FORM & FUNCTION Written by anonymous critter
volume I
PROLOGUE “Emma, babe, someone’s at the door.” The brunette managed to say between the blonde’s sloppy kisses. Emma nibbled on her company’s bottom lip and dismissed the knocking with a simple, “whoever it is can come back later.” She snickered as her hands ran over darker toned thighs. And the beauty before her wouldn’t have minded ignoring the knocking altogether, but whoever was at the door was quite persistent. Emma felt two palms push against her chest and only looked up to see that she wasn’t getting anywhere if she wasn’t going to do anything about whoever was at her door. “I swear, if it turns out to be some sales person, you’re paying for the turn off.” To which the brunette simply replied, “I’m counting on that.” Emma’s only reaction was to pull away all the bed sheets and childishly throw them to the ground. She threw on one of her oversized hoodies for the sake of slight decency and walked over to her little apartment’s door. Swan came from a fairly wealthy family and could afford living in a much more spacious apartment, but something about the rawness of the bare red bricks and air vents caught the blonde’s attention. Being an architecture student, she found herself constantly challenging her creativity to modify her little space, making it seem much larger than it actually was. Her favorite part (and her guests’ as well) was her work space; a double hight room of red masonry with a view on the college campus. What left her visitors in awe was the great wall she dedicated to pin-up sketches; Emma was quite the artist. She swung the door open with attitude and froze at the feeling of arms tightly embracing her. It took a moment for her to register that the arms around her were those of her best friend’s, Ruby Lucas. The friend whom she did not keep in contact with throughout the summer, the friend who has been with her in the study since day one and shares every class and lecture with. Including History of Architecture II given by Dr. Tamara Green. That same doctor who was in nothing but a horrible excuse of lingerie in her bedroom and was moaning her name not twenty minutes ago. Ruby knew nothing and Emma was freaking out. “You’re such a bitch, Swan,” she said as she casually walked into Emma’s apartment and on any other day, the blonde wouldn’t have minded it all. Any other day but when her last semester history teacher was half naked. In her bed. Waiting. She quickly shut the door, eyes darting towards the bedroom. Please don’t come out, please don’t come out. Ruby noticed how Emma fidgeted in her little space and noticed her figure in nothing boy shorts and a hoodie. Her eyes widened at the realization of the situation, “shit, do you have company?” Ruby was beaming at Emma, and the blonde knew just how much her friend enjoyed picking on her and was willing to go with the teasing. “Is he cute? How big?” Emma couldn't help but chuckle at the comment and answered, “I’ve missed you too.” But then Emma heard footsteps and saw the anticipation growing on Ruby’s face. “Babe, who’s at the door?” Tamara walked out in another hoodie towards Emma, invading her personal space immediately, obviously unaware of the two blues staring at them both. But it didn’t take long before she dropped her inappropriate hands from around Emma’s neck and started to pull on her hoodie downwards. She straightened up her posture and cleared her throat before “casually” welcoming the guest with a, “Hello Ms Lucas, I see you’re back from your summer vacation. I hope it has been satisfactory.” Ruby watched her previous instructor put herself into professional mode so quickly that it would have worked if not for the bare legs and messy hair. She directed her attention towards Emma, who looked absolutely mortified, then back to her now blushing teacher. “Um, yeah… I guess.” And with her words the room was left quiet for a little too long. It wasn’t until Tamara said she’d “find her way out” and left that Ruby laughed.
“You’d think by now you’d consider me a friend and tell me when you’re banging the woman in the suit.” “A) She’s rarely in a suit; B) Even when she is she’s… Well, she’s attractive; and C) I’m not ‘banging’ her.” “Em,” Ruby took a few steps closer, gripping her friends shoulders and slightly shaking her, “aside from the fact that she is your instructor, she’s married.” Emma shrugged off Ruby’s hands and moved towards the kitchenette, “technically, she doesn’t lecture me anymore and-“ “Marrieeeed.” Ruby chimed as she followed the blonde. Emma put down a glass with more force than necessary. “Divorced.” Knowing that it wasn’t the right time to start talking her friend out of this chaos, she decided to simply listen to her answer “when?” Emma rested her forearms against the kitchen counter, pinching her right hand pinkie finger as she let out a heavy sigh, “Remember when I told you, right after our finals, that I would be visiting my father during vacation? I sorta went to India instead.”
