Crumbling Fortresses
A/N: Just a short one-shot that popped into my head after 1x7 (The Heart is a Lonely Hunter). I still can't believe Graham died... D:
There was a reason why Emma Swan never allowed herself anything more than one night stands.
Mary Margaret said it was because she had built walls. She was wrong.
Emma had built fortresses.
Love was a weakness. When you loved someone, you opened yourself to hurt and rejection and fear and doubt. You let someone close to you, and they rip out your heart.
Despite this, despite everything, she couldn't help being drawn towards Graham. She couldn't quite pin point what exactly she liked about him, but he was like an irresistible force of nature. Unstoppable.
She could pretend not to care all she wanted, pretend that she didn't feel anything, but Emma knew that everyone could see right through her.
Sometimes, it was hard to be alone. Behind all those cold brick walls, all Emma had was herself.
When he kissed her, Emma thought she had finally found happiness. For a fleeting moment, she could imagine the future. He had given her a chance to put down some roots, and those roots grew, flourished, strengthened. Storybrooke was her home now, as much as any other place had been. Probably more, now that she had come to think of it. She owed him, for giving her a job. She owed him, for caring. And she owed him, for breaking down those walls of hers.
Their faces mere inches away, Emma could see the world in his clear brown eyes. She was hurt, he was exhausted, but nothing else seemed to matter as they simultaneously leaned in, their mouths melding in a symphony of sweetness.
And then she watched as the light in those incandescent eyes slowly extinguished, watched as her first and last love faded from this world forever.