Chapter 4: Proximity
Related elements should be placed together.For Emma, the early morning sun was always a strange sight to see. It's even more disconcerting as she makes the silent trek to the front door of her apartment, the warm rays beaming down on her like a spotlight.
Emma slowly opened the door to her apartment, careful not to alert her roommate, knowing how lightly she slept. As Emma started to take off her jacket, she felt an unfamiliar fabric under it, and realized she had picked up Killian's scarf on her way out. She hung the scarf on the coat stand, softly fingering it, lost in thought.
"Ahem."
"Holy sh-…Elsa!" Emma jumped, nearly knocking over the coat stand over. Her blonde roommate stood expectantly in the hallway with her arms crossed, already dressed for class that day, her long hair plaited neatly over her shoulder.
"I… wasn't expecting you to be up this early," Emma recovered, taking her beanie off, and casually strolled into their kitchen to the fridge, where she pulled a jug of orange juice out and set it down on their breakfast bar. Elsa followed her in and leaned over and placed her elbows on the bar. Her back was turned to grab a glass from a cupboard, but Emma could still feel those ice-blue eyes silently judging her. She sighed as she turned back to pour some juice in her glass, but before she could grab the jug, Elsa snatched it from her and held it hostage.
"Elsa," Emma groaned, setting the glass down and defiantly met her roommate's glare. Elsa kept her icy silence, and grabbed the glass Emma had pulled down, and poured juice in it. Emma gave a hopeful smile which quickly faded as she watched Elsa proceed to take a nice long drink from it.
"That's just cold," Emma whined, as she then pulled another glass down, and poured her own drink. Elsa just shrugged, clearly not bothered by her actions.
Emma didn't know why she put up with Elsa's passive aggressiveness. Perhaps it was because she was aggressive herself, more of a shoot now and ask questions later kind of girl. Elsa was cool-headed and patient, where Emma was not. She had a mean perfectionist streak, and was annoyed to no end with Emma's constant messes that came with being a painter. However, this trait allowed her to excel in her studies in architecture.
Emma and Elsa had actually met in a painting class in their first semester studying at Storybrooke University. It was a required class for both of them; however, Elsa was having trouble getting used to the fact she needed to get a little bit messy. She grew up with very strict parents, and though she wanted to pursue the arts, she compromised by being in a major that was "respectable" (read: employable). (Which, if those top 10 lists of Worst Majors to be in right now are to be believed, Architecture may not have been the best choice.)
Emma sat next to her, and while she thought she knew she painted well, it didn't have the technical refinement that Elsa seemed to achieve—even though Elsa's was always marked down for her works not having enough interest or passion. And although Professor Merlin was one of the more forgiving instructors at their University, he still knew the potential they both had and encouraged them to work together.
That very same year, Elsa's parents had died, and she suddenly had come into a very large trust fund as well as guardianship of her younger sister, who had just entered her senior year of high school. Emma, knowing a thing or two about loss, comforted her and helped her through it. They had been best friends ever since.
"So, where were you last night?" Elsa said, shortly and straight to the point, primly wiping her mouth with a napkin. Emma finished off her orange juice and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
"I told you I was going to be late, Mom." Emma rolled her eyes, before going to grab some PopTarts, suddenly ravenous.
"I already have Anna to worry about; I don't need to be keeping tabs on you as well," Elsa chided. "Besides, you said to 'not wait up for you'—which is pretty cryptic in itself. I can't help it if I'm curious."
Emma shrugged, setting up her PopTarts in the toaster. "I was just at Killian's, finishing up Gold's project."
Elsa lifted a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Oh, really."
"Yes really… Wait, do you even know who I'm talking about?"
"He does have a reputation." Jesus, the art department was way too small.
"Well, he's just… a friend." Emma said defeatedly. Elsa smirked, knowingly.
Emma shook her head. "No, he just helped me with my project for Gold, and it was late, so I slept there for the night… As a friend. Nothing weird." The PopTarts popped out of the toaster at that moment, which allowed Emma to hide her blush as she went to retrieve them.
Elsa continued to stare at Emma skeptically, then shook her head. "Well, where is this 'project' you finished so late last night?" Elsa teased, as she picked up her plastic carrying tube that held her blueprints and projects and slung it over her shoulder.
Emma sighed with relief that she was no longer being interrogated about Killian, and went over and picked up her project where she left it, and lifted the vellum cover to reveal the artwork underneath.
"Oh, Emma…" Elsa breathed, lifting her hand, wanting to touch it but restrained herself. "This is beautiful."
"Really?" Emma smiled softly, and joked, "I guess, as long as Gold doesn't tear it up, I'm fine."
