Even though I've watched this show for ages, I've only recently actually watched it (all again) properly and become obsessed. The title is from one of my favourite 3 Doors Down songs called Let Me Go. I love all their shit, but this one is insanely beautiful. This one is actually written a little bit differently from my others, so I hope it's okay!

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the title, only the story and any mistakes, which I'm sure there's lots of :(

How the hell did he get this messed up like this?

And over a girl.

A pretty, blonde haired, rich side of the town, smart mouthed, unforgettable girl.

Killian Jones growled under his breath, clenching his hand into a fist and lashing it forward to punch through the glass of his mirror. His lower lip was split, he could already tell that he was going to have a purple bruise around his eye in the morning, and now his hand was bleeding. He ignored the pain, flexing out his fingers before resting them on the rim of the basin, staring down into the porcelain white sink to where his blood was slowly creating trails.

They had been together six months.

Six months.

And that was all that it had taken for him to get this lost in is own head?

They had said right from the start; this was for fun. This wasn't serious. This was just sex. They had said it over and over again, and Killian had been nervous, because it was never just sex with girls. They got attached, and they got clingy, and then they got upset because it was just sex for him.

But then she left him.

Just like that.

The anger was bubbling up inside of him again and he regretted being sloppy and letting himself get kicked out the bar. He had hadn't been finished. He could've gone at least another two rounds with that asshole who kept bumping his elbow against him when he was trying to drink his whiskey.

Fuck it.

Fuck her.

Emma Swan felt as though she was drowning.

She was sitting there, out in the open, but on the inside she felt as though her lungs were filling with water and she was gasping for air.

How the hell had she let this happen to her?

She could hear her father talking, he sounded so proud, and for the first time since the funeral, he actually sounded happy. Undoubtedly, the happy probably had very little to do with her, and more to do with her twin brother, August Swan. He was sitting opposite her, giving her worried looks every couple of minutes, which she was trying to ignore.

The rebellious part of her life was over.

Painting—was over.

True friends—was over.

Killian—was over.

She needed to forget him.

She needed to stop drowning, because she was never going to be able to breathe as freely as she had when she was with him. She swallowed hard and looked down at the royal blue table cloth stretched out over the table. She had been to a hundred of these speeches in her life, but this was going to be the most important one. The one where her brother was taking over the company from her father. The company that owned half of the city.

This was her life.

This had always been her life.

She had been kidding herself by thinking she could ever escape it.

It had started the typical way.

Boy sees girl.

Girl sees boy.

Girl ignores boy until he literally makes an idiot of himself until she pays any attention to him.

Boy gets girl to go home with him.

Boy falls hopelessly in love.

Girl falls hopelessly in love.

Neither boy or girl will admit it, but they have fallen in love.

"Come on, love," Killian murmured, reaching forward and biting at the lobe of her ear. Emma sighed, her body writhing on top of his as his fingers buried themselves further in her. She was a complete and utter mess, her face sweaty and her hair was sticking to her cheeks and forehead. There was even a swipe of pink paint on her shoulder, adding to her mess, which he kissed lovingly. She looked gorgeous, and Killian chewed down on his lower lip to stop himself from saying what he was thinking.

There was an unspoken agreement between that they didn't talk about their feelings.

"Again, love," he whispered and she let out a moan of agreement, her fingers tangling themselves in his hair and pulling at it hard as her orgasm came crashing closer and closer to her. "Ye-es," he breathed, his fingers still working inside of her until she coating his hand, and dripping down his arm.

Boy couldn't girl out of his head.

But boy had lost girl.

Killian had always known that they were from different worlds. It hadn't been hard to spot right from the beginning. He owned a tattoo parlour, and was surrounded by rough people with body piercings who swore like sailors all day, every day. And he liked it. They were his people. There was no hidden agendas, or underlying causes behind what they did; everything was out in the open. He worked hard for what he had, he earned everything that he had today, and he still had to fight, sweat and blood, to keep everything he had.

Emma wouldn't know what that kind of struggle was if it hit her in the face with a frying pan.

