AN: Wow guys, thank you for being so nice! I'm glad to see that I've caught the attention of people who have seen August Rush as well as those who haven't! A few things you should probably know about this story as far as characters go is that a lot of them are going to seem at least somewhat out of character. This ESPECIALLY goes for David. He sadly needs to be OOC for this story, but I'm trying to keep Mary Margaret as in character as possible to balance things out. So yeah, if that's not your thing that I wouldn't recommend this story to you. I figured I may as well tell you now than have you keep reading and be disappointed. Thanks again for taking the time to read this and for telling me you like it! It means a lot! Hope you like this chapter!

Chapter 2

Emma sat quietly on the couch of the high-end Upper East Side apartment at which the party was being held. She stared mindlessly into her solo cup of water while a couple on the opposite end of the couch, who were currently involved in a very passionate make-out session, began to inch towards her. Emma eventually looked up from her drink and found that the couple was nearly touching her now. Feeling uncomfortable, she carefully got up so as not to disturb them and drank the rest of her water before finding a trash can and tossing her cup.

Emma wandered through the apartment until she happened upon the living room where the party's major activity was taking place. Music was playing loudly as many of the party-goers danced and laughed, clearly having a great time.

"Emma!" someone called her name and she looked through the crowd until she found the familiar faces of her friends. Ruby was waving at her to join them but Emma quickly pretended not to notice and turned away, going back the way she came.

She began wandering aimlessly once again, disappointed at how bored she had become. What she had originally hoped would be a fun evening away from her responsibilities had turned out to be a dud. She should have just gone home like her father had wanted. To be honest, Emma hated parties, and she had no idea why she'd even agreed to come in the first place.

While Emma contemplated whether she should leave earlier than she'd originally planned, she mindlessly made her way down the hallway that led from the kitchen until she reached an open window at the end which led to a fire escape. She poked her head outside and closed her eyes, breathing in the chilled evening air. The bitter cold of winter had slowly begun to fade away as March came to an end, but the bite was still in the air and Emma soon felt her nose grow numb.

Emma opened her eyes and was about to push away from the window when she heard the sound of music coming from the street below. She stuck her head further out the window in search of the music's source and saw a man walking up and down the block playing a guitar. She stood at the window a moment longer, enjoying the sound momentarily before opening the window further and slipping out onto the fire escape.

Despite being five floors up the wind was not as harsh as Emma had believed it would be, but it still blew enough to make her shiver. She pulled her cardigan tightly around her shoulders and crossed her arms securely in an attempt to keep warm as she leaned against the wrought iron railing of the fire escape and observed the musician. The sweet, gentle tune filled her ears and she soon became lost within it. Her eyes slid shut and she breathed a sigh of content, happy that she was able to find at least one enjoyable aspect of the evening.

"It's a beautiful sound, isn't it?" the voice of a man with an attractive English accent sounded from somewhere behind her, causing Emma to jump.

She gasped loudly, her hand shooting up to rest over her heart as though she were trying to prevent it from leaping out of her chest as she spun around in surprise. Emma looked left to right and back through the window she'd climbed through but didn't see anyone. It wasn't until she looked up that she found the voice's owner.

He was sitting atop the roof just above her with one of his legs dangling over the edge, and he was staring at her with deep blue eyes. His hair was dark and tousled and his face was quite handsome with stubble covering his chin. He wore a leather jacket with a gray T-shirt underneath and denim skinny jeans to complete the ensemble.

Emma suddenly realized that she was staring, so she averted her eyes and exhaled sharply.

"You scared me," she told him with a breathy laugh.

"My apologies," he replied, his eyes shining with sincerity.

She paused and looked around, curious to see if anyone else was around, but it appeared to be just the two of them.

"What are you doing up there?" Emma eventually asked.

"The same thing you're doing down there," he said matter-of-factly, smiling at her when she gave him a slightly confused look. He nodded towards the street where the musician was still playing his guitar. "I'm listening."

"Right," she nodded, feeling slightly awkward as she often did with strangers. She looked over her shoulder towards the street, then glanced over at the window as she considered going back inside when the strangers spoke again.

"Well, are you gonna just stand there or are you going to sit down?" he asked.

Emma froze and looked back up at him as he pat the roof beside him.

"Up there?" she raised one of her eyebrows questioningly.

