I'm not very happy with this. Nor do I really know what I wrote but I hope you enjoy nonetheless.
Regina cuts her hair, because the memory is too painful.
Unbeta'd- all mistakes are my own.
I don't own OUAT
Robin loved the mornings- the way the sun rose, basking everything in a warm glow. The dew on the grass, shimmering like stars. He loved listening to the birds sing, it was refreshing, comforting.
Regina used to like mornings too, it was a time for her and Robin. To talk, to lose each other in each other's company, exploring every crevice, kissing every scar, cleansing themselves for the day ahead. Now, now mornings were her worst enemy. They were painful. The sunlight once magical now exposed the harshness of the world. The bird's song, now an unwelcome alarm. At night she could pretend, that life wasn't cruel. That her dream was real. The day was less kind.
Today was particularly bad; summer was fading into autumn, Robin's favourite season. Regina watched the leaves gradually turn brown, decaying slowly. She thought life was like the seasons- spring- the season of hope, new beginnings, where promises are made. Summer the season of fulfilment, where love blooms and the sun shines, sure things go wrong, it rains on the one bank holiday, everyone crowds to the park at the same time, but all life's problems seem somehow less significant. Then autumn comes, and it's strange because you are never quite comfortable- the sweaters start of cosy then become stifling by the end of the day. You indulged in spiced coffee; you lounged around but were waiting for more. The beauty of the golden colours eclipsed by the gradually colder weather. The only really highlight was Halloween, a night of fun before the bleak mid-winter. Winter was the dark aspects of life. It was cold and unforgiving. Offering no cheats, no hidden agendas. It claimed its victims. It was not all bad; Christmas broke the season up, offering warmth and love in an otherwise lonely time.
Regina shook herself from her thoughts, making her way to the bathroom. In the glass she saw a strange reflection, was that lonely woman really her? She stared at her now shoulder length hair, wispy waves framing her face; subconsciously she tucked the stubborn strand behind her ear.
She grabbed the pair of kitchen scissors. She couldn't live with the memories anymore.
She began to cut, watching her locks fall. She couldn't help but wonder what Robin would think, would he think her stupid, would he mock her, would he like it, able to kiss her without any restriction.
Each lock, strand a smile shared, a kiss, familiar laughter. A reminder of a better time
She remembered the first time he'd done that, back in the missing year. It had been Henry's birthday and she had shut herself from the rest of the group, wanting to be alone. To cry, to mourn. He had bought her some dinner, placed it down on the table. He hadn't said anything. Just offered her a shoulder to lean on, gently playing with her hair, a sign of affection she had never experienced before. She or rather the Queen had wanted to brush him off with a well-timed comment but instead she found herself longing for the touch. She had finally felt safe.
He did it next, that night in the vault, gently parting her hair, tucking it behind her ear, so that he could offer feather light kisses on her neck. She grinned like a teenager, lost in the passion. To intent on exploring every inch of him to question such a simple gesture.
She recalls asking him why? He merely replied because you hide yourself away, behind a fiery exterior. When I kiss you there, you are vulnerable, you don't think just feel. Damn him and his way to be cheeky and yet somehow utterly charming. She didn't know how to respond so she let herself feel, kissing him passionately. She was quite a good kisser after all.
She remembers the time he had tied her hair up, gently to the side, she had been scared, that somehow she wasn't good enough. That she was evil, and nothing more. He had whispered that she was the furthest thing from a monster.
She remembers picking up the habit, after he left, it became a ritual. Thinking he would somehow return. Closing her eyes, believing it was him.
Dreams can only last so long. She grabbed the pair of kitchen scissors. She couldn't live with the memories anymore.
She cut until her shoulder length became a sophisticated, if a little harsh bob. She realised now she looked like the mayor again, not Regina, her features hardened. Her walls that had been knocked down now up high again. Her eyes, red rimmed, her cheeks stained. She was tired- no exhausted. Exhausted of being alone. Exhausted of hurting. Exhausted of missing him.
She turned towards the door, towards familiar laughter. She wanted to scream. She wanted to be angry. She wanted him to be mad. She could never be mad at him for long. How could she when he'd managed to steal his heart. She loved him. She loved him but only on her own.
Thank you for Reading. Please let me know what you think