The Hardest Thing To Say
By Alasse Fefalas
Words. Words had always come easy to him. A little too easy. He could rant and rave and talk about multitudes of things for hours and hours and people would sometimes ignore him when he rambles. Words were always easy for him.
But not feelings. It would be harsh to say that he was jaded when he had strong feelings for less women than he had fingers, but he still considered himself jaded. Maybe it was the job, maybe it was just him, shrinking back into himself.
When Eve walked into his life, it felt like a fire had rekindled in his heart. Her kisses were warm and gentle, a fuel to the flames. He wanted to throw all of himself at her, let her in, but he was scared. He was always scared.
"I love Eve Baird!" he declared to, whom he thought at that time was Sherlock Holmes, Moriarty. It sounded good, sounded nice, like it belonged on his tongue. But he knew better. "I think I love Eve Baird," he corrected.
Too many people had come into his life just to walk away, what made her different? He could love her with all his heart, with a fire in his soul, and she might not. And so he started pulling away. Afraid of what might come next, he will always pull away, separate himself, run, hide.
"Let us help you find your way," she pleaded.
No one can help me, Eve, he thought to himself. "I know my way," he declared aloud as he prepared himself to run. Away, he thought. As much as he wanted to be with her, he could see he was falling so much further than he had before, and if she left like Nicole did, he knew he wouldn't recover. 11 years, he had been going his way. 11 years too long.
And so he ran. And he hid. Away from people, away from Eve. The Gingerbread man, Ray had called him. Always running, running away.
But the universe was cruel. It brought them back together unexpectedly. "Surprise!" the universe might have sung, as Eve mistook him for an assailant and attacked him. Even bruised, he was happy to see her. A little too happy. Eve, on the other hand, was mad (with a tint of relief that he was okay), but he couldn't peel his eyes away from her own stormy ones.
And then he found out she teamed up with Moriarty. His heart broke. Inside him, there was a little voice telling him it was just a means to an end. It was to find him, it said, but he wouldn't listen. He couldn't listen. His mind was shouting, "run, run, RUN!" and he obeyed.
Even when he knew all the troubles she had gone through to find him. Even when he knew she would have sacrificed her own life to save the Library. Even when he knew his running away would hurt her again, because he knew. He knew he loved her too much. And he knew he was afraid to ask if she loved him back.
And so he left. Without a kiss nor a hug and only the slightest of touch, he ran. He was good at that, running. But sometimes he would come running back, quietly. Small, hushed arguments with Jenkins, and leaving again. The caretaker not approve of his sneaking around, and he didn't care. He would watch from afar, hiding away. Sometimes, he would feel like running up to her, to hold her, apologise, but he couldn't. Words, the things that usually came easy for him, were so hard to articulate.
I miss you (but I'm afraid you didn't miss me too).
I care for you (but I'm afraid you see me equal to the rest).
I love you (but I'm afraid you don't love me back).
But one day, he came back. He saw a picture on her desk. There, framed in the photo, was Eve and him. Smiling. He felt his heart jump. Maybe, just maybe, she missed him too.
Courage in his heart, he told himself he had to return. He had to stop avoiding her. One last mission, and then back to her. Back to his Guardian. And he went, steps lighter than it had been in months, smile as bright as the sun.
But alas, the universe was cruel. He had returned, but things had changed. "Curveball!" the universe must have shouted gleefully, when Eve didn't recognise him. It must have laughed harder when Moriarty kissed her, in front of him. He wanted to run, run far away when he saw that, but he was better, he was wiser. He knew there was something wrong. He knew he had to save her (them).
Working with Ariel, he brought them back to the Library. He still hadn't figured out how to defeat the spell, but he had to try something. And then he remembered the stories. His mother loved fairy tales, and his father always had magical stories. What if they were real?
And so he kissed her, praying with all his heart, it would work. And it did. True Love's Kiss. His love for her was true and deep, it broke the curse fully.
But magic had its wicked ways. It released her and took him instead. But just as he broke her curse, she broke his. Through True Love's Kiss. The fire in his heart raged on, fuelled by the acknowledgement. He wanted to tell her then, but it wasn't the time. Another time, he told himself, in the future.
But the future wasn't where they went. To the past, and possibly never to return to the present. He watched her fall into the well, pushed down by Prospero's magic. Not another one, he thought, I can't lose another. Pinned down by Prospero's magic, he felt his strength suddenly renewed, and a wave of love wash over him. In his hand was Excalibur, handed to him by Eve.
They never did discuss her sudden transformation nor how Excalibur was given to her. Magic has its ways, he told her, and she accepted it, just as she had accepted everything else ever since she stepped into the world of magic.
They kept their mind to the task, to return to the present, keeping to themselves about each other. Time was precious, and they knew it would take a long time if they started talking.
But he couldn't help it. Shakespeare read the words, and he felt the magic turn his legs into rock, and he couldn't help it. If they didn't survive, he had to at least let her know. So he held her in his arms and dipped her. His eyes blazed with the fire of his love, locked onto hers, and he kissed her.
For 400 years, he kissed her. And she remembered it all.
And finally, that night, in her arms, he said it. The hardest thing he had ever said. It was hesitant, it was soft, and so unlike how he usually spoke. But he said it.
"I love you."
And her words, oh how he smiled when he heard them. It was worth it. All the months of running, of avoiding, of fearing, had all come to an end, in the best way possible. In her arms, her lips to his ears, and her skin against his skin.
"I love you too."
Fin.
A/N: Angsty Flynn, but with a happy ending. I've been wanting to write angsty Flynn for a while now and it's finally done! I even made it harder for myself because I was doing it in a different style. I was trying to get into Flynn's way of thinking. Random, halting, but still flowing. Not to sure if I got it, hmmm.
Anyway, I hope you liked it! Leave me a note and tell me what you think about it! (Especially about the different style.) Thanks for reading!