My entry for the second round of the Rumbelle Showdown 2015. I tried something a little bit different here, I hope you still like it ;)
Prompts: A dream of yesterday, Library, Waterfall
Happiness surges through his body, a current of fire flowing through his veins and warming him to the ends of his fingertips. He is as close to his goal, as he's never been before and for once life is good, so so good, and his vision is a haze of warmth. The end is close, but right now he is right where he is supposed to be and when he looks down he realizes that he has been wandering through an ocean of books, rows upon rows of shelves swaying in the breeze like waves and he doesn't feel the need to hurry things along. He is close to his goal and right now there is nothing he has to do, but wait and follow the strange bells that seem to be calling him from ahead.
Rum-Rum-Rum-Rum-Rum-Rum-Rum-Rum-Rum-Rum-Rum-Rum-Rum-Rum-Rum-Rum-Rum-Rum
Suddenly there is a new determination to his steps as he wades through the books and a smile blooms on his lips. The bells, the bells are happiness and he knows that he has to find them. He follows the siren-call of their twinkling as the waves slowly make way to a solid shore and finds himself in a forest made of spinning wheels, rising tall as skyscrapers to the sky. It is darker here, but he can still hear the bells, so he isn't afraid when he makes his way through the forest. He brushes aside a thick strand of gold, hanging from a spindle high above and startles when he sees his hand. It gleams greenish-golden in the sun, scales reflecting the light tickling through the canopy of wood and metal. Somewhere in the back of his mind he feels that that is not how it is supposed to look, but it is his hand, attached to his arm, so surely it has to be, he is certain and the thought dissolves as he looks at the flittering light and his feet carry him forward, always forward to the bells.
Rum-Rum-Rum-Rum-Rum-Rum-Rum-Rum-Rum-Rum-Rum-Rum-Rum-Rum-Rum-Rum-Rum-Rum
When he looks around again the forest has vanished and he is in a dark valley, enclosed in black stone and his heart leaps. He can still hear his bells, but their call echoes strangely between the tall stone walls and he doesn't know where to go from here. He is afraid, a coward, always such a coward, and he whirls around, desperately searching for a way out from this dark place, any sign for his bells, but there is only forbidding stone.
Rum-um-m-Rum-um-m-Rum-um-m-Rum-um-m-Rum-um-m-Rum-um-m-Rum-um-m-Rum-um-m
He stumbles forwards, blind in his panic and when he falls down a slope and falls down, down, down, he finally spies a waterfall of broken books at the end of his path and relief floods him. He can hear his bells again, louder than ever and when he ducks under the flying pages the sun rises before him and his grip on the cup in his hand tightness. Where did that come from? He isn't sure, but surely it has been there all along and when he looks into the light and sees his very own bell, all thoughts are forgotten as his whole world narrows down to a pair of blue eyes in a moon-pale face. Nothing is important anymore, nothing but this pair of eyes.
"Your tea, dearie." His lips move on their own accord and the voice leaving his lips is strange, his and not his at the same time, and he offers her his cup like a sacrifice and when she reaches for it, he realizes that it wasn't a cup after all but his heart, chip and all. Somehow it feels even more right. Of course it is his heart, why would he offer his little laughing bell anything less? He would give her his heart and his soul and his very being and it still wouldn't be enough
"Thank you, Rumple." The name is foreign to him, but somehow he still knows it to be his and her voice is utterly warm and when she cradles his heart to her own bosom he feels the same warmth spring to life in his own chest. Anything, anything for you, he wants to say, but he can't, his treacherous tongue refusing to obey and when she motions for him to step closer to her, he doesn't think that he would have been able to form words anyway.
"Rumple", she whispers and leans in to kiss him and he can feel how the darkness looses its grip on his soul. But how can it not? He is all hers after all and she is pure light.
"It's working", she whispers breathlessly and smiles so bright that it blinds him and he has to close his eyes and-
—
Mr. Gold woke with a start, his fingers grabbing desperately for his blanket. His gaze razed through the darkness and he needed a moment to realize that he was alone in his bedroom as his heartbeat slowed. He gasped for breath, the sound eerily loud in the silent room. But of course he was here, where else would he be and most importantly with whom?
He turned on his back and did his best to ignore the painful throbbing in his chest. He was the terror of Storybrook, the most powerful man in town, and he took pleasure in the dreed in people's eyes, when they had to confront him. That was the way it was and that was exactly how he wanted it. Blue eyes flashed before his mind's eye and he shook his head violently. No, it was only a stupid dream, doubtlessly caused by the scotch he had indulged in before bed.
He swallowed hard. That was it, a vision caused by alcohol and the longing he felt so painfully that it made him shudder was only the last remnant of an incredibly vivid dream. He stared into the darkness, the pale face swimming before his eyes. He didn't quite dare close his eyes again and alone in the quiet of his dark bedroom no one could argue when he told himself that there was nothing warm running down his checks and blurring his vision.