Yeah,it appears that when I think of taking a break, I write a story instead. This is for my girls, the Trash Band because they're all so lovely and supportive. Also, they've gone and updated their stories which is terrific and i love them for it.

Here's some angsty (very questionable) one shot for ya.

Enjoy.

Breathe Again

"But what kind of heart doesn't look back?"

She takes one last look at the apartment, making sure she's not left anything behind, before she closes the door and locks it for the last time. She had never thought it would end like this, never once did she imagine it ever ending at all…and that had been naïve of her, because if there is one thing she'd learned with love is that there are no happy endings…no, not quite. Life is not a fairytale, after all.

But it had been a great thought, to think that they were destined to be together, to be each other's second chances, and that they could, would, end up happily together. Only it had been a pipe dream, something made out of dreams, something she never thought she could ever have—and surprise, surprise, she'd been right.

A tear slides down her eyes, and her hands tremble as one clenches into a fist at her side and the other grips the door knob. Her legs are shaking and it's a wonder how she's still standing at all, when her heart feels like it's cracking and shattering in so many pieces. She can't walk away, not like this, not now, not from him, but it seems that she's left with no recourse.

She pushes herself forward then, tries to stand on her wobbly legs and walks away from what has been her home for the past three years. She'd timed it this way, made sure that he isn't there when she came to gather her things. She can't see him, can't face him after everything, because she isn't sure she won't run into his arms and beg him to stay, ask him to ask her to not leave. She isn't sure she can walk away from him, not again.

Her heels click clack against the ground as she walks briskly, away from the apartment, away from every trace of him, leaving her heart where it will always be, and she feels so bad, feels like breaking, feels like…she doesn't know. She almost feels numb from the pain that frays around the edges of the heart, taking it apart at the seams, and the tattered pieces of it finding its way down her eyes through her endless tears.

It had been stupid, really, why they'd decided to call it off, to break up, and she can't find logic nor reason in it now that she's faced with its reality. She'd been mad, frustrated, and he had been in a snit too, having been let off from his work. At first she had understood, it had been a painful ordeal for him and she knows that, and she'd been supportive, never once making him feel less like a man as she shouldered their bills and urged him to find another job. She'd encouraged him, tried to understand his moods, and had given him a breather when he'd felt like wallowing in self pity. She hadn't said anything but the whispered I love you's and I believe in you. But he'd begun resorting to alcohol as the months wore on and she'd been tired of it by the time it had reached the third month. He'd been surly and moody, and though he'd never hurt her (not like her ex-husband had, anyway), it had reminded her of such bitter past that she'd started resenting him, feeling frustration build up around her heart too, even when she'd tried to fight it. She hadn't been angry, she had only wanted him to stop and get his life together.

But she'd had a particularly bad day at work, and he'd been drunk as a fish the time she'd gotten home and she'd snapped at him, and asked him why he's sitting on his bum rather than trying to look for work, and that she's tired enough of paying their bills by herself and had not needed him to add to her expenses by being a drunkard. It had hit a sore nerve, he'd been insecure, she knows, and it had brought on a fight of epic proportions and they both blew off their tops.

They'd yelled at each other, and it had her throwing at him the promise ring he'd given her, screaming that she can't take it anymore. He'd snapped then, telling her that he was tired of her constant coddling anyway, and making him feel like a child and being treated with kid gloves (she'd yelled that if he had wanted not to be treated like a child then he should stop acting like one). He'd slept on the couch that night, after she'd told him that it's over, she's done, and perhaps, it was time to rethink things.

She had not slept a wink that night, her tears never ending, to the point that she couldn't breathe. And when she'd woken up he had been gone, without a word or a note, without anything. And the hope she'd kept at the crevices of her heart that they could work it out come morning, apologize for the words that they've said due to the heat of the moment, talk about it like adults, had snuffed out. She'd deflated. And it had all seemed final.

She'd packed her bags at that moment and had been out the door, asking her friend Mallory to take her in a few days until she can find her own place, explaining that she and Robin were no longer together. She hadn't explained what had happened, hadn't had the need to, because Mal had taken her in without questions, promising to help her in whichever way she can.

But how could anyone help her when all she needs is him?

ooooo

She feels empty.

She feels like a shell of a person devoid of a soul and a heart, and she doesn't understand why she feels this way, why she feels this resounding pain. Because she isn't like this—she's never been. For so long, she's taken pride on the fact that she, Regina Mills, never needed anyone to depend on.

But he—he is different and in his own way, he had changed her, and it's hard to keep going on the way she's always had when she feels like she's forgotten how to be who she used to be before him.

It doesn't feel right now, not to be with him, to sleep in a bed where he isn't there to warm up, to go to sleep when she isn't in his arms. It had been weeks since then, yet she still feels as though a part of her had gone missing, had died, and still, she finds it hard to function, going about her days as though she is an automaton, going through the motions but not alive enough to really actually live.

Not for the first time, she asks herself why and how they'd gotten here.

And once again she reminds herself why this separation is necessary (but she doesn't really have a good reason why she's spending nights away from him and not beside him when that is what she wants, only she supposes she doesn't know what he wants, not anymore).

She turns in the bed, for what seems to be nth time, trying to find a comfortable position, even knowing that there is none, not without him beside her, but still, she tries, because she owes herself that much. Maybe, just as much as she owes it to herself to be given the time to come to terms to all of this, and maybe just as much as Robin owes it not only to her, but also himself, to get his act together.

(But it hurts, god it hurts so much to be far away from him, even if it this might be the right thing to do for the both of them, and she isn't sure how long she can last without him).

She closes her eyes, willing her tears away and swallowing the lump that seems to have permanently lodged itself in her throat.

Is it really possible to be this hurt?

And is it really possible to love someone this much?

Her queries are left unanswered as her phone beeps beside her, and it's him, and she doesn't know what to do—her heart says pick up when her brain says no. But she doesn't wonder for long, the message now having gone through her voice mail.

She presses the device close to her ear, his voice filling her ears and it takes everything in her not to run to her car and drive back to their—his—apartment.

Her heart constricts and for a moment she can't breathe, feels her breath actually leave her lungs.

'Hi, it's me, Robin,' he says, his voice broken, tired, 'And I…' There is a long pause pregnant with words that he doesn't say and that she wants to hear…She hears him breathe in deeply. And the words that tumble of his mouth has her gasping, has her heart stuttering and her hands trembling. 'I just wanted to tell you that I miss you…and that I love you…because…I do, I always will. And I know that I've fucked it up…but never, not once had I stopped loving you and for all the other things that I've failed you…I just want you to know that I loved you…I still do.'

The call ends and she hears the disconnection tone, but his words ring in her ears, find their way into her heart and etch itself on her mind and her flesh, and she wonders…she wonders when she can breathe again.

A/N: there might be a 2nd chapter to this depending on you lot, so we'll see. Let me know!