Thank you Ayla (reginasevilpanda on Tumblr) for looking this little drabble over, you've been a big help :)
"Mom? You okay?"
His mother sits on his bed in the mansion, her back turned to him, when Henry steps into his soon-to-be old room.
He can hear her sniffle, subtle but still there. She probably doesn't want him to see her like this.
"I'm fine," Regina replies while straightening up and moving a hand over her face.
Henry smiles. His mom is always fine, even when she's not. Right now she is clearly not, not that she would ever admit that. He's leaving his childhood home, leaving his mother to go to college.
He moves to sit next to her on the bed. The room is practically empty. Most of his stuff is already packed in boxes and on its way to his new room in college. The furniture is still there but the room lacks his personal touch. It feels weird, even to him. It must be even harder for his mom.
"Of course you are," he answers with a knowing smile and takes one of her hands into his. Regina looks at him and tries to smile as well. But it doesn't quite reach her eyes.
"You know, it's okay to cry."
She laughs wetly at this, holds his hand tighter and leans slightly into him.
"I always told you that when you were sad or mad. You were convinced that boys don't cry, that it's weak to cry," she tells him softly, her head leaning on his shoulder.
"But it's not."
"I know."
"Do you?"
Regina lifts her head from his shoulder and looks him into his eyes. "I'm going to miss you terribly, Henry."
Again, he smiles. "I know. I'm going to miss you too," he says and draws her into a tight hug. They stay like this for a while longer, nobody saying a word, just enjoying the moment and the closeness.
Regina is the first to break the silence. "You probably need to get going. I don't want you to drive in the dark on this death trap on two wheels." She breaks the hug gently, moving to stand up from the bed, while purposely ignoring his sigh and growled 'Mom' on her comment about his motorcycle.
Henry only chuckles. "Okay."
They both move to leave the room to go downstairs when Regina stops in front of his chair, his striped scarf in her hands. "Are you not taking this with you?" She sounds sad.
"Mom, it's summer. I won't need it now."
"Oh," she simply says and drapes the scarf back over the back of the chair. "I can send it to you when it's getting colder." She still stares at the woolen scarf, which accompanied him for so long, softly running her fingers over the material. It clearly holds a lot of memories to her.
"Keep it."
"What?" Regina utters distracted, lost in a memory.
"Keep it," he repeats, "you need it more than I do."
She looks at him in confusion but quickly realizes that he isn't talking about proper clothing for cold weather. He isn't talking about the weather at all.
"Thank you." She smiles genuinely now, already tearing up again. "I love you, my little prince."
"I love you too, Mom."