It wasn't as though Emma was particularly happy in her relationship. In fact, she hadn't been for quite some time. But, it was comfortable. The Friday nights spent at his place, the Sunday mornings at wherever she was currently staying – if her foster parents allowed visitors, that was; the texts, the dinner dates and the movies. The times she'd get tipsy enough to allow him to touch her. They had fallen into a comfortable routine and even though Emma knew that she was stuck in a rut, she didn't want to ruin the normalcy. It was so hard for her to maintain any type of normalcy. More or less though, he was more like a best friend.
The problem was, she kept bouncing from foster home to foster home again and again, and it was hard enough to keep any type of friendships for long periods of time, never mind a boyfriend.
But even though she secretly wanted out of the entire setup, she still hadn't been expecting the text that came to her phone right in the middle of her first day of calculus class, although it was nearly expected.
Neal: I'm sorry, Em. But I can't do this anymore.
It was her first day of senior year at Storybrooke High School, along with her first class of the day. A brand new school. She didn't need more stress.
Emma was so caught up in staring down at the phone that lay flat on her desk while tears pricked her eyes, that she didn't notice the girl who slid into the seat beside her, or the fact that she was approached by her teacher shortly after.
"And why are you on your phone during my class, Miss…?"
Emma's gaze instantly snapped up towards the stern-faced conservative dress-clad woman that was her teacher, searching for a proper answer. "Swan. Emma Swan," She answered automatically, used to no one knowing her name, since she was always in a new place. She quickly snatched her phone off of her desk and stuffed it into the pocket of her jeans. "Uh, I uh – "
"I apologize, Miss Ghorm, it's entirely my fault. I asked her to check the time for me," The girl beside her piped in, an innocent yet somehow superior smile gracing plump lips as she gazed up at the annoyed man who now had his arms firmly crossed over his chest.
Emma's bright eyes quickly shot to the girl beside her, the beginning of her rambling having been cut short by the sound of the raspy voice making up an excuse for her.
The girl's dark eyes shone with mischief; her attire was more appropriate for a business meeting rather than a high school class, what with her tight white blouse and heeled boots.
Emma quickly glanced down at her own appearance; a faux red leather jacket hung loosely around her frame, covering a plain white t-shirt. Her jeans were tastefully ripped and her combat boots were scuffed and worn.
The two were obviously polar opposites.
Emma couldn't help but recognize that she was beautiful.
Miss Ghorm narrowed brown eyes. "Do tell why you couldn't have simply looked at the clock in lieu of disturbing the class."
By then, her peers had fallen silent. All eyes were on her, Emma and their teacher.
Slowly and somehow gracefully, she gestured over her shoulder, in the direction of the clock that hung highly on the white wall of the classroom. "I attempted that prior to asking," She replied, voice even and polite. "And though I still don't know the time, I'm assuming it isn't quarter until seven."
Sure enough, all heads except the dark haired girl's, turned towards the clock, which clearly had it's small, unmoving hand directed to the large, black 6 while its bigger hand settled, equally as unmoving, on the 9. The battery had died.
Whether Miss Ghorm decided to give up the losing battle or whether she actually believed the entirety of the lie, Emma wasn't sure. Either way, however, she relented.
"I would appreciate it if you would both refrain from disrupting my lesson from now on. And try not to make being late a habit, Miss Mills." With that, their teacher promptly turned on her heel and approached the white board, continuing to speak about the quadratic formula, or something of the sort.
Discreetly, Emma spared her savior a glance, mouthing a silent "thank you," the tears having vanished from her eyes by that point, always a master at hiding her emotions. In response, she received a single nod of the head, and that was the end of the first bit of communication the two shared. But, it wouldn't be the last.
Emma wondered why the hell a complete stranger would come to her rescue when people she'd known for years never would. Had she seen her on the brink of tears? Or maybe the brunette just disliked their teacher. Either way, she was thankful and intrigued.
…
"Wait!" Emma called after the brunette that quickly exited the classroom once the bell rang, books clutched close to her chest.
On her heel, the girl with the dark, hypnotic eyes spun to face the blonde, a few feet from the classroom they'd previously been in. "May I help you, Miss Swan?" A perfectly manicured brow arched expectantly, her words clearly mimicking those of their teacher's, who was stubborn to refer to them without their formal title.
"I…never got your name. Your first name," She lamely replied, messing with the spiral of the lone notebook she carried.
Clearly amused, the brunette's brow remained perked. "Regina," She replied after a pause. "Was that all?"
"Nice to meet you Regina," Emma replied with a wide smile, which was returned with an unimpressed glance. Clearing her throat, her upper teeth skimmed her lower lip. "But, uh, no actually." She hesitated before digging through her pocket, producing a crinkled piece of paper. "Do you know where room…" Her words trailed off as green eyes scanned the paper in her grip while the girl before her impatiently tapped the toe of her boot against the tiled ground.
After a long moment, Regina had enough and reached out, snatching the schedule while rolling her eyes and quickly locating the room that Emma would be heading off to next. "Room 202," She paused, smirking as she read the abbreviated class title. "Home Economics. I'm sure you'll have fun with that." Turning back around, she gestured to Emma. "Come, I'll walk you there. My next class is just across the hall from yours."
With that, Regina began walking down the corridor, leaving no choice but for Emma to follow her.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Finally came Emma's delayed reaction, lips forming a pout as she scurried to catch up with the brisk pace of Regina Mills.
"To what are you referring?" Regina questioned in return, slowing down slightly in order to easily fall into step beside the blonde.
"That I'll have fun," Emma clarified, brow furrowing. "Is the teacher some psycho or something?"
A short chuckle breezed by Regina's lips as she shook her head. "No, Emma. But by the appearance of those jeans, it doesn't seem as though you spend much time in front of a sewing machine."
"Hey!" Emma automatically protested, free hand reaching down to defensively brush her fingertips over the holes in her jeans. "I bought these like this," She added in a mumble as the pair maneuvered through the various other teenagers trying to get to class on time. Her hand then touched one of the smaller holes, one by her right hip. That particular hole, she'd gotten by jumping a fence after running away from her last foster home. "Mostly, anyway."
"Yes, well," Came Regina's curt response, leaving it at that as they halted in front of a closed door that was decorated with food items cut from construction paper. "Here we are," She then pointedly glanced toward the door, before looking back to Emma.
Reaching out the hand that grasped Emma's schedule for her to take, the blonde met her halfway but the moment their fingertips brushed, an electric shock sparked off between their hands and if Emma didn't know any better, she would've said that the spark was purple. This caused Regina to jerk her hand back, as though she'd been burned.
It didn't faze Emma, however, and she carried on as if she didn't notice anything peculiar – which, she didn't.
"Thank you for – " She began, only to cut off her own gratitude as Regina abruptly turned from her and within three long strides, was in the classroom across the hall. "… Everything," Emma quietly finished to herself, slowly drawing her hand back to hand by her side.
Confused, the blonde stood there for a moment, staring at the door Regina had disappeared behind. "Weird…" She quietly mumbled to herself. There was so much she wanted to ask the dark haired girl, and some things she wondered, but had too much pride to ask – like whether or not Regina had seen her nearly cry.
All of her thoughts easily slipped from Neal to Regina.
But before Emma could sink too deeply into thought just outside the door to her class, the bell rang, causing her to quickly turn and walk into her own classroom, not wanting to her into further on her very first day at Storybrooke High.
A/N: This may be my first multi-chapter SQ fic. If you guys like it, I'll definitely continue.