Sixteen Emma hated long flights; something about being strapped to a seat for long hours in a small aircraft with another nine passengers breathing the same air wasn’t appealing to her. But this was a trip Emma couldn’t simply not be part of, it was her group’s design that was being executed. Two months ago, the project of designing a sustainable home that could be quickly built and moved around was just that, a project. Now, that very same project was being built on the other side of the world. It’s not like she was forced to go, but being herself, she had to be involved in every detail of her project, beginning to end. What encouraged her even more was hearing that one of her favorite instructors would be going as well, so, having no summer plans whatsoever, Emma signed up last minute, packed, and headed off to the airport. She had such high hopes, it was sad. Regina Mills wasn’t just an instructor, she was- Well, she was everything to Emma. Mills was the instructor who challenged her students, who was constantly sarcastic and extremely funny… Except when crossed. Luckily, Emma was always on the good side; but she wasn’t the kind of student who kissed ass. No, Emma and Regina’s relationship was based on risks; Emma always had the oddest concepts, and though she would deny it, she enjoyed watching Mills go speechless. It was attractive. REGINA was attractive. But she was professional. Maybe too professional for Emma’s liking. There wasn’t much of an age difference to Emma; the nine-year gap was never the issue. Emma was older in soul and mind than the average nineteen year-old. The blonde didn’t care for her colleagues’ teasing either, whether they were friendly or intentionally offensive. It was the way Regina treated her like any other student after the semester was over, like she was just another name on the list. It killed her because she knew Regina felt more, liked her more. The blonde constantly attempted to get closer to the instructor, to be friends (at least), but it was like the more she tried, the more Regina blocked her out. The trip was her last attempt to show Regina that they were alike in so many aspects, that just because Regina taught her a thing or two about architecture, it didn’t mean they had to be professional all the time. But Regina wasn’t on the plane. Emma had checked the confirmation list herself and a particular Mills had signed her name, and yet, she was not on the damn plane. This was personal. With that realization, Emma settled in her chair on what was going to be an aggravating sixteen-hour flight. She had the seat on the isle and was determined to convince whoever booked the window seat to switch. She wasn’t up for conversing with some preppy architecture student (the irony) nor was she willing to discuss the project. It wasn’t long before the slim figure filled the seat to her right, swiftly fishing out Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities and… Doodling on the pages? Emma couldn’t help but stare as the darker fingers sketched down what seemed to be a man on his knees. “Do you find it strange, Miss Swan?” “Hm, what?” Emma continued to watch the fingers work before looking up to notice how close she was leaning into her instructor’s chair. “I’m sorry, Doctor, it’s just… Wow.” For someone who was usually great with words, Emma seemed to have forgotten the whole dictionary. “I’ve always hated wordy books. Illustrations, they aren’t just for children, you know?” She tilted the book to show the blonde her quick sketch of a man in a fancy suit. “Sidney Carton, I imagined him looking somewhat similar to that.” “My, classic readers, are we, Ms Swan.” She chuckled lightly and handed her book to the blonde who gratefully accepted and flipped through the pages.
Emma’s attention was caught by a sketch of that very man in messy uniform and pure agony on his face. The speech bubble to the upper right read, “-and non-existing beautiful children you could carry,” and being the frequent reader that she was, she knew it was out of context. She flipped to another page, smiled at her instructor, and handed back the book. “It’s brilliant.” she concluding, but looking up, she could see slight pain in the older woman’s face. “It’s my escape.” With that, she went back to sketching in silence. If Emma thought the sixteen-hour flight would be a total pain before, the idea of her neighbor’s hinted unhappiness added more to her curiosity.
!
