The days that followed blurred into weeks, then months.
Nathan had expected Emma to vanish after that first encounter, just another fleeting kindness in a harsh world. But instead, she lingered. Sometimes she stopped by the shelter just to make sure he was still there. Other times she brought him food or other times take him out just to have someone.
She pretended it was nothing. That she was just doing what "anyone would." But Nathan saw through her. Emma always had her walls up even as she reached out, as if afraid of caring too much. Even so slowly they started to weaken.
And Nathan, despite his eight-year-old body, understood her in a way no one else ever could.
One night, Emma sat with him outside the shelter steps. The streetlight above them flickered, buzzing faintly. Some snacks between them, watching the world go by.
"Why do you keep hanging around me?"
Emma asked suddenly, her arms wrapped around her knees. "You could've attached yourself to any kid here. Why me?"
Nathan tilted his head, considering how to word it. His golden eyes shimmered faintly in the dark, purple rings glowing when the light caught them.
"Because you're lonely," he said simply.
Emma stiffened, caught off guard.
"I'm not—" she started, but Nathan's soft smile stopped her."It's okay. I'm lonely too."
The words hung between them, fragile and real. Emma looked away quickly, biting her lip. She didn't answer—but she didn't walk away either. Just sat there content in the moment with him.
Emma wasn't good at showing care directly, but she had her ways.
She'd buy him small things when she could—an extra donut from the corner store, a second-hand hoodie that was a little too big but warm, a pocketknife "just in case."
"Don't go waving it around," she scolded when she handed it over.
Nathan grinned, clutching it like treasure. "Thanks, sis."
Emma froze. "…Sis, huh?" she muttered, turning her head so he couldn't see her expression. "Don't get used to it."
But Nathan noticed the way her lips quirked upward, just slightly.
Despite his small frame, Nathan sometimes ended up looking out for her.
One evening, when a drunk stumbled too close to Emma outside a convenience store as left it, Nathan had stepped between them without hesitation. His golden eyes locked on the man, sharp and unflinching. There was no fear in them—only a strange, unsettling calm.
The drunk backed off, muttering, as if something in Nathan's gaze unnerved him.
Emma had grabbed Nathan's hand after, dragging him away. "What the hell were you thinking? You could've been hurt!"
Nathan just shrugged. "I wasn't going to let him touch you."
Emma opened her mouth to argue, then stopped. His words sank in, and something in her chest tightened.
"…You're a pain, you know that?" she muttered, ruffling his platinum hair roughly to cover the sudden warmth forming in her eyes.
Nathan only smiled.
On a rainy night, Emma and Nathan huddled together under the canopy of a closed shop.
Emma stared at the wet pavement, voice low. "Sometimes I wonder if anyone out there would even notice if I disappeared."
Nathan's small hand slipped into hers, firm despite its size.
"I would," he said softly. "I'd notice every day."
Emma froze, throat tightening. No one had ever said that to her and meant it.
She squeezed his hand back, just once, before letting go quickly. "…You're too wise for your age, kid."
Nathan chuckled. "Maybe I've just been through more than I should have."
She didn't ask what he meant. Somehow, she already knew better.
The diner's neon sign buzzed faintly against the glass, throwing pale pink and blue light across the near-empty booths. Emma slid into the seat across from Nathan, her shoulders slumped from exhaustion. Her hands were raw from another long day of scraping together just enough cash to keep them fed. Still never telling Nathan what she does to get money. Even tho he knew what she doing.
She expected the usual silence between them, maybe Nathan humming softly to himself, eyes glinting like he knew more than he should. What she didn't expect was the small chipped plate waiting for her in the middle of the table.
On it sat a cupcake—slightly lopsided, with frosting smeared unevenly—and a single crooked candle, its flame trembling. Beside it a small Swan pin.
Emma blinked confusingly. "…What's this?"
Nathan grinned, leaning back with mock confidence. "Happy birthday, Emma."
Her chest tightened. "How do you know it's my birthday?"
"I pay attention, plus I listen really well" Nathan said matter-of-factly smugly as if it were the simplest thing in the world. Then softened his tone. "You always talk less about this time of year. Figured something important was happening during this time."
Emma stared at him, stunned. No one had remembered her birthday in years. No family. No friends. Not even foster parents who cared enough to pretend.
Her throat tightened, and she forced a laugh to cover it. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"
"Ridiculously thoughtful," Nathan shot back, smug for a moment.
Emma shook her head, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her with the faintest smile. Slowly, she leaned forward brushing her fingers along the swan and sticking on her jacket bent forward and blew out the candle. The little puff of smoke curled into the air, fragile and fleeting.
