With his hands tucked deeply into the pockets of his overcoat, Rumald strolled along the sidewalk, looking out over the harbour on his right. He had spent most his afternoon out of the shop, paying friendly visits to his debtors, reminding them he required full payment at the end of the month. Making those little visits were a highlight for Rumald. Seeing their faces when he turned up the heat a little, threatening to take back whatever he had given. However, as he had made his rounds, Rumald kept being troubled by his thoughts. A little voice would tell him: the man she would want would not do this. He would not take satisfaction in the others misery. The man she should have been with would be courageous, understanding and kind. Not a man, who leveraged people into deals, hurt them and used them for his own agendas. Though, he thought that man also should not be vain and arrogant, much like Gaston.
Further up the sidewalk, Rumald spotted the dance studio and was tempted to turn towards Main Street, and head back to the safe haven of his shop. No matter how much he pleaded with himself, his feet carried him in the direction of the dance studio, unwavering in pace. His body and heart were in agreement. Rumald was going to the dance studio, whether he liked it or not.
He paused outside the studio, looking up at the building, before he reached for the handle on the glass door and entered the dance studio. Mal was sat behind the reception desk as usual, filling her nails with a colourful nail file. Walking across to the reception desk, aimed to slingshot the desk for the stairs behind it, Rumald was mid stride when a long forgotten voice called his name.
"Gold." She called from the doorway of the studio on his right.
Rumald pivoted to face her. "Zelena."
Seeing her stood there, filled him with mixed emotions. She was Cora's eldest daughter, who Cora had been given away, when she married Regina's father. The sisters did not meet until they were in their late teens. A chance meeting at a dance competition, where Zelena had recognised her mother from a picture and had been brave enough to face her mother, stupidly thinking her mother would greet her with open arms. Instead, Cora had pushed her away and left her stood in the middle of the dance hall, whilst dragging Regina away from the tall red head. The incident did not persuade Zelena to give up pursuing her mother and had enrolled herself into Rumald's dance class, knowing her mother would be attending. Rumald wished he had thrown her out, when he had found out who she was, but he had felt sorry for her at the time. He understood all too well, what it felt like to be abandoned by a parent. Although, Zelena seemed to think they had several things in common and had felt a need to proclaim her love for him.
"I thought I saw you last week." Zelena confessed to him, stepping out from the studio, leaving her class to practise their steps.
"Indeed." Rumald looked at her class through the glass, seeing a couple of their faces watching them.
Zelena gestured towards the dancing children. "I teach the kids."
"That's nice, dearie." He responded clasping his hands in front of him, wanting to run for the door.
"I was surprised when Regina said you'd be covering her evening class." Rumald glimpsed at Mal as Zelena spoke, remembering she had said the same thing the week before. "Seeing as you vowed never to teach again."
Lifting his shoulders at her and letting them fall, Rumald replied. "She twisted my arm."
"She can be very persuasive." Zelena grinned at him as she spoke.
"Yes, I'm well aware." Rumald let his lips twitch into a short smile, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.
Zelena took another step, standing about four feet from him. "It would be nice to catch up. Maybe, we could grab drink after your class?"
"I'm not sure that would be a good idea, dearie." He grimaced at her invitation.
"It's been so long, though." She edged closer to him. "Surely, one drink wouldn't hurt?"
Opening his mouth to make her well aware of how he felt about going for a drink with her, Rumald heard the door to the dance studio open behind him and looked over to the door to see Belle enter the reception. His brow raised up his forehead and he smiled, grateful for the interruption. Zelena followed his gaze and they both watched Belle approached them, who was unsurely looking between the two of them.
"Hello." Belle greeted them as she came close to Rumald and stood near him.
"Miss French," Rumald bowed his head slightly at her and lied. "You're early."
"I am?" She twisted her wrist to look at her watch.
Putting a guiding arm around her, Rumald led her on a path towards the stairs, saying. "Sorry, Zelena. Another time, maybe?"
He put a bit more pressure onto Belle's back, causing her to give him a questioning look as they hurried up the stairs to their usual studio. Crossing the threshold together, Rumald halted inside the doorway and closed the glass door, peering down into reception to see Zelena stood exactly where they had left her.
"What was that about?" Belle asked from somewhere behind him.
Waiting for Zelena to re-join her class, Rumald answered as he turned around. "A very well timed escape."
"That bad?" She questioned with a smile, amused by his obvious discomfort.
"Let's just say, mistakes in your past, have a funny habit of catching up with you." He shared with her, shrugging his overcoat from his shoulders, whilst he crossed the room to the sound system.