The lights on the plane were out, she had already spent ten hours doing nothing but reading -and rereading- her comic book, Watchmen, and playing suduko. She pushed herself up slightly to get a glimpse of the spotlights left on hoping to find anyone to socialize with for a change but none of them were interesting enough. With all honesty, the only person Emma wanted to talk to was her sleeping neighbor to her right, and by the looks of how deep she was in sleep, none of that was happening any time soon. She quietly turned off her spotlight, adjusted her seat to sleeping position, and closed her eyes. Ever since she was young, Emma had always been a light sleeper; even the most quiet sounds of pattering rain against the window would wake her up. Usually, this characteristic was to her benefit; she was never late for classes. This of course was more of a curse when the woman on her right kept shifting in her sleep. At first, Emma tried ignoring the ruffling sounds, but hearing a quiet sigh compelled her to turn her head to the right. The brunette’s worry lines creased her forehead, and if Emma didn’t know better, the woman was mumbling in her sleep. Emma saw sadness in its clearest form, she couldn’t help but slowly place her hand on her instructor’s arm. She talked to her slowly, hushing her with a repetitive, “it’s okay.” The older woman seemed to relax under the blonde’s touch and the worry lines slowly started to fade. Emma could see the novel tucked under the brunette’s arm and fought herself not to slowly slip it out. She failed and quietly went through the pages, her right hand unconsciously stroking the brunette’s arm. The illustrations were of Dr. Glass, Dr. Green’s husband, and most of them included his saddened appearance in argument with a dark skinned Lucy Mannette (who was probably Dr. Green in this case) Most of the dialogue was around the idea of a lost future and lack of love while the illustrations were usually arguments and heated sex. Reaching the page she had seen before, Emma heard the groggy voice say, “I had a miscarriage… Two actually.” Emma quickly shut the novel and looked at her instructor, her eyelids heavy and the rims unusually red. “I’m so s-sorry,” the blonde stuttered, “I didn’t mean to-“ She was quieted by the smile on her instructor’s face as she slowly placed the book down on the joint armrest. The darker woman sat up and adjusted her seat. She looked down at her palms, her fingers twitching mildly, and her smile went from warm to professional. She ran her fingers through her straightened hair, and Emma found herself imagining what her natural hair looked like. “When I was younger,” Emma began, “I lost my youngest uncle to an overdose.” She was reluctant, but kept her focus on the doctor’s hands. “My parents told me he died in a car accident to spare my feelings; he was three years older than I was so we were pretty close.” The twitching lessened as Tamara pulled down her sleeves to cover her palms and fingers. “I found out the truth five years later, when I was eighteen, from a common friend who blabbed too much. I was devastated.” She waited quietly for a response but heard nothing but a quiet and long sigh followed by an “I’m sorry for your loss.” The rest of flight was spent with absolutely no conversation, but Emma couldn’t help feeling horrible for her instructor.
The Indian experience was beyond what Emma had expected it to be. On days, the students would visit ancient Stupas while on others they were taken to cultural events and ceremonies. Overall, the blonde could easily say her traveling to India was one of the best decisions she had ever made. During their final week, the students were given the assignment to design and construct sustainable homes for poor villages. She had done a great job at avoiding her instructor throughout the whole trip, and she was not going to stop until she met her in history class the next semester. It wasn’t like she wanted to purposely because of the cold shoulder she got on the plane, but because the instructor seemed to avoid Emma too. It was frustrating, because when they had to interact, all the blonde got was attitude and sarcasm. Fuck being considerate, she would remind herself. Fact is though, she was considerate, even when she thought she wasn’t. During their very last night on the trip, with an early flight home the next morning, her colleagues had decided to unwind and celebrate at the hotel bar. Nothing fancy, just a good session of thankfulness, achievement, and gossip. It wasn’t exactly Emma’s favorite pastime, but she had enjoyed working with these people and was overall glad with their work as a team. Luckily, it wasn’t long before most of them got wasted and flirtatious; Emma was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to sleep with all the sounds she was going to hear. Her roommate had her hands all over this other guy, the blonde figured she might not even be able to sleep in her room. With a friendly good bye (and a couple of night activity declines), Emma slouched in her seat and took a swig at the nearly empty beer bottle in her hand. With the quietness came thoughts of her instructor and how far the darker woman went to avoid her. Why? And as if on cue, Emma looked to her right and found that very woman sitting at a table right across the bar. She was crying, her mobile phone trapped between her knuckled and pressed into her forehead. Why was she so unhappy? Was this why she was avoiding me? Why the fuck would I care? Before she could answer herself, she found her legs walk her towards that very table. Okay, maybe she was a bit drunk. The blonde placed her hand on the brunette bare shoulder, her thumb stroking the soft skin gently. “You’re okay.” She said, trying her best not to make it sound like a question. She found cold eyes stare at her and a mouth ready to scold her away. She quickly continued, “you’re a badass instructor, you can tell stupas apart, I’m pretty sure you could’ve taught at the Bauhaus, and not to mention, you’re a mega babe.” With that, the brown eyes softened and a smile was drawn on perfect nude lips. “Join me, Ms Swan.” That was not a question. They spent the following two hours discussing life, mocking students, recapping the project process, and just laughing. This was the kind of company Emma wanted to have all the time. Smart, witty, intellectual, and a gorgeous smile to top it all. Absolutely gorgeous. Fuck. Tamara told her everything, yet nothing about why she avoided the blonde. She told her about how she had fallen for Sydney when she had just started teaching while he had been lecturing for five years, how they instantly fell in love and married, how long they had spent trying to have a child but her body couldn’t handle it, and how she eventually found out that he had a child with another fellow lecturer. Ouch. With their conversation having a painful ending, Tamara suggested they had gone back to their rooms to get some sleep before their flight, and being the gentle lady that she was, Emma walked her instructor to her door. “Well, good night Ms Sw-“ and that was when she heard it. Her instructor’s face had gone all shades of red, her eyes immediately avoiding Emma’s. At first, Emma couldn’t register when she had heard until she heard a loud thump and a muffled “faster, more, oh fuck.” The blonde blushed in response and could only manage a quiet, “wow.” She noticed her instructor’s twitching fingers and looked up to find the once brown eyes completely black.
