believe || ouat oneshots

Requiem

A/N: uh, yeah, probably (definitely) don't read this if you ship captainswan

based on requiem from Dear Evan Hansen (audio is in the multi-media)

and just a warning: this got a lot darker than I expected it to get oops, so tw for abuse

~

Why should I play this game of pretend,
Remembering through a secondhand sorrow?

Emma's ceiling hadn't changed at all in the past hour. She didn't expect it to, but if it had changed, she would have seen because she hadn't stopped staring at it. Her blonde hair was spread out around her head and her hands were wrapped around the ring Killian had given her.

He'd said he was a survivor. But maybe it was just the ring that was keeping him alive. In a world of magic and fairytales, anything could be true, it seemed.

For as long as Emma had been staring at the ceiling, no tears had fallen from her eyes. Maybe she had run out of tears while still clinging to Killian as he died in her arms, or maybe her body was too tired to force more tears to fall. Or maybe there was something deep inside telling Emma she didn't need to cry.

"Such a great son and wonderful friend"
Oh, don't the tears just pour?

Emma remained silent all through the funeral the next day. Others spoke about Killian, but not Emma. No one pushed her into it because they assumed she was too upset to talk. Snow spoke for Emma, reading a speech she, David, Regina, and Henry had written, hoping it sounded like how Emma would speak of Hook. Robin spoke about being his friend despite the fact that they weren't ever very close. Regina said a bit about knowing him back in the Enchanted Forest, but the two had never been on very good terms, so she didn't have too much to say.

What Emma heard was not a bunch of thought out speeches of kind words like everyone else heard. All she heard was what sounded like essays, written about a topic no one cared about so they had just made it up and hoped for a good grade.

She didn't cry through the funeral, and she didn't say a single word.

I could curl up and hide in my room
There in my bed still sobbing tomorrow

Emma hung up her coat and trudged up to her bedroom. She sat down on her bed and stared straight ahead, her eyes not really focusing on anything. She was half-expecting someone to come knocking on her door within the hour, making sure she was okay. Maybe it would be Regina or maybe it would be her parents. Either way, it wouldn't really matter.

They would expect that she was crying, curled up in a fetal position, wondering why she should carry on. Part of Emma wanted to do exactly that, but she couldn't make herself. She couldn't make herself do what everyone expected.

I could give in to all of the gloom
But tell me, tell me what for?

The black shirt came off and fell onto Emma's bed, leaving the blonde in only her tank top. She traced the outline of the fading bruise on her left forearm, wincing whenever she accidentally put too much pressure on it. Emma knew it would disappear in a few days, but not all of the marks would go away over time.

The blonde made her way from the bedroom to the bathroom, her face remaining expressionless. She was numb without Killian there, it seemed. Was he the reason she was able to feel? Did she need him in order for her emotions to work? Was that even possible?