Elsa laughed. "I think it's something really special. You'll do great today." She gave Emma a rare, warm smile.
"Well, I'm off to the Drafting Lab to get these plans done, but don't think for a second that you're off the hook just yet about Killian Jones." Elsa continued to giggle mercilessly as she left Emma alone in their apartment.
Emma frowned as she ate her PopTart. If Killian Jones was just a friend, then why did the thought of him being "just a friend" make Emma so uneasy? It wasn't as though there were hints of anything more—were there? As if her nerves weren't frayed as it were, the idea of seeing Killian again filled her both with longing and dread. Perhaps it wasn't a great idea to take up his offer of help. Gold's class was hard enough as it was without him distracting her with his piercing looks.
Get a grip, Emma. She told herself as she wiped off the counter and rinsed off the glasses. You were able to make it through a whole semester with him in your class; that's not going to stop you now.
The more she reflected on the last 24 hours, Emma was determined to not allow herself to delve deeper whatever feelings were bubbling up to the surface. Besides, she had finals to worry about and that was more important than deciding whether or not to pursue anything more than a friendship with a gorgeous, blue-eyed graphic designer.
Emma picked at an errant paint drop on her black pencil skirt nervously as she waited outside of Gold's class on Crit Day. No matter how hard she tried, paint seemed to get everywhere on her, and to be fair, this was the only piece of clothing that didn't have an obscene amount of paint on it.
It wasn't a requirement to dress up for Crit Days, though Gold had always seemed to scoff at her paint-splattered wardrobe before. At least she made the effort to look somewhat professional today, with her hair falling in waves, glasses on, and a smart black blazer to tie off the look.
Frustrated, she gave up on the splotch and looked up in time to see a familiar form making a determined saunter up to her. Emma looked around nervously, but the hallway she was in was devoid of any other life form, and the only exit was in the direction of the one person she was desperately trying to avoid.
Not that she would admit that she was actively avoiding him. And so what if Emma took the back way around, that took her nowhere near the computer lab or the art building courtyard, or any place Killian Jones might be? He was never early to Gold's class, always swaggering in right at the last minute in a small act of defiance against the formidable professor.
But seeing him again in the light of day forced Emma to reflect once again on the thoughts she tried to repress in the morning. She was determined that because although he was a friend, they weren't necessarily friendly—she trusted him, sure, but that didn't stop the warning bells going off in her head when he got too close. She probably revealed more than she should've last night. Perhaps that's the reason why she left without saying goodbye in the first place. It was just easier that way. Rather than see the look of realization in his eyes as the morning light shone through the cracks in her broken facade—a lost girl whom no one could ever love.
That's the problem with her walls. Though they kept her safe, and they made her feel strong, that so-called strength was just a weak excuse to keep people out and to keep her from getting hurt. The worst part about this was that she was highly aware of them.
And the problem with Killian was that he was highly aware of them as well. And just one night with him, shared in the most unromantic way, shook her foundation and threatened to topple her walls all down. If that's all one night had done to them, what destruction would happen if she allowed their relationship to progress as far as her heart wanted it to?
Despite wanting to be something more, she did not want to risk not having him in her life. Because one thing that Emma was absolutely sure of after last night was that she wanted more of him in her life. If that was at a capacity of familiar head nods as they passed each other in the hallway, then so be it.
These were the very thoughts Emma had gone over and over all morning since she had left his apartment. But these very thoughts also disappeared as she saw him approach her, steadfast and assured. In sudden clarity, Emma knew friendly head nods would never suffice. The safe walls she had built were suffocating and lonely, but when she looked at Killian at the end of the hall, she felt open and free.
As he got closer to her, his sure steps faltered a bit, as though he wasn't quite sure how to approach her. She was blatantly staring at him now, expectedly. Perhaps he wasn't expecting her to be. A small zing of pride rushed through her, having thrown him off his game.
Killian gave a soft smile, and scratched the spot behind his ear in a nervous tick, while he kept his left hand curled up in a fist by his side.
"You ...left something."
He held her note in his hand. The one she left haphazardly stuck to his monitor before she made her hasty exit from his apartment. It was worn, as though it'd been folded and unfolded several times. "I can't take a chance that I'm wrong about you" written as though who ever wrote it already had one foot out the door.
Emma blinked, now the one to be caught off-guard. It felt as though she had written that note years ago, rather than just hours. "I'm—"
"No need to apologize, Swan." Killian shook his head.
"No, I… I'm sorry, Killian. You were great last night… I mean," Emma blushed, but Killian just smiled and nodded, encouraging her with a lifted eyebrow to go on.
