This is sort of a hybrid between a oneshot and a songfic. So it's like a onefic? A songshot? I don't know. Whatevs. Anyway! The lyrics are in italics and thoughts are in parenthesis. ALL the shotouts to beeeinyourbonnet for being such a cool beta. :D
Disclaimer: I don't own the song my fic refers to or the show it's based on. Seriously, though. I'm just a fangirl with a wicked imagination.
He still ordered coffee for two. He'd sit down on his side of the booth and stir creamer into his coffee with a heavy heart as he waited to hear a question that'd never come.
But he waited for it nevertheless. Day after day, week after week, until he found whole seasons changing, blurring together in the wake of her absence. Belle had built up a wall around her heart in the months before they'd started dating. He'd never been able to tear it down, not even after what felt like a lifetime of trying to figure out how. It wasn't enough. He wasn't enough.
She'd gone to Boston to get her head straight, and he'd hoped her heart would follow. She'd told him that she'd gone back to university, gone back to what she loved the most - literature. He should've been happy that she'd done such a brave thing against everyone else's wishes. He should've been happy that bravery followed her in the months she'd been gone, should've been happy that her work gave her the strength to pursue her dreams. Getting a masters degree took time, so it shouldn't have surprised him when she stopped calling. It shouldn't have shaken his hope that she'd ever come home (home to him) when she stopped writing. But it hurt. He didn't like admitting it very often, but it hurt like a burn that wouldn't heal, a fracture that wouldn't settle. (He'd grown to thinking that maybe she was looking for something more than her dreams - that maybe she was looking for a man who was younger and stronger and willing to help her see them through, the way he hadn't been able to.)
As he stirred his creamer into his coffee, he found his eyes straying to the door when it chimed again. Always, straying to the door. Always, hoping it was her. He didn't look for long, on most days; he didn't want to face the bitter taste of disappointment, or the subtle sting of another day gone by without seeing her face.
But today, Gold looked. He didn't expect to find her there; but he found his fingers shaking against his coffee cup when he saw that she was. He moved out of his seat to say something. He needed to say something.
Belle caught his gaze the moment he got up to walk towards her. She stepped out of line to meet him halfway, politely pushing past people and murmuring apologies he was sure she meant as she passed. Time could've froze in the moment she looked up into his face. Her hair gleamed golden in the light of the sun, and emotions he couldn't bring himself to name were brimming in her eyes like tears.
The how I can't recall, now I'm staring at what once was the wall separating east and west; now they meet amidst the broad daylight.
And then she really was crying and he had to still the sudden, almost desperate urge to wipe each and every tear track away with a brush of his thumb.
"I didn't think it would hurt this much, I'm sorry-" She wiped the rebel tears away with the back of her hand.
"You've nothing to apologize for, love." Gold stepped closer to her to put an arm around her shoulders; she looked unsteady on her feet, almost feverish, and even after all they'd been through, he couldn't let her fall. She whispered words of protest in his ear as he guided them back to the booth, words he heard but did not heed. He drew his arm away from her only when they parted ways to sit across from one another. Someone brought Belle the coffee she'd never gotten the chance to order over to her, disappearing like a shadow does in the sun when she tried to thank them. (He half-wondered if it was August, flitting to table to table to keep up with the morning rush.)
"Do you always start crying when you meet a man in a suit and tie in a crowded place, or is it just me?" He said after the silence grew too heavy. He was trying to crack a joke for her expense; he knew she didn't want him to see her looking so broken. He almost wished he had something to give her. Flowers, chocolates, a book, a box of tissues. Something. Anything that'd help dry her tears, even if it was only for a moment.
"It's just you," Belle said after a while, cradling her cup in her hands to try to still her shaking fingers. He could see the reflection of her face ripple as she stirred in creamer and sugar. "It's always been just you."
"Not a day goes by that I don't think about you, you know" He said as he met her eyes. They were the blue of the sea and sky on warm summer nights; he wouldn't have minded spending the next lifetime drowning in them all over again.