“Tell me, Ms Swan,” she cleared her throat and continued, “will I be teaching you next semester? I mean, have you signed up for any of my lectures?” Emma, confused, answer, “um, no. Unfortunately, the timings clashed with my studio class.” “Good.” Emma felt to hands glad her shirt collar and soft lips against hers.
! ! ! ! !
DALLAS The thing about sex is that you are positioned so close to a person, you feel every emotion they feel even when they’re lying. This was supposed to be casual, a moment of release from all the tension you’re finally ex husband has caused. It was just a sensation, an activity to get your blood flowing so you can get up and face another day, right? This becomes a problem when only a month after your return from India you receive a call from the head of department saying that due to staff shortage, you will be teaching your fuck partner (because that’s all she is, right?) about the pioneers of modern architecture. It becomes an even bigger problem when you call off the arrangement (or whatever it is you shared with the blonde) and watch her honest eyes show signs of slight pain. The biggest problem though is watching the blonde carry on normally like India meant nothing to her at all and actually craving her. So, you invite her over for a friendly dinner to ease things out. And as expected, she declines. You attempt meeting her anywhere for a friendly chat, but your efforts show no results. You shift and reposition yourself in bed, it’s too big for your little body to share with loneliness. Naturally, you touch yourself from night to night. You end up spending the nights falling asleep on your couch, her name slipping between your whimpering lips. Congratulations, you’ve become addicted to the human being Emma Swan.
!
A month and a half after her personal realization of her blooming feelings for the blonde, Tamara found herself coping and slowly coming to terms with the disconnection. She would spend her lonely nights working hard on creating the most exceptional history presentations or, when the void was too big, she would spend hours at the library, reading endlessly. This night was slightly different though; she had been asked out for dinner by a younger lecturer from Dallas who recently became a coworker. Being her efficient self though, she had decided to dress early and be picked up from the library; she needed to get the lecture on Le Courbusier’s five rules in architecture out of the way. Walking into the quiet library, she directed herself straight to the modern movement isle only to find a certain blonde humming to her our iPod and softly tapping her pencil against her notebook to the beat. Tamara slowly slipped into the isle, moving as fast as possible to get the book she needed and head to another study desk and hoping to avoid any interaction with the blond. Only, the book wasn’t in any of the shelves. “I’ll hand over the book if you explain something to me.” Tamara slowly faced the blonde, her breathe stopping at her throat. Emma’s eyes were glued to the book, avoiding eye contact. “Louis Sullivan. He claims that his designs follow his saying, form follows function. Explain to me how that is even slightly justified in the his design for the Weinright building, because honestly, it’s all crap.” The blonde looks up at the brunette with a soft smile, Tamara can’t help but raise an eyebrow and chuckle, “you’re criticizing an architectural master of that time and saying his work is crap.” It’s more of a stunned response. I love it when she talks about buildings. “Bold, Swan. Even for you.” “Well, take a look here, alright? He says form follows function, right?” Tamara takes the seat next to the blonde but keeps a decent distance. room?”
