Okay, this one got angst-fluffy because my muse was inspired after reading poetry!
These things happen and I do not control my muse, my muse controls me.
PS: Reviews are my drugs. Please be my dealer!


Lilac Wine


Chapter Seven


Killian had watched Emma retreat to her room before setting up the few tables in the restaurant required for breakfast and finally making it back to his own room to catch a few hours sleep before the sun came up. He knew he was probably going to be walking round like a zombie for most of the next day, but it was a price he was more than willing to pay for the perfect evening he'd spent with Emma.

When he finally collapsed into bed, he still had a smile on his face. He couldn't explain it, and he wasn't sure he'd even want to, but she was intoxicating. The walls he'd built around his heart four years before were beginning to waver; he could practically feel the foundations crumbling. Just being near her made him feel like maybe, just maybe, his heart might be starting to beat again.

It was a sensation he'd long since lost hope of ever feeling again, but there was something about Emma Swan, a broken soul hidden behind beautiful eyes and a smile that made his heart flutter, that made him want to believe in new beginnings.

He'd been a patchwork of darkness in the night sky that was missing its stars, and suddenly this woman, this supernova starlet, crashed into his orbit and scattered stardust everywhere, momentarily blinding him in a light that had long since been snuffed out in his world.

As he closed his eyes, for the very first time he saw a face that wasn't Milah's. And even though a momentary panic set in with that fact, the peace that followed was overwhelming. He saw Emma's golden curls, a set of twinkling green eyes filled with laughter.

He saw that smile of hers that lit up the entire room – and his entire world – when she laughed, with the adorable scrunch of her nose that accompanied it, and the fine laughter lines around her eyes. The melody of her laugh resounded in his mind and he was sure that no song ever composed could sound so good to his ears.

He realized, with only the smallest taste of bittersweet on his tongue, that Emma had walked into his life the exact same month of the year that Milah had. September.

So maybe Septembers could be a good thing again now, like they once had been.

He was alone in his room, yet he felt so infinitely close to her. This Swan girl would ruin him, he was sure, in every beautiful way possible. He'd known her for less than twenty-four hours, but he was already falling hard.


CS


Emma didn't sleep at all, no matter how much she tried. Neal's voice, his scathing words and vicious tone, kept playing on loop until she gave up and threw the covers off of her, stalking over to the balcony doors that opened out onto a small private deck overlooking the courtyard.

The sun had risen a little while earlier, but everything was so perfectly still that she could easily imagine someone had pressed pause on the world. And how she so wished they could.

She shivered as she stepped outside, the cool morning air chilling her to the bone with a pleasant numbing effect. She had a feeling that it was more to do with the lack of sleep and how emotionally drained she felt, rather than the fresh breeze ghosting over her skin.

She sat down wearily at the small glass table and stared vacantly out across the courtyard, simply allowing her mind to drift and focus on nothing in particular. She just wanted Neal out of her head, and knew that as soon as he was, the heaviness in her heart would lift.

The night before, sitting and talking all night with Killian, Emma had felt happier than she had in a long time. It wasn't anything she could put her finger on, but being with him felt so effortless. He made her laugh, and seemed to sense that her emotional baggage was possibly as heavy as his own. And that hadn't seemed to faze him in the slightest.

Not only that, but he treated her like an actual person, rather than some kind of living doll. She was inexplicably drawn to him, and she knew it was more than his dashing good looks that had her heart stuttering every time their eyes met. The flurry of butterflies taking flight in her stomach when they touched, no matter how innocent the intention, made shivers run the length of her body.

She'd been looking forward to seeing him at breakfast, but that was before Neal's phone-call. Now, all she wanted was to stay locked in her room, more afraid than ever that word of her location would get back to him. She knew her secret was safe with Mary Margaret and David, but she couldn't very well hide out in the English countryside forever.

Especially considering the fact that she knew her tattered personal life would be all over the front pages of every magazine in LA (and probably a lot of the British ones too) by mid-afternoon English time. Tears of frustration slid down her cheeks. She was angry that Neal could upset her so much even when she'd put over five thousand miles between them.

