He didn't say it. With every step he took away from the station, the burden he carried grew heavier. Pain and desperation, longing and fear. It sat deep within his chest, in the space where his heart should have been. He fought to remain standing beneath the weight of it all until the moment he reached his final destination. The very place where more lifetimes than anyone deserved would finally come to an end. And he didn't say it.
He had never lived without a heart. He knew it was possible, though he'd only ever seen it done by those who had chosen not to love. And though there was a time when he would have counted himself among them, he knew that he no longer could. Even as he fell to his knees at the edge of the docks, he could still feel her hand on his neck, could still taste her kiss on his lips. He had been afraid, from the second that his heart was torn from his chest, that he would feel different. That he would be different with her until his final moment. But no. He could still feel it all, as if nothing had changed. And he already knew why.
He loved her. He loved Emma Swan. With all that he had and all that he was, he loved her. So why hadn't he said it? In the last moment he would look into her emerald eyes, feel the warmth of her body pressed against his own, and taste the fire on his lips when they met hers, why hadn't he just said the words?
If there's one thing I've gleaned from you hero types, it's that there's always hope.
His own words spoken what felt like lifetimes ago, in a moment when hope was nowhere to be found, echoing in his thoughts now. Rumplestiltskin possessed his heart and was going to crush it at any moment. He was just forced to say goodbye to the woman he loved and to walk away, knowing that if he didn't die first, he would fall under a curse that would turn him into the worst version of himself. But even then, he couldn't bring himself to say those three words to her. Because he didn't have to. Because she already knew. Because in the deepest part of himself, far deeper than his heart would ever go, was Emma. She was a part of him that could never be taken. And she was his hope when all else seemed hopeless. And though he may die, his heart turned to dust in the hands of the Crocodile, he couldn't give up on the hope that this was not the end. Saying it in that moment would be as if he was giving up on Emma, the living embodiment of hope, and nothing – not even death – could force him to give up on her. To give up on love.
The curse cloud finally reached him, surrounding him from all directions as small shards of glass began raining from the sky. He placed his hand over his chest, turning his eyes in the direction of the station and imagining that he could see her. He may not have said it then, may not have needed to say it aloud, but he'd be damned if his life was going to come to an end without at least tasting the words on his lips one time.
I love you, Emma.