Chapter Text
Ugh, here we go
Emma reluctantly walks towards the commons area of Storybrooke University. She drags her feet as subtly as she can, not wanting to gain attention for, well, anything really, but especially not for her lack of interest in the numerous social groups and clubs whose sign-up tables are spread across the outdoor area. Tables are covered in brochures and flyers, pencils and buttons for those who sign-up. The tables are attended to by two to four individuals each, most of them looking like peppy game show contestants. Each table has a canopy hanging over it, making it look like a college farmer’s market or art festival. Except not fun.
She wishes she could just go around the monstrosity of socialization but, alas, her class is in the building right on the other side of the event and going around would just make her late.
“Deep breaths,” she sighs, hiking up her backpack straps to sit more squarely on her shoulders.
She treks across the cobblestone, trying to tune out any and all conversations that might be pointed toward getting her to stop and consider what they have to offer. Not even the history club could do that and she is a history major for Christ’s sake. Emma walks past the sorority table, the language club tables and the fraternity tables, her eyes down and her hands in fists. She is almost home free. She strides through a little corridor made by the final two booths, ready to let herself relax and breathe normally.
“Oi, girlie, wanna make a difference?” rumbles a loud, definitively male voice.
Emma walks a couple more steps before she looks back over her shoulder, just to make sure the voice wasn’t meant for her.
No one’s gonna call me “girlie.”
But apparently it was meant for her as two boys and a girl behind a table in the direction the voice came from are looking right at her. One of the boys, the blonde one, looks shocked. His eyes slightly wide and his mouth open. The other boy, the one with inky black hair, is looking her straight in the eye, his eyes hard. His mouth tilted in a smirk, giving his face the look of a challenge he is throwing at her, daring her to turn down. The girl looks simply exasperated, an annoyed look crossing her face as she turns and shakes her head at them.
Emma looks over the scene, her eyes moving to the pathetic excuse for a sign that is hanging over their booth with the words “Take Action” written simply in what looks like black sharpie. She looks back to the smirking boy who she is sure is the one who yelled at her.
“What did you say to me?” she asks, coldly.
His smirk turns into a full-blown smile, as he crosses his arms across his chest and stands a bit straighter.
Yeah, you better get ready for what I am about to spew at you, asshole.
“You want to join Students for Activism, lass?” he questions, sweeping his hand above the pamphlets spread across the table.
Emma steps closer to the table and crosses her arms, mimicking his posture.
“Don’t call me girlie and maybe I’ll think about it,” she fires back.
She has no real intention of joining. As if.
Impossibly, his smile grows. He unfolds his arms and braces himself on the table.
“Apologies,” he states, looking anything but.
Emma takes the final steps up to the table, ready to give him a piece of her mind, being late for class a trivial consequence at this point.
“Do you have any interest in activism or helping the community?” a lighter, sweeter voice pipes in.
Emma pulls her gaze away from the irritating boy to the girl she noticed before. She is blonde, her hair in a long braid over one shoulder, and has a slight smile gracing her face. Emma relaxes her stance and takes a breath, not wanting to rage at this girl when she is just doing what she has to for a group she’s in.
“Um…yeah. I have thought about protesting and activism before, seen it on TV, but I’ve never done any of that before,” she mutters, motioning her hand toward the pamphlets, feeling self-conscious now as the three behind the table all focus on her.
The girls smile grows.
“Yeah, I was the same way. It can be difficult to know where to start but this group can be a good place to see if you like it, see if you really want to get into it.”
Emma nods, feeling the first stirrings of interest. She might want to sign up but she is not sure if she wants to commit. She likes her Netflix and her free time.
“I’m Elsa, by the way,” the girl greets, putting out her hand for Emma to shake.
Emma shakes her hand and says her name in return.
“Pretty name,” the dark-haired boy interrupts.
Emma glares at him, expecting to see another smirk or some form of sarcasm on his face. She is met with neither. A look of pure sincerity is what she sees. His clear blue eyes shine with some feeling Emma is not ready to recognize, while his lips quirk up in a little smile, his teeth showing just a fraction as he bites his lip. Emma finds the sincerity harder to take from him. Her face begins to feel heated.
“Thanks,” she mumbles, her voice just above the volume of a whisper.
“Aye,” he replies almost as softly.
“I’m David,” interrupts the blonde boy, the normal volume of his voice sounding much louder after the quietness of the words before.
He holds his hand straight out to her. She looks at it, a little surprised at the abruptness to which he put himself into the conversation. A moment passes before she takes his hand and shakes it as well.
“Nice to meet you,” she says, formally.
“Yeah, you too.”
