Day 1. Holding hands

There's a quiet huff of surprise coming from him as she lets her fingers intertwine with his, but she decides to ignore it even as her heart pounds harder and harder against her chest to the point where she is sure it will jump out.

Truth be told, she is not the hand holding type, and she always thought that couples did it to let the rest of the world know that they were together, and why would that even be necessary? Isn't it enough for just the two of them to know, she would think when she passed them on the streets of Boston, New York or wherever the hell she was that month.

But then there he is, and she's feeling things she doesn't ever remember feeling before – a constant movement of something in her stomach, a prickling sensation against her skin when he looks at her, an itch on the tips of her fingers with a need to touch, to be close, to feel.

This morning she had woken up to find the itch had gone. Feeling lighter in a way she hadn't done in forever, she had looked down and seen their joined hands resting lightly just below her navel; she had taken a deep breath, relief over something she hadn't known was troubling her washing through her.

So here she is, walking towards Granny's, Killian right next to her with his hand safely zigzagged around hers and she finally understands why people do it, how it's not a way to parade for the world but rather a way to make it easier to breathe - that's how it works for Emma anyway. A non-existing pain diminishing, an empty hole in her chest filling, contentment and calmness she wouldn't be able to explain in words. Everything becomes easier.

She can sense the huge grin he's giving her without looking at him.

"Shut up," she says, trying to frown as her lips turn upwards against her will.

(Not against any particular strong will, though).

"What?" he asks, and she looks at him; he's giving her his best innocent puppy look. "I'm allowed to be happy, aren't I?"

"You're not happy, you're grinning at me."

He shrugs, and their joined hands follow up and then down again softly, but neither of them lets go, only clings a bit harder. "I can do both."

The way he says it is so simple, telling her that, yes, he's happy, and she smiles at him.

"I can do both, too," she says with a squeeze of her hand.

He looks at her in the way that makes her pulse go up way more than it should, before squeezing back and pushing the door to Granny's open with his side. "Good."