"And the same goes for you," Belle murmured into her mug as she stirred the whipped cream away into oblivion. She made a noise between a sniffle and a sob when she said, "but I don't think I can do this, anymore."
His bones creaked as her words settled under his skin. He pushed a hand through his hair and sighed in a way that made him feel older than he was before pushing himself to his feet. "Then you don't have to."
"No, wait." She tugged him back by the shirtsleeve. He would've pushed her fingers away and walked out of the cafe in the next heartbeat to save himself the hurt if he hadn't heard her say one quiet, desperate word: "Please."
So this is where you are; and this is where I am. Somewhere between unsure and a hundred.
It wouldn't have mattered if anyone else had said it. He would've walked away without another thought as to who he hurt. But he'd always surrendered to that word when it fell from her lips. It was like he couldn't help himself; there was something in her that made him want to go back to the very best version of himself.
There was a moment where he forgot to step back as she stepped towards him, so he found himself dizzyingly close to her as she moved away from the booth and against his chest. Belle's arms went around his shoulders to keep her balance as she stepped off the booth's riser and back onto the ground. He could feel his pulse pick up to a ridiculous level as she looked him full in the face; she was almost smiling.
Gold gave her a half smile in return and took a small step back before any wandering eyes could look their way. It wouldn't be long before the old rumors about them surged back up like a raging wind. She insisted on paying for their drinks, and he'd been prepared to refuse profusely until she gave him another soft smile and murmured a hushed "please" under her breath. When she turned away to put the receipt in her purse, he could feel someone's eyes watching them. He nudged her elbow and asked if she was ready to go, eyes trained towards the back of the cafe. She followed his gaze to the table where the mayor sat and shivered.
"Definitely," Belle said as she shrugged into her jacket.
He held the door for her as they left, trying and failing not to notice the smell of her shampoo as she passed. Cherry blossoms. He distantly wondered if she'd been going through some sort of phase since she'd moved back to Boston, wondered if she strung up Japanese lanterns all over her apartment and took her tea on a bamboo mat in the living room. And he wondered if another man (the younger, stronger one) knew how to make it just the way she wanted, in the chipped porcelain cup she'd never been able to part with.
They walked for a while without saying much. Where Gold would've found the silence stifling and uncomfortable mere months before, he welcomed the chance to get his thoughts straight, now. They'd made no real commitment to each other before she'd left. Hadn't promised they'd stay together while she was away or get back together when she came back. He'd grown to expect that he'd never see her again, so her very presence beside him was more than enough. He made sure his hand didn't stray towards hers, and she made no move to hold his. Their shoulders touched more than once as they stepped out of the way of the occasional passerby.
They walked for a long time, past all the shops downtown and the familiar curve of his street as it separated from the main road. The morning sunlight flickered between the treetops as they walked further and further away from the town's limit. The soft light of the sun weaved its way through her hair as they ascended a hill, the soft red undertones in her curls contrasting with the vivid ocean-blue of her eyes.
He held out a hand to help her step over a downed tree; she wasn't wearing the shoes for it and neither was he.
"Have I ever told you how lovely you are?" He asked as the wind stirred her hair back from her shoulders.
"No. You haven't," Belle said as she grasped his fingers tight in her own. He could see uncertainty in her eyes as she tried to get her footing; felt her other hand reach for his shoulder as she began to lose her balance. He murmured that he had her, that he wouldn't let her fall. She nodded and took a deep breath before jumping down to meet him on the forest floor. It was scattered with fallen leaves and pine needles that'd turned orange with age.
She kept hold of his fingers even after she'd made it over the maple's weatherbeaten roots, and he couldn't stop the smile that spread over his face.
"Well maybe I should start," Gold said.
"Maybe I'd like that." Her smile was just as wide in answer. It made his heart swell in his chest; how had he gone so many months without seeing her smile that way? (And dear God, did he want to see her do it again.) They found a path by the river and walked along it for a while; he found the bubbling sound of the streams beyond oddly comforting. He'd never been one for nature, but he was beginning to think it was the only thing that could compare to the beauty of the woman walking beside him.