She wasn't sure how long she ended up sitting out on the deck, but after a while she heard a muffled knocking and realized it was coming from her door. As she hurried inside, she cast a quick glance at the digital clock on her bedside table. 9:30am. She'd been outside longer than she thought, but the chill on her skin had become somewhat comforting.

Pulling open the door, she wasn't all that surprised to see Killian smiling back at her. She hoped her eyes weren't too red, but perhaps she could simply blame it on allergies if he noticed.

"Morning, love. I figured after our late night, you'd maybe appreciate breakfast in your room?"

His smile was so warm that she could already feel the painful knot in her stomach loosening its grip and the icy chill on her bare skin thawing out. She forced a smile – something she was very good at after years of practice – and stepped back to allow him entry with the tray he was carrying.

"That's so nice of you, thank you. I'm pretty beat this morning."

She said, managing to keep her voice light as she followed him out to the deck where he set the tray down. He'd brought her a little bit of everything, and added a lilac flower in a milk cup as a sweet afterthought.

He turned to face her and his piercing gaze settled on her for a long moment. She shifted and chewed on her bottom lip, knowing he was reading her like an open book.

"Are you okay, Emma?" he asked quietly, "I mean, just tell me to bugger off if I'm overstepping but-"

"You're not. I'm…I'm not okay," she cut him off, surprising them both, "I got a call last night when I came to bed…from my boyfriend, who's also my manager…"

She took a deep breath, wondering how on earth she could explain to him what he was surely going to see all over magazines if he so much as stepped into a convenience store. She didn't want him to learn her secrets like that.

She caught the way his shoulders dropped ever so slightly at the mention of a boyfriend and he broke eye contact briefly. He seemed to quickly compose himself and school his face into a careful mask of detachment and mild concern.

"Is everything alright?"

He asked casually, but she could hear the slight strain in his voice. She knew she should have mentioned Neal and her complicated situation to him the night before, but she'd so desperately wanted to distance herself from the mess she'd left behind in LA, just for one night.

"It will be, I hope. I broke up with him. But he's not really taking it very well and I'm…well, I'm kinda worried about what he's gonna do. Only my sister and brother-in-law know where I am, but he has a lot of connections and I know I can't run forever."

She dropped wearily onto one of the chairs on the deck, running a hand through her tangled curls. She was dragging Killian into her mess, but she knew she had no other option. She didn't want him finding it all out from some ill-informed media story that filled in the blanks with whatever salacious rumors they could summon up.

She didn't want to analyze the fact that what he thought mattered to her, or why that was. She'd become very good at detaching herself from caring about people's opinions of her over the years, because everyone had one and you could never please them all, so she wasn't entirely sure why this almost-stranger's opinion mattered to much.

Killian leaned against the doorframe, his eyes never leaving her and his concern palpable. His heart had clenched painfully when she mentioned a boyfriend, and he was mentally kicking himself. Of course she had a boyfriend. She lived in Los Angeles, where being less than beautiful was the worst sin imaginable, and he was sure she'd probably had 'perfect' men lining up around the block for the chance to take her to dinner. He couldn't even imagine bad looking men existing in LA. Then again, she didn't seem the type to base a relationship solely off of looks.

But as she'd continued, the envy he'd felt toward the nameless man who had been lucky enough to call Emma his own disappeared when she quickly told him she'd ended it. The unwarranted relief that washed over him became laced with concern with her words and he felt the instinctive need to keep her safe.

"He wouldn't hurt you though, would he?" the worry lines on his face deepened further when she wavered, unsure, "You can stay here for as long as you need to, Emma. I'll do my very best to protect you in whatever way I can. It's unlikely that the media will find you here, but you tell me what I can do to help, and I'll do it."

Emma gave him a small smile of thanks, not knowing how to put into words how grateful she was to him for everything he'd already done. Simply making her laugh was something to thank him for, but here he was, willing to turn his life upside down for her at a moment's notice.