Emma smiled in return. "I just want to say, thank you for sacrificing your beauty sleep in helping me with my project last night.
"What can I say, Swan. I've survived through worse all-nighters and still retained my youthful glow." Killian was smiling full-on now. "The company was enjoyable this time around, at least."
They both laughed, more out of relief than anything. Perhaps, we'll be okay.
"So, are you nervous?" Killian said as he settled next to her against the wall, both of them facing opposite of Gold's classroom door.
"I don't know. I'm not sure what to expect, really." Emma fidgeted with the edges of her project, "It's not necessarily the most traditional way to go about this project."
"Here's a hint with this class, Emma." Killian bent his head towards her, "It isn't about your skill with the program or how you got there. It's how you present it."
"What do you mean?" Emma kept her eyes trained on the door, focusing on what she was going to say during her presentation.
"I mean, as long as you're confident and your concept is there, then everything else just falls into place. It's an introductory class; hardly anyone is a professional designer at this level."
He did have a point. "But Gold—"
"Forget about him, Swan. He's a bloody git. Gold can…"
"Gold can what exactly, Mr. Jones." Emma and Killian jumped apart at the smooth voice interrupting their discussion. Killian coughed, as if to clear his voice, as Gold simply raised an eyebrow, opened the door to the classroom, and stepped inside.
Emma looked down at her hands that were nervously clutching her matboard. "Oh, god, I don't even know if what I'm going to present is strong enough."
"It is." She heard the smile on his lips.
Emma looked up to meet his blue eyes, calm like the ocean before a storm. "You think so?"
He nodded. "I've yet to see you fail, love." There was a beat before Killian pulled away from the wall and straightened up. "Now love, I think some gratitude is in order," He teased, tapping a finger against his lips.
Emma's mouth fell open slightly before reforming into a determined line, her eyes shone mischievously.
"You couldn't handle it." Emma smirked, subconsciously leaning forward, her gaze automatically locked on his lips.
Killian inclined his face closer to hers, and with a lowered voice said, "Perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it."
Emma wasn't sure what compelled her to do what she did next. Perhaps it was the nerves of having to present her project, or the overwhelming tension that was pulling them together, or maybe because there was some residual adrenaline from the lack of sleep.
With one hand, she grabbed the front of Killian's soft blue shirt and pulled him to her as his lips met hers. What was meant to be something short and passive soon turned heated and passionate. His hands found it's way around her waist and through her hair. His lips were surprisingly soft, but pleasantly insistent and demanding, stealing every breath from her lungs. Once they broke off for air, they held each other close for a few seconds before Emma reluctantly pushed him an arm's length away.
"Don't… follow me right away… wait five minutes or something." Emma breath came out in short pants, hoping she didn't look as wrecked as Killian did at the moment, cheeks flushed and eyes shining.
Emma reached up to give him another small kiss on the cheek, then quickly slipped inside the classroom, leaving Killian with an awestruck smile.
As Emma settled into her seat, she cracked a small smile as she thought about what she had done. As she brushed her fingers against her lips, she could still feel the roughness of Killian's scruff against them. A pleasant heat filled her cheeks as she thought about her impulsiveness. She couldn't find any reason why she had decided to kiss him other than she selfishly wanted to and she felt good.
The rest of her class started to filter in quickly after she settled in her seat. The classroom was actually set up as a computer lab. Four rows of seats with monitors, and at the end a whiteboard which was where Professor Gold normally lectured. The right side wall was blank and littered with thumbtacks where students could hang their projects as they presented them. Killian, as usual, came in at the very last minute, not looking like he just was snogged within an inch of his life moments before. He just caught her eye, winked, and settled in his spot near the front. Emma smiled to herself again, hoping no one else caught the exchange.
Gold liked to allow his students to present on a volunteer basis. Emma disliked going first, but she also did not enjoy the torment of going last. Still on a high from perhaps the lack of sleep, but as well as her kiss with Killian, Emma volunteered to go first before her professor even asked, surprising Gold.
As Emma made her way to the front, her nerves were there but they weren't as bad. There was a sort of freedom in presenting first. There were no expectations from the class this way, since there was no standard of how the presentations were going. She hung her project up on the board, and turned to face her audience. Before she began she looked out to her peers, suddenly jarred and hyper-aware of their stares and Gold's judgmental sneer. However, her eyes searched and as she met one pair of blue eyes that was accompanied with an encouraging nod, she felt the confidence to continue on.
