DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, nor do I own the story that this fic is based off of. I have taken the characters of Once Upon a Time and put them into the situations of the movie Love, Rosie. I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING BUT THE WORDS. Even some of the dialogue is taken from the film.

Ch. 1

So this was it then. This was what every moment in her entire life had led up to. Every almost kiss, every subtle hint. She had always dreamt of this best man speech, though she never imagined that she would be the one delivering it at his wedding. But why wouldn't she…she was his best friend. She had let him slip through her fingers yet again, and this time it was by such a slim margin that she was feeling true hatred for herself at that moment.

But let's go back to the beginning; back to where everything started and back to the events that brought about the immensely fucked up and complicated lives of Emma Swan and Killian Jones.

As it is fairly natural for girls and boys to make play and be friends at the young and tender age of five, nothing ever seemed astray or out of place. They passed notes in class. Their favorite game was spinning a globe and stopping it with a single finger. The places they planned to travel spanned from the Americas to Antarctica.

When they were alone, Killian would share his dreams, which tended to be bizarre and out of the ordinary.

"Emma," he would say to her, "you know those big boats? Like…pirate ships."

"Yeah."

"I dreamed I was the mast. That part with the sail on it. And it felt like I was flying."

Then he would hold out his hand and her fingers would lace through his.

With the distraction of his father's untimely death, Killian's mother was too busy to worry herself with the quaint friendships of his son and the young girl from across the way. Emma, as an orphan, had no one in her life who even cared enough to notice how as they grew older, they did not separate, as most boys and girls would; in fact, they only grew closer.

They lived through the days of primary school together and into the years of secondary school, hardly ever leaving the other's side. Though the both of them had girlfriends and boyfriends who came and went, they always were saving themselves for each other. The tragic part was that neither one knew it.

When Killian had his first girlfriend in their sixth year, Emma teased him about how they would hold hands in the hallway, though she secretly was developing a crush on him, which she would admit to no one. When Emma received her first real kiss from a boy in their eighth year, Killian made faces and gagging noises when she told him about it, but he had always hoped in the back of his mind that he would be her first real kiss.

But that just wasn't realistic.

Through secondary school, Killian prospered. He lived with his uncle. His mother had died shortly after the death of his father out of grief, and he was determined to live a life where he would thrive and know about how to heal people. There were many great medical programs in England, but his heart was set on Harvard. Emma on the other hand grown fond of the business of hotels. Her foster parents changed every few years, but they were all in the same vicinity of the city. None of them ever felt like home to her. So she found her own special place, an abandoned hotel on the outskirts of the city, a home of her own, where she could be free, away from the people whom she was forced to call her family. In it, she pretended to be a hostess or a manager or a maid. She dreamed to own her very own hotel, much like that one, one day.

But here, many years later, she stood, about to give a speech.

"I can truly say," she began with a voice that was trying not to sound too shaky, "that this is one of the happiest days of my life."

He looked at her with a smile, but little did he know that that was just another addition to the lie that she had been telling herself since they were teenagers; the lie that she didn't really love him.

It was their final year. Year thirteen, where everything ended and they could begin to plan their future. But most importantly, it was the year that Emma Swan turned eighteen.

She was accustomed to nights like this: partying and dancing and yelling at the top of her lungs once she'd had a couple drinks, though this time it was legal. The lights in the club were getting blurrier as she took shot after shot, dancing alongside Killian after each one.

The music blared as Emma bounced and screamed with excitement and enthusiasm, her once faint buzz having turned into full-fledged drunkenness.

"Are you having fun?" Killian yelled over the music. Even though she was centimetres away from his face, the words did not process. "You're pissed right now, aren't you?" He laughed.

Dragging her drunk figure over to the bar area, she continued to dance. It was getting hotter and stuffier and Emma was getting closer and closer to him. She was standing on a stool and Killian supported her weight so she wouldn't fall over.

Breath. Hot breath was the next thing he felt. She was closer to his face than she had ever been and he was not about to push her away.

Deep breath. Move in closer. Deep breath. Move in closer.

