[Her smile might say more than anything that reaches his ears, because she doesn't know how to give August the appropriate amount of credit in anything she tells him. She has had worse, that's true, but Emma doesn't remember having better. The last time she gave a damn about a guy she was seventeen years old and thoroughly inexperienced. It's different now, in a small bed instead of a small car, with someone who came to find her rather than leaving her behind.
At least she tells herself it is.
The idea of August riding out of town has crossed her mind plenty of times. It's what makes her want to do the leaving before he has a chance to; so it can be her choice this time instead of his. Emma is keenly aware that he's a free spirit, and she's not trying to hold him down as much as she'd like to hold him close. This feels good, being with him, and while she'll argue that it's just to get away from being further scarred by Mary Margaret and David, her reasons for sticking around tonight have nothing to do with them.
She wants August. She wants him like this, and she wants him to stay. She wants him in Henry's life and in hers. But that's another thing Emma doesn't tell him, even as her eyes hold steady on him. She tucks her arm under a pillow and sighs, tired with a mind that's set on racing instead of sleeping. Every muscle in her body is exhausted, and she can all but feel the ache in her bones after that.
It pales in comparison to that flutter in her chest, the long-forgotten excitement of unwinding with someone she cares about. So she can't help it, she can't stop herself, she doesn't even try this time -]
Have you decided how long you're staying in town for?
[She may be afraid of the answer, but she has to know. If she doesn't start bracing herself now, it'll be too late.]
no subject
[Her smile might say more than anything that reaches his ears, because she doesn't know how to give August the appropriate amount of credit in anything she tells him. She has had worse, that's true, but Emma doesn't remember having better. The last time she gave a damn about a guy she was seventeen years old and thoroughly inexperienced. It's different now, in a small bed instead of a small car, with someone who came to find her rather than leaving her behind.
At least she tells herself it is.
The idea of August riding out of town has crossed her mind plenty of times. It's what makes her want to do the leaving before he has a chance to; so it can be her choice this time instead of his. Emma is keenly aware that he's a free spirit, and she's not trying to hold him down as much as she'd like to hold him close. This feels good, being with him, and while she'll argue that it's just to get away from being further scarred by Mary Margaret and David, her reasons for sticking around tonight have nothing to do with them.
She wants August. She wants him like this, and she wants him to stay. She wants him in Henry's life and in hers. But that's another thing Emma doesn't tell him, even as her eyes hold steady on him. She tucks her arm under a pillow and sighs, tired with a mind that's set on racing instead of sleeping. Every muscle in her body is exhausted, and she can all but feel the ache in her bones after that.
It pales in comparison to that flutter in her chest, the long-forgotten excitement of unwinding with someone she cares about. So she can't help it, she can't stop herself, she doesn't even try this time -]
Have you decided how long you're staying in town for?
[She may be afraid of the answer, but she has to know. If she doesn't start bracing herself now, it'll be too late.]