The blonde continued, “but look here, he decides to add these molded decorations and ornaments on the top area of the building. That’s a mechanical room! Why on Earth would you want the focus of the building to be on the mechanical room?” Tamara was captivated. She absolutely loved how Emma fought logic, how she questioned people’s decisions, and how stubborn she was to prove a point. But there was to be none of that; she was waiting for a date and the blonde wasn’t interested, right? “And wait, there’s more. What the deal with being all modern and claiming to respect materials when he hides his steel structure behind brick walls?” “That, Ms Swan, is actually a very good question. You’ll find many architects who try to justify their work, but sometimes, it’s just weak.” “I don’t like this Sullivan guy.” she pouted briefly, slouching in her seat with her arms crossed. “Well, he did inspire a couple of great architects. Take Frank Lloyd Wright as an example; he loved Sullivan!” “I don’t like Frank Lloyd Wright either.” Emma looked up at her soon to be recurring history instructor. Tamara grinned, her fingers flipping quickly through the pages, eyes darting to find any text on Le Courbusier, “well then, who do you like? Mies? Venturi?” “You.” and in seconds, Tamara felt cold palms on the sides of her head as she was pulled into a crushing of lips. It took her a second too long, and before she could actually engage, her phone vibrated against the wooden table. The phone flashed Cassidy. Emma glimpsed at the screen then back at her instructor, taking in her overall appearance. Shit, a date. Stupid. “It can wait.” She stroked Emma’s arm lightly, her fingers slight trickling over flawless skin, as she leaned into the blonde’s space again. Emma’s response was to pull back altogether. “You should take it… Have a good time tonight.” With that the blonde swiftly stood from her chair and headed for the door. Tamara watched as her student bumped into her date, and could hear the interaction between them. They knew each other, but that was probably because Cassidy often came to give lectures at the department and Emma, being Regina’s top student, attended every single one of them and spoke to him a couple of times. But something about the way Emma shifted from left to right frequently, which Tamara knew was what she did when she was hurt, upset, or nervous, formed doubts in her mind. It also seemed like whenever Cassidy took a step closer, she took a step back. Something was definitely up. The date was nothing out of the ordinary; fancy dinner, overly priced wine, and small talk about the architectural field. He was charming, this Cassidy, but he was not exactly captivating. Still, overall, it beat spending a lonely night watching pointless reruns. Tamara had intended to ask about his connection to Emma, but then she took a moment to think, would it matter? Knowing Emma, she would probably avoid her after what had happened earlier, so what was the point? And at that realization moment, Neal Cassidy seemed slightly more interesting. This of course led to more dates. More stolen kisses. Eventual make-outs. And finally, a dinner at his new apartment. Tamara knew where this would be heading, and though deep down she wanted to resist, she’s grown tired of feeling alone. She’s grown tired of having the blonde stuck at the back of her head. Neal’s soft kisses were at her neck, his hands gently pulling her closer by the waist. She kept control of her hands, resting them gently on her own lap as they sat on the black leather couch. She took a moment to admire his apartment and mentally applauded him for his contemporary taste of furniture. Her eyes wandered around the room, stopping at a desk cornered by a massive glass window.
There were tidy rolls of transparencies, t-squares and rulers, markers, and so on, but it was too tidy. You’d expect an architect or even an instructor to have a personal mess at the desk, and Tamara was surprised to find herself disappointed. Her eyes then noticed a photo in a black frame of Cassidy and a blonde. The messy gold was screaming “Emma,” she let out, her mind not registering what she had just said. Slowly, the kissing stopped and warm hands reached for her little ones. She looked back at her companion, his face reflecting his confusion. She cleared her throat and asked, “how do you know Emma Swan?” her eyes shifted back at the photo, and Neal followed her gaze. “I gave a couple of lectures here before.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably, “she was a very bright student, lots of potential.” He smiled as he shook his head lightly, “She always had something to say.” Tamara smiled at that, “you’re telling me. But really,” she gently palmed his cheek and turned his gaze back to hers, “how do you know Emma Swan?” With a sigh of defeat, “We dated a long time ago. As a visiting lecturer, all those student/instructor rules didn’t apply, you know? So we had something good.” “Why’d it end?” Tamara couldn’t care less how imposing her questions were; she loved talking about the blonde. “She loved someone else. She would never tell me that straight forward, but I knew.” “Did you ever find out who?” “No, she was discreet. It seemed like sometimes she even tried to deny it herself. It was painful for her, you know? She would write or compose about it, but never speak.” “I didn’t know she could sing.” Tamara smiled softly like a proud girlfriend. Stop it. “Yeah, she was pretty good.” Neal repositioned his hands on Tamara’s waist, pulling her close again, “but she is the past. You are now, and I couldn’t ask for better company.” Tamara kissed his lips softly then gently replied, “Not tonight.”