Noses brush and suddenly she is kissing him and it is tender and soft and he somehow had always known that this is what it would be like to kiss her: pure bliss.

Slip.

She was on the floor, passed out. The stool was toppled over on its side. Her night of partying was over.

"Oh hi Mrs. Nolan…I just want you to know that it is entirely my fault."

"Mhm how I would love to believe you but I happen to know how Emma is. You know if this is how you continue to carry on I'm not too sure how successful you'll be as a doctor."

Emma woke to the sounds of her most recent foster mother chatting it up with a voice she knew only too well to be that of Killian Jones. She was hungover and the light that was not streaming through her windows was blinding. The pain from the mats in her hair pulling at her scalp was nothing compared to the queasy feeling in her stomach.

Pulling the comforter around herself and hobbling out of her bedroom, she managed to stumble down onto the first landing of the stairs, where Killian and Mary Margaret Nolan, her foster mother (whom she had actually grown quite fond of in the past year living with her and her husband David), came into view. Killian was leaning against the bannister, somehow looking more put together than she did, though she didn't know how, given that she was fairly certain he had drunk as much as she had the previous night.

"Why is everybody shouting?" Emma mumbled, her eyes squinting to adjust to the sun.

"You go fix her," Mary Margaret told Killian, hitting him jokingly with the hand towel she held.

With a smirk, Killian turned and led Emma back up the stairs to her bedroom, where she didn't hesitate for a moment to fall right back into her bed.

"I am so utterly embarrassed about last night."

"No no, you really don't have to be," Killian said eagerly.

"I behaved so badly!"

Killian's smirked. "Yeah, but…bad can be good too."

Emma turned her head, still lying on her pillow, to face him. How could he say any of last night was good? All she could remember was passing out and then waking up in the hospital getting her stomach pumped.

"Good? It was awful. Ugh I feel sick even thinking about it."

Killian's smirk quickly turned to a frown, remembering their kiss. He thought that had been the start of something. Had he misinterpreted something? Had it been nothing more than the silly drunken actions of his best friend?

"Awful? Um…about which part exactly?" he inquired.

"All of it." She sat up quickly, making herself lightheaded and letting out a groan, before looking at him in the eyes and saying very sincerely, "It never happened, Killian, okay? You can't tell anyone."

Killian coughed. She really was embarrassed that she had kissed him. "Right."

There was an awkward silence, though it was quickly broken by Emma's brat of a younger brother, Nick, barging into her room and chanting, "Emma had her stomach pumped! Emma had her stomach pumped!"

With the screaming of a curse word or two and the throwing of a pillow, he left them in peace yet again.

"How did we get home from the hospital?" asked Emma.

"Uh…my uncle picked us up. They needed a parent's name and I couldn't exactly give them the name of your foster parents. Plus your foster mum thinks it's my fault anyway and I'm a "terrible influence" and blah blah blah –"

"Oh, well, you are," Emma teased.

"So now," Killian continued, "I have to spend two hours in the library every day for a fortnight."

"Nightmare," she quipped sarcastically.

"Well, it could be worse…"

Emma looked at him with a face of curiosity.

"Ruby Lucas has just got a part time job there," he hinted suggestively.

Pause.

"Yeah right."

"What?" Killian asked with a slightly offended tone.

"Ruby Lucas? Forget it. Even I want to sleep with her."

It was true. Any person with half a brain in their entire school was at least partially in love with Ruby Lucas. Her beauty outweighed the majority of the people in England and the boys fawning over her in their year were through the roof. If you lusted after Ruby Lucas, you were probably out of her league.

"For your information," Killian began to say, as if he was divulging something very sensitive and important, "she has been giving me the eye."

"Hmm. She's probably wondering why you haven't squeezed that zit on your forehead."

"Oh bugger off," he laughed.

"I could do it for you. Come here!"

"No! Get off me!"

Emma squealed as Killian tackled her back down onto her bed. It was just like they were kids again. No drama, no feelings. Just two best friends giving their all to the other.