Sunday

She wanted to let go, she honestly did. As she met him in line as per usual, as they laughed, talked, chatted, mocked each other, pushed each other around like two kids on the playground who were too afraid to admit that they liked each other, she thought, I could do it. I could let go.

If she just leaned a little forward, she could accidentally on purpose land her lips atop of his. He'd be surprised at first, sure, but she knew he'd eagerly respond. He'd wrap his arms around her, her hands would entangle in his hair, and they'd just lose themselves to each other. They'd forget their own names, forget where they were, forget everything.

Eventually she'd pull away, and he'd pout all cute and adorable, like a puppy. She'd blush, and he'd gently tease her as they got their coffee and left. They'd go and see one of the movies they both talked about wanting to watch, but probably be too distracted with each other to even pay attention to the movie.

One day they'd have a fake fight at Starbucks, similar to the actual one they'd had when he'd insisted on getting the scone. And then afterwards they'd fall to the ground with laughter, clutching their stomachs as tears streamed down their faces at everyone's hilarious reactions.

She wouldn't have to spend birthdays alone anymore. Wouldn't have to buy such a pathetic amount of food at the grocery store each week. Her bed wouldn't be cold and empty as she got into it each night. She wouldn't have to pile pillows on either side of her, and there would be another toothbrush next to hers by the sink. She'd actually have someone to exchange gifts with for Christmas, and she'd come home to someone.

Home. Her apartment wouldn't just be a dwelling, a house, but a home.

Maybe they'd get into a fight over something big, or maybe something stupid. She wouldn't cry, of course. She rarely, if ever, cried. But she'd smash things and sulk, snapping at people. She'd curse him and ache for him all at the same time. And eventually they'd make up. There would be shouting, horrible yelling, but in the end they'd both apologize.

And if things turned out all right, if she didn't drive him away with her commitment issues and mile high walls, perhaps her silly childhood dreams of getting married would come true. She'd thought they would with Neal, but look at how well that had turned out. Killian was different, though. She knew he wouldn't abandon her like that.

Above all, she'd be happy. She'd finally be happy.

But these were all just dreams, because she couldn't let go.

"Swan?"

Emma blinked. He was waving his hand in front of her face. "Yeah?"

"You should drink up, it looks like you dozed off for a minute there."

"Oh," she forced a laugh and took a large sip. "yeah I got back pretty late last night. You know how work is. Still haven't caught that bastard."

"Aye, unfortunately I do and I'm sorry." He responded. "And speaking of, as much as I would like to stay here, I should really be going. I need to cover somebody's shifts today."

"Fun."

"Isn't it? Enjoy your Sunday, love, and I hope it's better than mine."

As Emma watched him walk away, waving over his shoulder, she had the fleeting feeling that she was watching her own dreams evaporate into thin air.

Author's note: Next ch is the last, and the most important. Anyone who correctly guesses what happens will win a batch of cookies.