When he bent at the waist over a patch of wildflowers, she asked what he was doing in a strangled voice.
"Are you going to puke?" She asked at his ear, a gentle hand gliding over his shoulder.
He was careful not to let the heat of her skin distract him when he said, "I'm not going to puke" in one of the most gentle voices he possessed. He murmured something about seeing a doe between the trees, and once she'd looked the other way to see what he was talking about, he plucked a tiger lily as vivid as the morning sun from its bed by his feet.
"I didn't see any deer out there, where were you-" Belle's voice melted away when she saw him holding the lily.
"Oh, Gold," She breathed as he moved to tuck the flower behind her ear. When he stepped back to look at her, he momentarily forgot how to speak; (when had she gotten this beautiful? when had he forgotten?)
"Andrew," He said as another smile settled on his face. "Please, call me Andrew."
She offered him her arm as they started walking again. The silence that settled between them was so comfortable, it was hard to find the strength to break it. There were so many things he wanted to say, needed to say, but he was afraid it would change things again. They started to stray from the trail a bit as she led him away from the river. He could feel his knee starting to give under the weight of so much exertion, but he kept on without complaint.
"You didn't bring your cane?" She slowed when she noticed the way he kept shifting his weight from foot to foot.
Andrew shook his head and said, "I've been trying to be more of the man you wanted me to be. Strong. But you were right when you said I'll never make much progress in the endeavor."
Tears brimmed in her eyes as she looked up into his face. "I was wrong, Andrew. I didn't know that I had everything I wanted right in front of me."
"Everything?" His voice was beginning to falter as a tidal wave of hope crashed over him.
She smiled through her tears. "Everything."
It's hard, I must confess, but I'm bankin' on the rest to clear away. 'Cause we have spoken everything, everything short of "I love"...
Andrew moved towards her at the same time Belle moved towards him. Her eyes were dappled with warm flecks of sunlight as she rested her forehead against his. He held her there and tried his best not to hope. His gaze flickered to her lips, and he could've sworn he caught her looking up at his. He leaned down to meet her halfway but froze before his mouth brushed hers; he couldn't do this. He shouldn't do this.
You right where you are from right where I am. Somewhere between unsure and a hundred.
When he stepped away from her, her eyes were closed like she was waiting for him to do something. Anything.
"It's okay." She moved to stand in front of him again, flashing the bare fingers of her left hand in his face. "It never got that serious with anyone in Boston."
He nodded and showed her his. "It never got that serious with anyone, here."
"So can I...?" Belle asked as she gazed up into his face. He'd stepped towards her again, pulled in like a moth to a flame.
Somewhere between unsure and a hundred.
"Yes, of course." Andrew whispered.
She leaned towards him at the same time he leaned towards her. He tried his very best to keep the kiss tender, even when she started pushing her hands through his hair to tug him down closer. He let out a noise between a laugh and a groan as she sucked on his bottom lip; if she wanted to go there, they could go there.
He threaded a hand through her hair and cupped the back of her head. Belle made a noise of encouragement as he pulled her in closer. When she did that thing with her lip again, he didn't have the breath to laugh anymore. He kissed her with his eyes open so he could guide her back against a tree. There was a moment where she opened her eyes to look at him; then their lips enveloped each other again and he remembered how good it felt to be so damn breathless.
And who's to say it's wrong? And who's to say that it's not right where we should be for now?
He could feel his head start to spin when she made a move to pull him flush against her. He wanted to ask if she'd always been this passionate about the things she cared about, but he forgot what his question was when her fingers went to the buttons on his shirt. And then there were no more words; they'd never needed them much, anyway.
She ran out of breath eventually and let herself slide down the front of the tree to the bed of grass below. Her fingers had become intertwined with his at some point during their kiss, and she tugged him down with her soon enough.