He simply laughed in response and gestured for her to join him. There weren't any stairs leading to the roof, but instead there was a ladder that was bolted to the side of the apartment a few feet away from where he was sitting. Emma hesitated, but eventually moved towards it and climbed until she reached the top. She looked around the roof and found that, instead of being empty, it was occupied by quaint little rooftop garden complete with outdoor furniture and even a small fountain.

Emma turned herself around so that she was facing the street and lifted herself up onto the edge of the roof, scooting away from the ladder so that she was closer to the stranger that had invited her up there in the first place. She sat with her hands folded in her lap, occasionally rubbing them together in order to warm them up.

"You're a musician," the stranger suddenly said. It was a statement, not a question.

She looked over at him in surprise.

"How do you know that?" she asked.

He boldly reached over and gently took her left hand, holding it so that the palm was facing up.

"You have callouses," he told her.

Emma looked at the tips of her fingers and wondered how he had been able to spot the barely noticeable callouses she'd developed due to years of playing the violin.

He began pulling his hand away and as he did Emma was able to spy his own set of much more noticeable callouses on his fingertips.

"So do you," she pointed out.

"Indeed I do," he confirmed.

"What do you play?" she asked curiously.

"I play the bass in a band with my brother and two of my best mates," he told her. "What about you?"

"Violin," she said.

"Ah, I figured," he nodded.

"Why?" she smiled.

"Well, a musician is often reflected by their preferred instrument, and the violin is very dainty, elegant," he paused and turned to look at her, "beautiful."

Emma felt her cheeks burn and she quickly looked down, hoping he wouldn't notice.

"So," she cleared her throat, "how long have you been playing the bass?"

"Since I was fifteen," he told her. "My father wanted my brother and me to learn an instrument, but all we had were some old guitars and a bass that belonged to our grandfather. We couldn't afford to buy something new, so my brother got a guitar and I was given the bass. We've been playing ever since and formed our band a few years back. Now we go from club to club doing shows."

"Sounds exciting," Emma sighed, slightly jealous of the amount of freedom he had.

"To be honest, it's not all it's cracked up to be."

"Why not? Don't you enjoy playing?"

"Of course I do. I love it more than life itself sometimes. It's just that lately it feels like I'm only playing so we can pay the next month's rent," he explained. "I don't know. I suppose it's not as fun when you feel so…"

"Pressured," she finished for him.

They turned and looked at each other with mutual understanding.

"Exactly," he nodded.

They fell into silence for a while, doing nothing but sitting and listening as the guitarist below continued to play his gentle tune.

"Killian," the stranger suddenly broke the silence.

Emma looked at him in confusion.

"My name," he said. "It's Killian."

"Emma," she introduced herself in response.

"So Emma, what's your story?" Killian asked.

"I don't really have much of a story," she told him.

"Why not let me be the judge of that," he offered.

Emma smiled a little and looked down at her hands.

"Well, I've been playing the violin for as long as I can remember," she began. "My dad, he's the one that insisted I learn. He's had my entire life planned out for me since I had my first concert when I was seven."

"You make playing sound like a burden," Killian told her.

"No, it's not a burden," she shook her head. "I love it, I really do. It's just hard having to worry about living up to my father's standards."

"Ah," he nodded in understanding. "Pressure."

"Yeah," Emma grimaced.

Killian was silent for a moment, allowing the music from below to flow smoothly.

"This is a great song," he sighed.

"You know it?" she wondered.

"No," he smiled, "but it's one hell of a tune."

"Yeah," she agreed.

"In fact," Killian suddenly jumped to his feet. "It sort of makes you feel like dancing."

Emma laughed when he held out his hand to her.

"Sorry," she shook her head. "I'm a terrible dancer."

"Well then, I suppose you'll just have to follow my lead."

He waited, watching her as she contemplated whether to take his hand or decline once and for all. She eventually made up her mind though and cautiously took his hand. He grinned like an idiot and helped her to her feet, pulling her away from the roof's edge and towards an open space in the middle of the garden.

Killian stopped and turned to face her, using the grasp he already had on her hand to pull her closer to him. Emma looked down at her feet, clearly unsure of herself, but he wrapped his arms around her waist and she soon linked her hands around his neck. They began to slowly sway and spin to the sound of the music from the street below and Killian caught Emma smiling.

"Well look at you," he said softly. "You're not such a bad dancer after all."

She laughed and it was an even sweeter sound than the melody they were dancing to.