"I didn't have the best childhood," Emma started. "But, there was always one constant in my life—my childhood blanket…"
Her project was a digital painting of a swan, but its tail of feathers morphed into a river of white, knitted blanket with her name embroidered on the corner. The river was meant to symbolize the instability of her childhood—the winding course she had to take upstream to get to where she was now. She chose to use a swan, despite it being the surname of a family that also left her, but because of its close proximity to water. She had always felt adrift, taking whatever waves of pain and hurt came her way but always making it through.
However, while the subject matter was melancholy, but it was cut with another emotion that wasn't initially part of her plan when she first started working on the project. It was… hopeful. The overall color scheme was light, bright, and warm. The execution was fantastical and soft. There was a type of ethereal glow to it, that only could've been achieved by digitally painting the scene. It was the mix of both digital and traditional that blended together in a beautiful harmony. Color had flooded back into Emma's life, and she finally realized why.
"Despite what I've been through, I'm proud of where I've come as a person." Emma looked up from her work, out to the crowded room, and in a clear and certain voice said, "I'm not nothing, and I was never nothing. I have a future, and it'll be how I make it."
She ended her explanation to a stunned silence, then an overwhelming applause. She even spotted Aurora wiping a tear away, clearly moved by her project. Emma smiled a confused smile, taking her project down and returning to her seat, but not before catching Killian smiling proudly at her.
It had been a week since she had presented her project and it was the day that Emma received the results. The benefit of having their final on an actual class day meant that during finals week, all you had to do was show up and pick up your project and get your final grade for the semester.
As soon as her class was released, Emma hurriedly rushed to the courtyard, searching for a familiar mop of untidy black hair. Freshly fallen snow blanketed the area, but the sun was shining as bright as ever. She spotted Killian sitting at one of the benches, engrossed in sketching something in his book.
Since her presentation, they slowly began hanging out more every day. Sometimes joining each other on breaks for company, or meeting each other at their respective workplaces, bringing the other food.
Emma Swan was happy. It even reflected in her paintings, which she picked back up with a renewed purpose. Her newfound contentment breathing new life into her work. She even enrolled into Professor Merlin's Digital Painting class in the Spring to further develop her skills with the medium.
It amazed her how easy it was to allow Killian into her life once she knew that was what she wanted, and he fit into it perfectly. However, it was as if what had happened that day outside of Gold's class, never happened. While they never while they never discussed their kiss outright, it was an unspoken point between them that they both wished for it to happen again. They just didn't know how to approach the other on the subject.
Emma, tired of waiting, decided to take on the situation headfirst (with a little prodding from Elsa).
"I'm here to ask you out… or something," Emma said in a rush, standing over him, fidgeting with her project behind her back.
The tip of the pencil Killian was holding snapped. He paused, staring at it for a second before looking up to meet the Emma's emerald stare. The blonde bit her lip, afraid she had misinterpreted something and the the overwhelming need to run started to pool somewhere near her sternum.
But a grin slowly formed on his lips. "As long as I get to plan the date." The corners of his eyes crinkled as he quirked his eyebrow with a smile that she couldn't help to return.
"I know how to plan a date, Jones." She scoffed as if offended, and shook her head.
"No, Swan. You know how to masterfully pull off a last-minute project; I know how to plan a date." He shook his head, chuckling.
Emma tilted her head with a smile. "Well, I don't dip into the paint on a first date, y'know."
"That's because you haven't been on one with me yet," Killian smirked as he leaned forward. "And we already know how great I am at mounting," he added with a wink. Emma flushed, but was pleasantly happy with herself that she didn't giggle out loud.
He returned back to reach into his bag for a pencil sharpener. "I'll pick you up at 8."
Emma nodded, adjusting Killian's gray scarf that she kept since he had placed it around her neck, before starting to walk away. To think when she first received the scarf, they were practically strangers, turned into unlikely partners, and now barreling towards something more.
What had started as a hard-fought war on technology, turned into a journey into uncovering truths about herself that she thought she wasn't prepared to face. Emma Swan's life before that fateful day in the computer lab was gray and unsure. Killian Jones had helped her see hues that she thought she had lost, as well as introducing new ones like the blush of his cheeks from laughing at a joke she made, or the vast sea blue of his eyes that she wanted to drown in.
"Oh, and Swan," Killian looked back up from his sketchbook, as Emma turned back to look at him. "Congrats on the A." Emma smiled widely with pride and nodded as she turned away, looking forward to their date as well as a bright and colorful future with Killian Jones.
A/N: Thank you all for reading this little fic of mine, your love and feedback has been amazing and I appreciate you all. Special thanks to Kaitlyn (SpartanGuard) for the encouragement and being my beta. Find me on tumblr: shipsxahoy