It surprised her too that she felt safer just knowing he was near. She had no idea how exactly he could protect her if things got messy, but there was no doubt in her mind that he would.

"I honestly don't know what he's capable of. The way he spoke to me last night…I've never heard him that angry before. He doesn't deal well with not being in control, especially when it comes to me, and I've just sat back and taken that bullshit for two years because I thought he loved me, and because I didn't know how I'd survive in LA without him," she let out a shaky sigh, "but this is my fault, for leaving the goddamn country on a whim instead of cooling down and talking it out like an adult."

She felt the familiar heaviness settling on her heart again. She'd been free of it for one evening, and she knew she was a fool to have ever hoped it could last. She stared down at her feet, wondering how the hell she could even begin to unravel the tangled mess she'd created the night she bought a plane ticket and disappeared to the opposite side of the world.

Killian stepped forward, lifting her chin with his fingers so that her eyes met his reluctantly, his thumb lightly touching the dimple in her chin. The way he looked at her, as though she made the stars shine and the birds sing, had her breath hitching in her throat and she wished she could find a way to tell him that she really didn't deserve a guy like him to be looking at her like that.

"None of this is your fault, love. If he didn't tell you every single day that he loved you, then he didn't deserve you. Not for a minute. If he didn't spend hours memorizing you with his fingertips, or making sure he'd kissed every inch of you, or marvelling at the fact that he was being allowed to touch heaven every time he held your hand, then you deserved better. A woman like you, Emma, should be treasured and told everyday that your eyes are the most beautiful shade of green, and that your laugh is better than the best song I've ever heard, and your smile…well, your smile looks really great on you and it's something I'd make you wear everyday if you were mine."

Emma could barely breathe, his words hanging as heavy as a confession between them. Her heart was pounding, deafening to her own ears, and her eyes were wide, locked onto his lips as he spoke and lingering there long after he'd fallen silent. The moment stretched out between them like an eternity frozen in a single breath.

She knew she was staring at him but she was paralyzed by the weight of the words ringing in her ears, her lips parted in shock and raw emotion coursing its way through every nerve in her body. She couldn't drag her gaze away from his, until he suddenly stepped back, his delicate touch against the dimple on her chin suddenly gone.

Something inside Killian had broken when she'd blamed herself for the emotional abuse that had apparently become the foundation of her relationship with her manager-boyfriend. He was clearly in a position of power and had systematically made her believe that she couldn't make it without him. Perhaps he'd even threatened her with how difficult he could make things if he really did have as many connections as she'd mentioned earlier. But just the fact that this 'man' had broken her down enough for her to even consider blaming herself for her broken heart and tattered relationship had words pouring from his mouth before he'd really thought them through.

As silence had wrapped itself around them, shock paralyzing them both, his blood ran cold. Why had he told her all those things? He'd practically told her he was in love with her, and they'd barely known each other a day. He hadn't even had time to process the idea that he might actually be falling for her, slowly and then all at once, before he'd told her everything.

He'd given her every poetic notion that had crossed his mind the night before as he lay in bed, his head full of the nuances of her accent, and the way she'd snorted in such an endearingly unladylike manner when he'd made her laugh so hard she had tears in her eyes, and the way she occasionally touched the ring on a chain round her neck.

He hadn't even realized his feelings for her already ran so deep until the words had tumbled from his lips.

He felt his face crumble as he stepped back, devastated that he may have blown it just as his heart was learning how to beat again thanks to her…and just as she was beginning to lean into his touch.

He wanted to find her gaze again, to make sure it was simply shock and not horror or fear that he saw in her eyes, and to give her a chance to respond, but he was turning and making for the door before he fucked things up any further.

She didn't follow him.

When she finally remembered how to breathe again, the air rushed into her lungs with a gasp but he was long gone. Processing what he'd said had her mind in overdrive, but her gaze was still fixed to where she'd watched him walk out.

And just like that, a complicated situation had spun so far out of control that it left her breathless. And wasn't that just so typical.