"Don't jinx it," she warned him. "I'll end up stepping on your feet at least once, I guarantee it."

"I think I'll survive," he chuckled.

Emma looked down, seeming suddenly worried that she actually might step on his feet, so he quickly made an attempt to reclaim her attention.

"So tell me love, how does a pretty lass such as yourself find herself alone at a party like this one?"

"I guess I'm just naturally a loner," she shrugged.

"You're not here with anyone?" he pressed.

"Ah," she smirked. "You're wondering if I have a boyfriend."

"Call it a form of self-preservation," he told her. "It'd be a shame to have such a delightful evening end with my ass getting kicked by your jealous boyfriend."

"I don't have a boyfriend," she assured him.

"I find that hard to believe."

"Well, I'm not lying," she promised.

"You must be," he shook his head. "There's no way a woman as beautiful as yourself is single."

"I guess I'm an anomaly then," Emma blushed.

Killian smiled and stared into her eyes as they continued dancing.

"So," she sighed, "will you and your band be performing somewhere anytime soon?"

"I'm not sure actually," he replied thoughtfully. "We might pick up a gig while we're home for a few weeks…"

"Home?" Emma said questioningly. "Where's home?"

"England," he told her. "London to be exact."

"Sounds amazing," she sighed.

"It's a great town," he smiled. "We've finally saved up enough to go and visit for a few weeks."

"How long has it been since you've been back?"

"Almost a year now," he explained. "My brother and I had to go back for our father's funeral last May, so that was the last time we were there."

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"It's alright," he assured her.

"I'm sure it's going to be great going back under better circumstances," Emma smiled in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Yes, I suppose so," he agreed. "If I'm being completely honest, though, New York suddenly seems a little more desirable," Killian shrugged, smiling when he saw her blush yet again. She blushed a lot, and he loved it.

"I've always wanted to visit London," she told him.

"So why haven't you?"

"My dad," she explained. "He has my whole life planned, remember? He didn't really include time for travel on the schedule."

"But if it's something you want to do, why not at least tell him? Maybe he'll understand," he mused.

"I don't know," she shook her head. "I've never really been brave enough to stand up to him. I've never been brave enough to do anything unless my father approves of it."

"No offense, but that doesn't sound like much of a life," he said cautiously.

Emma's face went expressionless as realization dawned on her.

"You're right, it's not," she said. "I've never done anything that involves any sort of risk. Not once in my life have I taken a chance on anything or anyone. Everything has always been set in stone, and now I'm realizing that I don't think I want that anymore."

They stopped dancing and Emma turned away from him as she continued speaking excitedly.

"I wish, for once, that I could do something crazy. Something that my father wouldn't approve of. I wish I could take a chance without knowing what was going to happen next."

"So why don't you?" Killian asked.

She turned back and looked at him with a smile on her face.

"I don't know," she laughed. "I should though, right? I should take a chance and do something crazy."

Killian stood there staring at her as she walked back towards him and stopped when she was but a few inches away. The pale light from the full moon illuminated her face, making her eyes seem brighter and her smile more beautiful. She was absolutely stunning and he couldn't make himself look away if he tried.

When they'd been standing there for what seemed like minutes, Emma's smile slowly faded as she grew self-conscious of his staring.

"What are you looking at?" she asked shyly.

Instead of answering her he felt himself slowly begin to lean towards her. He noticed her stiffen and he paused, waiting for her to move away from him. When she remained where she was he moved closer, not stopping until his lips pressed against hers. His hand came up to cup her face as he wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her close.

Emma remained frozen for a moment, but soon encircled her arms around his neck and kissed him back gently. The music had begun to fade away as the musician likely started to move on from his current spot, but Killian didn't notice and he doubted Emma did either. All he knew was that he was here, in the most beautiful city in the world with the most beautiful girl he'd ever met, and, for the first time in months, he was happy.

So how's it going? This took a lot longer than expected. I got a bad case of writers block and I officially applied to my first choice college and I also had to write the first three pages of a five page research paper (the whole thing is due on Wednesday, bleh). Basically, I've been busy. Like, really busy. Oh, and let's not forget that OUAT has been consistently ruining my life and making it impossible to focus on anything at all. I think those are all my excuses, so now all I can say is that I'm sorry it took longer than I'd hoped and I really hope you liked this chapter regardless! It's pretty important! Okay that's all now. Hope you come back next time!