As Emma lets go of his hand, her eyes shift back to the only person’s name she doesn’t know…yet.
She takes her turn at being mischievous, a smirk gracing her lips as she straightens her spine.
“So, do you have a name, or should I just internally think of you as “that douchebag guy” and call “hey you” when I want your attention.”
The boy’s face lights up, his smile growing wide once again.
Emma goes back over what came out of her mouth and sees her mistake immediately. She opens her mouth to refute anything he is about to say but he beats her to it.
“Planning on thinking about me then?”
“No-,” Emma tries to get in but he just keeps going.
“And looking for my attentions too? Wow,” he finishes, his face filled with glee.
Emma lets out a huff, her right hand balling up into a fist.
“You’re an idiot. You know that’s not what I meant!”
His smile shrinks minimally but is no less irritating to Emma.
“Killian”
Emma’s eyebrows shoot up as she looks at him blankly, not understanding.
“What?” she asks.
He continues to smile.
Bastard.
“My name, its Killian.”
Comprehension alights Emma’s face.
“Oh. Okay.”
Her face begins to heat up for the second time in too few minutes.
“Hi,” she stutters, waving awkwardly to Killian but unable to look him in the eye.
“Hi, Emma,” he replies, his voice seeming deeper as he says her name.
As she feels her face return to its normal hue and temperature, she looks back up at Killian, makes eye contact, and lets a small smile come across her face, trying to diffuse how mortifying she is finding this situation. He reciprocates with his own smile, making a bit of her anxiety fly away.
“What do you think?” Elsa’s voice cuts in. “Would you want to join Students for Activism? You can take some pamphlets and get back to us later if you want to join. No pressure,” she finishes, ending her selling pitch with a little laugh.
Emma looks over the different brochures, each one on a different topic to protest about or that they want to draw attention to. It’s everything she has ever wanted to be involved with. Homelessness is one of the pamphlets headings and, though Emma has never been homeless, she has met enough kids in the foster system who have been. She has heard the stories in group homes and has had enough foster parents threaten to throw her out onto the streets. It is something she has cared about for a long time, even after Ingrid adopted her when she was sixteen.
It is something she thought about when she was worried Ingrid would throw her out when she found out she was pregnant. After Neal left town, Emma had to deal with the consequences of both their actions and she figured an unplanned pregnancy at sixteen would be last straw when it came to Ingrid’s love.
She had been wrong, of course, and when she finally told Ingrid the truth, Ingrid simply hugged her and told her that they would deal with it together. And they did. But Emma does her best not to think about it. She made her decision that she couldn’t be a mother at sixteen and she is still confident in that decision but the past doesn’t always like to stay there.
Emma knows that better than most.
She tries to keep any negative thoughts she might have about her choice to end her pregnancy out of her mind.
Some days she is better at it than others.
Emma moves the tips of her fingers over the edge of the “feminism” pamphlet, debating with herself on whether she is ready for her life to change. She knows she will not get into this club half-heartedly, she will be all in. She moves her gaze back to the three people in front of her.
David seems nice. Not threatening, probably funny. He makes her feel at ease.
Elsa is clearly nice and friendly, even to her, who came up to the table with guns blazing.
And that brings her gaze to Killian, the reason she is standing here at all. She is unsure about him but if this interaction has taught her anything, it is that he will definitely make the experience interesting, and he’s certainly someone she can throw her sarcasm at.
A lot of people find her wit off-putting but, if the way he smiled at her is any indication, he won’t be one of those people.
Having someone that she won’t have to keep her sassiness in around might be nice, fun even.
But the thing that really makes the decision for her is the possibility of becoming friends with these people and maybe some of the others in their group.
Emma doesn’t have any real friends at school. She has people she talks to, people she gets along with in class, at least enough to partner up for activities or just to fill the silence in the time before class starts. But she doesn’t have any real friends. She doesn’t have friends she can hang out with outside of school or text funny or political things to or ones who actually care how she is. She doesn’t have any friends that she feels safe enough with to really them let get to know her, all of her.
As Emma picks up one of each of the pamphlets, she moves to stand in front of Elsa.
“I don’t need to think about it. I want to join,” she states confidently.
As she picks up a pen to sign her name on the sign-up sheet, Emma can see out of the corner of her eye a smile cross Killian’s face. He tilts his head down trying to hide his smile from her view.
How could a guy who just yelled at me from across the commons have a shy side?
She smiles as she looks up from the sheet, and thanks them all as she files the pamphlets away in her book bag. She turns towards her original destination and checks her phone for the time, immediately going into speed-walking-mode when she sees she is already five minutes late for class.