5
They kept running into the other at Granny's, and sometimes in the street. Those encounters made them happy, but Emma was still reluctant. Killian wanted to seek her, t follow her every time she left the diner, but she was a person with some kind of walls protecting herself, and he couldn't just break those without warning and intruding in her life like that. Not if he wanted to make it right and her to see him as a good man. It was a long process; one he knew too well.
He dreamt of dates with her, more shared kisses, to hold her hand, to have her body pressed against his in the warmth of a bed, but he was content with what they had. Breakfasts at Granny's. Just two friends who spent half an hour a day together. Since that day driving away of Storybrooke, they hadn't kiss again. Emma felt more comfortable like that and he didn't push. Sometimes she was calmer, happier, it was easier to be with her. She even made some small talk, laughed at his jokes or made ones herself. But other days they just stood quiet. Killian learnt to read her the minute she walked into Granny's, and he knew what kind of morning it would be.
She longed for something more, something she couldn't afford to have. She wanted him in her life, but she couldn't do that, she couldn't endanger him for selfish reasons. She knew that kissing him was a mistake, which made them fall again into that routine of meeting every day, but those kisses felt good in the moment, and she didn't regret them. She should tell him to stay away from her again, it would be easier that way, but she was just too weak. She was tired of being strong, of hiding her truth to the world, she wanted that to end, but she couldn't do anything. And she knew she was being selfish for giving him hope that maybe someday he could have her, but he was the only person that kept her sane, that kept her from doing something she might regret all those nights. And she didn't want him out of her life, despite all her efforts to do so.
Suddenly, some weeks later, her mother died, and she went downhill. Everything happened so fast, she thought it all happened at the same time. One time she was alright, the next she was dead. Almost everybody in town came to see her, but she didn't let anyone in. Killian also knocked at her door, but she didn't open. She couldn't. The next day there was a funeral and they buried her. He was also there, but she didn't want to talk to him. She felt this rage burning her from the inside. Her mother was supposed to live, Emma was there to make her better, she shouldn't have died. Emma hated her, hated the doctors, people in town who would come to her house, who left food at her doorsteps. She hated Killian. It was his fault. If it weren't for him, she would have spent more time with her mother, she could have cured her, but he distracted her. She didn't want to see him ever again. But there he was, knocking at her door day after day, asking if she needed anything, even if she didn't answer. But he knew she was there, listening.
She looked like a mess; her house looked like a mess. In a moment of rage, she had destroyed everything. There was glass on the floor, her couch was destroyed from the inside out, like that deer they found in the woods. The kitchen table was nothing more than splinters. Her fridge was empty, but she wasn't hungry. Her clothes were torn apart. She didn't care.
In the daylight, it all seemed better, the sun, or the birds chirping or the wind, she didn't know what, but all that helped her to feel better; it was at night when she felt everything was falling down and it was when she always broke.
The days were moody now, the always-there-clouds threatened Storybrooke with an electric storm, but it never came. It was waiting for something; Killian was sure of that, as if something huge and important had to happen before the black clouds released their content. That odd coldness persisted too. He was always cold, no matter how warm he took his showers, even under the water he was cold. That characteristic warmth was fading out, same as Emma. She'd been locked in her house since the funeral, but when he went to her house, he'd been able to see her through the window, and she didn't look good. Every time he went to her house, there was a darkness surrounding it, as if it were inside one of those dark clouds up in the sky.
He was worried, it couldn't do her any good being all day in that empty house, driving insane every passing hour. She needed light, she needed people, she needed some interaction. And he needed her, or at least to know that she was alright.
In his way to her house that afternoon, he stopped by Granny's and bought a grilled cheese sandwich and onion rings. He knew it was Emma's favorite. He'd noticed that the food the neighbors had left in her porch was untouched. She was too stubborn and hurt to accept help, but she needed to eat. That night he wasn't leaving until he made sure she had eaten something, she didn't need to talk to him if she didn't want to, but Emma had to take care of herself. She couldn't starve to death, not under his watch.
With every step that lead him towards her house he felt colder. He shivered. Just like that night months ago, he felt something was about to happen. He rushed to her house. He was almost there when he saw her leaving, running to the forest as if she was being chased. He dropped the bags and started running after her. Why was she running to the forest? What was there? Was she in danger?
The leaves where scratching his face. She's abandoned the path and was going through the forest. He feared they would get lost. Did she know where they were heading? Suddenly, she stopped running. She was in the middle of a clearing, the light illuminated her, and in that moment, she looked like a mystic creature of the forest. Her blonde hair seemed silver under the light, cascading down her thin figure. He looked up to the sky: full moon. It was when he looked down back to her when he saw it. Her body was shaking, but at the same time was in tension. She growled and looked up to the moon.
"Emma!" He screamed, afraid. What was happening?
When she heard her name being called, she turned around, a terrified expression when she saw him. He saw the fear in her eyes, but the other thing he saw there petrified him. Her eyes were greener than usual, a tint of yellow, and they were... sparkling? Before he could think anything else, Emma disappeared. She fell to the ground. And all of a sudden, a big, beautiful wolf stood in its four legs. The creature was majestic, with blonde, almost white, fur. It looked him in the eye, emerald green eyes that he knew so well and were terrified. He understood.
"EMMA!" He yelled, walking towards it -her-. Which was a mistake, because she turned around and run away "No, Emma, wait" but he was left alone in the dark. He heard a howl in the distance, a sad sound that broke his heart into pieces. Now everything made sense. Why she was always alone, her reluctance with him, why she asked him to stay away, that secret she feared, why she was that morning in the forest, the real reason why she was afraid when he found the deer. It was all her. She was a werewolf.
As many of you guessed, she is a werewolf hahahaha.
Someone pointed out that she couldn't be a werewolf and the one that killed the deer because her t-shirt wasn't blood-stained. That's because when she is werewolf her clothes kind of dissapear and she is just a wolf with fur. When she is human, her clothes are torn apart and dirty because the transformation process and because she runs though the forest and the branches tear her clothes.
Anyway, I'm sorry for not updating in ages, I'm a horrible person. I have one chapter left (and maybe I'll write a prologue I'm not sure yet) and then this little story will be over. I know it's so random, probably some things don't even make sense lol, but I still don't know how this idea got into my head haha.