadly. "You're not leaving her - nor do I want you to."

"You don't?"

"I... I don't know. It sounds selfish to want you just by taking away someone else's happiness." Killian stared at her in wonder. This would have been the first time that he had seen her open herself up to him, the most sincere she had ever been since he had come to meet her. She shook her head, defeated, fingers caressing her tear-stained cheeks. "Either way, I can't blame you. You're choosing her. I'm way used to no one choosing me." Her voice dropped so much that he could barely catch what she said then. "I wouldn't choose me either."

And the pain that he had thought he was feeling, that he had thought was already the worst he had ever felt in his whole life, multiplied at the sight of her broken self. He stepped towards her, coming to step almost inside her bedroom, frantic desperation now clouding his actions and words. "Emma, please. I... I need time. I don't know what to do."

She smiled softly at him, with such tenderness and near adoration but clogged with misery at the same time that he found himself unable to breath. "But you do. And I love you for it. For choosing the harder path and trying to save a relationship you've worked so hard for in the first place." She put a hand over his chest, where his heart kept hammering loudly, a beating drum announcing the tragedy, the climax of the scene, the parting of the star-crossed lovers.

"I don't want to lose you," he murmured, taking her hand in his and kissing her fingers tenderly, a quick brush of lips on skin. More tears escaped her eyes, sparkling against her pale skin in the dim light of the room behind her, and she released her hand once more, stepping back, coming further inside her haven, her home.

Her home that now would be no more if she left.

"But that's the thing. You've never had me," she confessed. "Goodbye, Jones."

...so. I had this idea the other day and it wouldn't literally leave me alone. At all. It didn't. I couldn't sleep or focus on anything, and as soon as TLB was updated, I started to write this. Because I'm a stupid masochist and apparently I'm in for heartbreak and pain and tearing up while I type and just... plain angst.

Hope you guys liked (HA) (cried with me because this mofo hurt) it. Review if you wanna. Yell at me. Cry with me. Share my pain.

Love you all, beautiful special creatures of the internet. Bless you.

Many thanks to Cee for crying with me when I mentioned her this idea and her much appreciated comments through her beta revisions ('THIS EMMA MAKES ME WANT TO SCRATCH MY EYES OUT AND HOWL IN NEVERENDING PAIN', ''it's so real tho it's scary actually', 'FUCK. ME. SIDEWAYS').

PS: this was written while "Icarus" by Bastille, "Drifting Further Away" by Powderfinger and "Speeding Cars" by Imogen Heap played. Loads of Bastille tbh. And loads of The Tudors OST. (Fuck you Cee).