"Do you think we would've gotten married?" Belle asked as she worked on shredding a blade of grass between her fingers.
"What?" Andrew asked in the softest voice he had, not sure he'd heard her right. She smiled at the grass for his expense, shaking her head a little.
"If I had stayed..." She met his eyes as the dazzling light of the sun washed over the clearing. "Do you think we would've?"
He looked at her hand intwined in his and sighed in a way that made him feel older and younger than he was.
"No, honestly."
She nodded and looked away from him. He was worried she was going to get up to go and leave him to find his way back alone, but when she turned to face him she was smiling through tears.
"Because of your son, right?" She said gently, absently stroking his thumb with her own.
He could only nod. "I found him, you know. He...he died." He cleared his throat to distract himself from the threat of tears. "Last month."
She gave him a smile that was somewhere between soft and sad. "My dad did, too. Last week."
He moved to touch her in some way but she shook her head. "It's okay. I, uhm...I came back for his funeral."
"I tried to visit you, you know. But I was too much of a coward to go knock on your door." He pushed a nervous hand through his hair. "I don't want to do that again. I don't want to keep hiding."
So this is where you are, and this is where I am. So this is where you go, and this is where I've been. And this is where I've been.
Belle's smile was genuine now as she rested her elbows on her knees. With her chin in her hand and her eyes trained on his, she asked, "So does that mean we'll get married some day?"
"Maybe someday. But I'm afraid today is not that day." He got up from his place against the tree first, extending a hand to help her up.
She laughed into his hair when he bent to kiss her hand and he wondered how he'd managed to go all those months without hearing such a sound.
They walked back into the heart of town with intertwined hands. There was a brief second where she flirted with the idea of putting her hand in his back pocket, but must've thought better of it at the look on his face. He told her that it wasn't that he was uncomfortable with it, just that he didn't want to rush things this time. (He wanted to do it right, this time.)
One of her friends was trying out her new camera outside the coffee shop they'd vacated mere hours before. She'd been asking passerby to pose for her to see if she could get the lighting right. It didn't surprise him when she beamed at the two of them as they got closer to the shop.
"Do you think I could take a picture?"
Belle nodded first, and Andrew mimicked the movement. He was getting lost in her eyes all over again; they were gleaming a soft ocean-blue in the warm light of the sun. And he found an easy smile settle over his lips as he reached for the tiger lily in her hair. She could only smile at him when he said, "I'm not entirely sure someone so lovely should be seen with the likes of me."
Her friend - Ruby, he thought distantly - laughed, but not unkindly, and snapped a couple of pictures anyway. They continued walking down the street towards her childhood home after he promised her he'd help move some old things downstairs. She excused herself to go get them something to drink, and he busied himself by glancing through a box of things she'd said she was going to throw away. When Andrew found a set of blue and white teacups in one of the boxes she'd doomed for recycling, he felt his heartbeat stutter with hope; her cup was nowhere to be found.
He asked if she still had it in a voice that didn't sound nearly as casual as he wanted it to be. She laughed at him from the kitchen as she brought out two steaming cups of tea. He blinked in surprise when she made a move to hand him one of the cups.
"I can't take this. It's your cup," Andrew insisted. The rim was chipped just like he'd remembered; she'd dropped it when she'd tried to kiss him after dinner on their second date.
Belle grinned at him. "It's our cup."
Warmth spread over his insides like spilled honey when she said it; (he liked the sound of "ours". Liked it a lot.)
They took their tea on the floor of her parents' old living room. There were no Japanese lanterns or bamboo mats, and a good-looking man in his twenties never came out of the kitchen to try to sweep her off her feet.
Somewhere between unsure and a hundred.
He knew it wouldn't always be this calm between them, or as heated as things had gotten in the woods. But he was beginning to think he wanted everything in between those two extremes as well. Maybe they would get married someday. Maybe they wouldn't.
And he realized that they were perfectly content with the uncertainty of it all.
fin