But she knew another kind of struggle, that Killian had never been worried about.

Her family was the wealthiest in the city, likely the country. Everyone knew who they were, and everyone knew who she was. This meant every time she stepped out of her house and into the public, every eye was on her. Any mistake that she made was published in the trashy tabloids, and the outfits she wore were torn about and studied online. The pressure that came with being under that scrutiny was hard for a girl who just wanted to blend in and go to college and stumble through her classes and Friday nights. She was meant to be the next First Lady of the city, after her mother, but for someone who preferred a cheeseburger over a nicoise salad, she wasn't quite meeting her parents expectations.

They had crashed together in a club one night, in the dirty toilets out the back, and Killian couldn't stop himself from asking for her number. She had been hesitant at first, but she had never regretted it after.

But it was now six months later. Her father had been diagnosed with terminal cancer and everything had gone into fast forward. Her brother, August, was going to be taking over the company far ahead of planned, and Emma was moving up to a position of power. She had never wanted anything to do with the company, and she had been building up to tell her parents, but there was no way that she could do that now.

So she had cut her ties with Ruby Lucas, and Neal Cassidy, and most painfully, Killian.

And now she was doing what she had dreaded for the most part of her life.

She was wearing a pant suit, with pearls around her neck, and pale pink lip stick on her mouth, with her hair in a tight braid. She was standing next to her mother, who was exchanging small talk with a woman Emma had absolutely no interest in, but she was smiling and nodding along. The minute the luncheon was over, Emma was escaping to the bathroom, holding a hand to her throat and ripping at the necklace she was wearing. It broke, the pearls scattering across the ground, bouncing over the tiles and rolling across the bathroom floor.

In the limo back to their mansion, her mother was talking about tomorrow, and about the next day, and all these plans that were in front of them. There was a cake tasting at some cute little boutique that had just opened, and then they were asked to go to some historical library that was being re-opened.

She was stuck.

And she had no way out.

She had had a way out, and she had kicked him out of her life.

Killian was drunk.

Stone cold drunk.

It was actually pretty much how he had been living his life for the past month. Even at work, he was just on the verge of being tipsy, but he managed to keep his hand steady and his eyes focussed. In fact, he was pretty certain that if he wasn't drunk, then he wouldn't be able to concentrate. Because every time he thought about her with a sober mind, he couldn't drag his mind away from her.

"Okay, don't move," he said to her, his eyes intense. She rolled her eyes and looked like she was about to turn but he repeated himself, a bit more sharply this time. "Don't move!"

"Alright, Mr Control Freak," she rolled her eyes again. "Not moving." He gave a nod and picked up the camera he almost always carried with him. She teased him about it, saying that he looked more like a photographer than a tattooist, given he didn't have a single drop of ink on his body, but he treasured his camera as though it was his most prized possession.

"The light is perfect and your face is..." he smirked at her. "Is perfect." She snorted, but he had already taken a few snaps and he was glad he had them caught on tape. "You can move now," he told her and she laughed, reaching out and grabbing his shoulders, bringing him in for a kiss.

Killian reached out his finger to trail along the edge of the photo that he had clipped above his tattooing tools. Emma looked so beautiful, her face all lit up and her hair glowing around her face like a halo.

"Killian?" He could hear Ruby calling from out in the parlour but he ignored her. It was just past six at night now, and he knew that he didn't have any other customers. He actually thought that Ruby had gone home already, but clearly she hadn't. If he didn't pay any attention to her, he figured that she would leave, but then she was coming through the doorway in the corner of the room and her face was pale. "Killian, you have someone here to see you."

"I'm not taking any more customers tonight, Rubes," Killian sighed as he rubbed a hand over his face, looking down at the plastic cup that he was holding, with a couple fingers of bourbon inside.

"It's not a customer," Ruby murmured. "It's Emma."

She couldn't help it.

She had been away from him for a month, and a piece of her was dying and crumbling inside.