Nathan clapped once, grinning ear to ear. "So, what'd you wish for?"
"Not telling." She smirked, trying to bury the warmth spreading through her chest. But as she bit into the cupcake, her heart whispered a wish she'd never dare say out loud—Maybe I won't always be alone.
And for the first time in years, Emma Swan felt seen.
Nathan walked into the diner, expecting another ordinary night—Emma teasing him about his hair, or stealing the last fry from his plate. Instead, she was already in their booth, trying very hard to look casual while a small, newspaper-wrapped box sat in front of her.
Nathan froze. "What's that?"
Emma smirked. "It's called a birthday present, genius. People give them when they care."
He blinked trembling. "Y-you… what?"
"Don't tell me you've never had one before."
Nathan slid into the booth, his stomach fluttering. "Not really." Thinking back to his last life the hospitals didn't throw parties. Nurses jut gave a nod doctors commented the date out loud. He laughed weakly, trying to make it sound less sad than it was.
Emma's smirk faltered, softening into something gentler. "Well, this time's different. Open it."
With trembling hands, Nathan tugged at the string. The newspaper crinkled as he peeled it back to reveal a simple leather bracelet, worn but sturdy. At its center was a small golden charm shaped like a sun, the etching faint but still gleaming under the diner's neon light.
Nathan's breath hitched. "It's… for me?"
Emma shrugged, pretending not to watch him too closely. "Yeah. Found it in a pawn shop. Thought it looked tough enough to survive even you."
Nathan slipped it onto his wrist, the leather snug and warm. His vision blurred as he whispered, "This is the first birthday present I've ever gotten."
Emma froze. "Wait—you were serious?"
He nodded, smiling shakily, In both lives.
Something in her chest cracked. She reached across the table, ruffling his hair, but her touch lingered longer this time. "Then you better wear it forever, kid. Deal?"
Nathan clutched the bracelet, the charm pressing into his skin like a promise. "Deal."
For the first time in either life, Nathan felt like he belonged Somewhere. And Emma, for the first time in hers, realized she might not be destined to be alone after all.
They made a habit of sitting in the same corner booth at a rundown diner. Emma would sip her cheap soda, Nathan with fries or pie if she had spare change. They'd watch the neon signs outside flicker to life.
"Think we'll ever get out of this?" Emma asked one evening, chin resting on her palm.
"Yeah," Nathan said with quiet certainty no hesitation.
She glanced at him, skeptical. "That easy, huh?"
"Not easy," Nathan corrected. His golden eyes caught the neon glow, making them look almost ethereal. "But we'll get there. You're not meant to stay stuck forever. You'll find where you belong Emma."
Emma blinked at him, unsettled by how much conviction he had. For a second, she believed him.
"…You're weird," she muttered, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.
That night, when Nathan lay in his bed at the shelter surrounded by others, a faint chime echoed in his mind.
[Bond Deepened: Emma Swan – Big Sister Affection Increased.]
[Passive Effect: 25% Slight Of Hands.]
Nathan's chest tightened. It wasn't romance—he didn't want it to be. But the bond was real, powerful in its own way. Emma wasn't just a character anymore. She was his anchor in this second life.
Two nights later, Nathan found himself wandering the streets, searching for Emma.
Emma hadn't come by the shelter yesterday or today since for while they spent most of there time together. She hadn't left a word, hadn't shown up at their usual places they visted. A small knot of worry twisted in his chest as he weaved through the evening crowds, his platinum hair catching the glow of neon lights.
She wouldn't just disappear… would she?
Finally getting too the last place he spotted her through the rain-streaked window of the diner. Relief surged that she was ok and about too go in and join her until he froze solid completely still.
Emma sat in their booth. Their booth. But she wasn't alone.
Across from her lounged a boyish young man, dark hair tousled, leather jacket slung carelessly around his shoulders. He leaned in close, speaking low, his grin easy and disarming. Whatever he said made Emma laugh—bright, unguarded, the kind of laugh Nathan had fought so hard to coax out of her.
Nathan stood rooted to the spot as the rain soaked him, his small fists clenched at his sides.
Neal Cassidy.
He'd known this moment was coming. He'd watched it before on a screen, in another life. But seeing it now and living it so far, with Emma so real, so warm, so fragile… it hurt him in ways he hadn't expected seeing how close they were.
The threads of fate were snapping back into place, tugging Emma onto the path she was always meant to walk.
Nathan's shoulders slumped down, golden eyes shimmered, purple rings deepening as he whispered to himself, barely audible.
"So…It begins."