Because apparently the only thing I can write is Emma realizing she's in love with Regina and it hurting.
It wasn't even that she was in love with her.
Because she wasn't. It was too soon for that.
No, it wasn't that she was in love with her.
It was that she could be, had the potential to be and that nothing would ever come of it.
It was that she could see it; the way she was softer around her, the way 'Miss Swan' came out affectionate now, the way she was becoming freer with her touch.
And then there were her eyes.
They'd always been so expressive. When her face was that cool mask, her eyes. Her eyes told a different story. The whole story. Her story.
Emma'd always found her eyes to be the most beautiful thing about her.
Always.
Even when she'd hated her. Maybe hate wasn't the right word.
Even when she'd wanted to keep Henry from her because she thought she didn't love him. When she thought that maybe she couldn't love at all.
Oh, but she can. She can love. She loves with every single part of her.
And that's why it's not that she was in love with her.
Because she isn't. It's too soon for that.
It's that she thinks Regina may be in love with someone else.
It's that she thinks Regina would stay with him even if she wasn't.
It's that when Regina loves, she loves with everything and if she gives her everything to Robin then she can't give anything to Emma.
Because he's her soulmate, her happy ending.
And Regina deserves that.
Emma wants her to have that.
She just thinks that maybe she wants to be the reason for it. Wants to be Regina's happy ending.
It comes as a fleeting thought, something that jars Emma, something that makes her see Regina in a different light, see everything in a different light.
She'd seen the page, torn up and taped back together, and at first she was just wholly confused; completely taken aback because this wasn't Regina's story.
It wasn't at all but here's this page and so she turns and asks Regina.
And it was the look on her face, the way she'd uttered 'wait, don't', the resignation in her voice coupled with the longing, the sadness, the defeat. The still barely there, apprehensive, hope for it.
For Robin. For that happiness with him.
And it hits Emma; something quick and swift. But it wasn't a whisper. It was a scream. And it had her reeling, frantically fumbling to maintain the sympathetic, platonic care on her face.
I could be your happy ending.
And she'd never really thought of Regina in that way. Was she gorgeous? Yes. Did Emma sometimes fantasize about shutting her up with a hard kiss? Yes.
But sexual attraction and happy endings are two completely different things.
They may go hand in hand but they're on different ends of the spectrum. One leads to the other, yes. But one's just a beginning and one is the beginning of something more, more than just sexual attraction, more than transient fantasies.
Happy endings were true love and soulmates and good morning kisses and gentle touches and forever… and Emma's not sure she's ready for that.
Emma's not sure she's ready for that with the man she's with now let alone with Regina.
But it keeps running through her head. It won't stop. And it seems to be getting louder, rooting deeper, becoming more resolute, more. And it's maddening.
Because she isn't in love with Regina. And Regina is in love with someone else.
And Emma can't be in love with Regina because she's supposed to be in love with Hook.
It's maddening because she thinks her brain should have clued her in to something like this sooner.
She thinks that maybe it should have warned her sooner.
Because falling for someone like Regina very much garners a warning.
Loving someone like Regina hurts; Emma knows it will hurt. Will because no, she's not in love with her but now that she's questioning it, now that she has I could be your happy ending it will only get worse, it will only grow. And it will hurt. It will ruin her.
And when she takes a deep breath, her heart calming from its thunderous beating after seeing that Regina's okay, after locking eyes with her, after the way Regina'd looked at her – like she was realizing something too. Like maybe, just maybe something had yelled in her mind too. Or maybe it was spoken softly; she imagines words in Regina's mind are never above a whisper – she thinks maybe it might ruin Regina too.
Falling for someone like Regina is dangerous.
And Emma's mind keeps telling her this.
And she listens. She knows.
Hook's a good distraction. Hook's something sure. Something safe. Something that doesn't hurt. Something that can't ruin.
Not in the way that Regina could ruin.
So she calls Regina madame mayor, because banter with her is easy. She holds Hook's hand. Something sure.
And she goes to him after the day is done.
Because she has love, and she quiets the yelling.
Leans into the roughness of a calloused palm, the warmth of it.
She lets herself fall into deep blue eyes.
She doesn't allow herself to see dark brown.
Doesn't allow herself to feel smooth skin on her cheek.
Because she isn't in love with her. It's too soon for that.
Nothing will ever come of it.
She quiets it.
She wonders how long until she no longer can.