And it wasn't just being away from Killian, it was being away from the person that she was when she was with Killian. She was happy, and she was free, and she didn't need to hide who she really was. She laughed, and she painted, and she got blue and green smudges on her porcelain cheeks and through her hair.

The family business; it had always been August's dream, it had never been hers. For a long time when she was younger, she had tried to be the girl that her parents wanted. She had taken riding lessons, and she had worn dresses where the neckline inched toward her collarbone and the hem hung down next to her knees. It wasn't until she was about sixteen when she realized the hypocrisy of it all, and she had started rebelling. Or at least, rebelling in the eyes of her parents. Acting normal was more the what she thought of it.

She couldn't do it anymore, though. As much as she thought she could, she couldn't force herself back into the mould that her parents had tried to fit her into. She loved her father, and she thought that maybe she would be able to pretend until he was gone, as awful as that sounded, but she couldn't.

So Emma had gone to her father, who was now bedridden.

And he had told her to go.

To be happy.

To pull herself away from the company, and go back to those 'pretty pictures' she used to make.

For the first time since her father had been diagnosed with terminal cancer, with only a few months to go, she had broken down, dissolving into tears.

And then she had called up her driver and had given him directions to the downtown parlour that Killian owned. It was getting late, and she would be worried that he wasn't there, if he didn't live in a tiny apartment just above the building. Ruby gave her a look when she walked in the front door, pursing her lips together and looking her up and down. Emma thought to herself that maybe she should have changed out of the expensive grey skirt and jacket with the dark green, silk blouse.

"Hey, Ruby," Emma said, feeling a little nervous. Ruby was still watching her, but then a gentle smile spread across her face.

"How's your dad doing?" The girl asked. Her long dark hair was streaked with bright red and her lips were painted a similar colour. Despite the way she looked and dressed, tiny skirts and crop tops, she was a sweetheart, and she cared about her friends. Even the friends that cut her off because she didn't run in the same social circles.

And that was the difference between the life Emma was leading and the one that she wanted to lead.

Because the people that she had lived her whole life around were barely interested in what she had to say when they had known her since she was little, but the people that she had only become friends with in the past few months looked at her and actually cared about what her answer was.

"He's strong," Emma shrugged. "Stronger than any other man I know." Ruby nodded and then glanced to the side.

"Are you here to see him?" She asked quietly and Emma nodded. "I don't know how sober he is."

"That's okay," Emma said. "I just...I need to talk to him."

"Of course," Ruby nodded. She walked to the door, and Emma heard her talking to the person inside. She couldn't make out the words from Killian, but she could hear the low grumble of his voice and her whole body reacted to it. Her pulse quickened, her cheeks went pink, and her fingers started to tap erratically against her thigh. It felt like time had slowed right down as she waited for him. Ruby came back into the main part of the shop first, and gave her a brief smile, picking up her bag from behind the counter and walking out the front door without a word. Emma wondered for a moment if she was meant to follow after her, but then there was movement in the doorway and her eyes snapped back.

Killian.

"What are you doing here, love?" He asked in his Irish accent. She couldn't reply straight away, a catch in her throat. "Emma."

No one said her name the way he did.

She swallowed hard and looked down at her hands, and Killian took a few steps closer to her.

"Emma," he repeated.

"I'm going to paint," she blurted out. He blinked at her, his dark eyebrows pulling together as he looked over at her, as he was trying to put things together in his head. "I'm going to paint, and I'm going to move into a studio downtown that was being used for storage, and I'm never, ever going to wear and a pant suit again in my life." Killian let out a broken snort, but there was smile on his face and he took the last few steps before he was directly in front of her, and he cupped her face, drawing her in close to him. He didn't kiss that mouth he had been missing, he just let his eyes rest on hers for a long few beats.

"You're going to paint?" He asked her.

"I'm going to paint," she repeated, a nervous smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

"You're going to be with me," he concluded and this time, she gave him a full smile.

"I'm going to be with you," she confirmed and this time, he let his mouth claim hers.

Please let me know what you think :) Reviews make me insanely happy.