Depositing his overcoat and suit jacket onto the stool as usual, Rumald bent over the sound system and selected the quickstep playlist. The music started up as he straightened his waistcoat with a tug and went to the middle of the room. Belle had already deposited her handbag to the floor and was laying her coat on top of her bag, when Rumald came to a stop in the middle of the room.
"Is Mr Phipps joining us today?" Rumald asked, secretly hoping the answer was 'no'.
Belle's eyes went wide for a second. "Gaston?"
Fascinated by her shock expression, he gestured with a hand towards the doorway of the studio. "Your fiancé? Is he joining us tonight?"
"Gaston!" She said loudly, clarity dawning on her. "Oh, no, he's away with the team tonight."
He knew he was smiling at her. The fact she had forgotten about her fiancé was his reason for smiling. Not because they would be alone together for two hours. He would take no pleasure in the next two hours. It would be two hours of hell with this beautiful woman, who demanded he grovel down at her feet, expressing his gratitude for allowing him in her presence.
As she approached him, Rumald held his hand out for her take, saying. "We're going to be doing the quickstep tonight." Placing her hand in his hand, Rumald's hand began to tingle under her touch. "It's similar to the foxtrot, but has a quicker tempo."
"Quicker." She repeated, nodding her head in recognition.
"The steps are slow, quick, quick, slow." He latched his thumb over the back of her hand and held his other hand out to her, inviting her to come closer. "As we do the steps, we'll do a quarter turn to the right and progress into a progressive chasse." Rumald explained, placing his hand just under her left shoulder blade.
"Progressive chasse." Belle said to herself, her gaze down on her feet.
Dipping his hand between them, Rumald brought her face up to meet his gaze with his finger under her chin. "Head up. Don't look at your feet."
"Don't look at your feet." She echoed his words with her eyes coming up to meet with his.
The world seeped away as he looked at her, hearing only the thud of his heart. The bobble in his pocket burned against his leg, while he fought to keep his mind off of her beauty. He took a breath before he took a step into the dance, keeping his mind on the bobble in his pocket. It was hard to keep his concentration on the bobble. Dancing with her was effortless. Their movements were in sync. Belle trusted him explicitly as he guided her backwards.
"Is that good?" Belle asked him, as they floated around the room together.
Rumald swallowed at the lump in his throat. "Very good."
She smiled at him. "I wish my mum could see me. We used to dance around the living room together."
"Really?" He asked, captivated by her sharing something personnel with him.
"Yeah," Her smile took on a sadness as she spoke. "We used to put on Disney films and dance to the songs."
Rumald sensed there was something more to the story. "I take it, she's not around anymore."
Her gaze dipped from his for a second and he knew he had touched a nerve. "She died."
"I'm sorry to hear that." He slowed their pace. "It's nice you have memories of her though. I don't have any of my own mother." Rumald shared with her, surprising himself.
Sharing things for Rumald was hard. He felt very uncomfortable, especially if what he had to share was personal. Rumald had learnt from an early age to play his cards close to his chest. Not letting anyone see behind his persona, only showing them what he wanted them to see. Rumald had not thought much about sharing personnel details with her. Of course, this was because she would never be his, so why waste his breath with such things.
"That has to be hard." She told him, her face full of sadness.
Rumald stopped dancing with her, but remained holding her close, as he said. "Not really. You can't miss something that you never had."
Even as he said it, Rumald knew this statement was wrong. He would regret missing an opportunity to be with her after Gaston and her were married. All he would have, would be dreams of a life that never came to pass. Dreams of waking up beside her, stroking a piece of hair from her face, waiting for her to wake up naturally, so he could be the first thing she would see in the morning. Fantasies of coming home from work, finding she had cooked dinner and was eagerly waiting for him to come home. Illusions of passionate nights, driving each other to edge and back, her screams loud enough for the neighbours to be concerned.
The bobble in his pocket was scorching his leg. A burning reminder, he had drifted off into his own little world. A quick shake of his head and Rumald used his hold around her to urge her to step back, restarting their dance. They danced in silence, listening to the music, while their eyes held each other.
As they lapped the room for a second time, Rumald praised her. "You're doing wonderfully well."
"Thank you." Belle smiled. "You're a good teacher."
His heart swelled with her compliment and returned her smile, feeling a heat wash over his cheeks. As they turned and started the steps over again, Rumald noticed the space between them had narrowed. He was very aware of her closeness, while they danced, and briefly diverted his eyes to check the distance between them.
"Excuse me," She said jovially to him, slipping her hand from his shoulder to tap under his chin. "Eyes up. Don't look at your feet."
Rumald chuckled bringing his eyes up to meet hers, cocking an eyebrow at her. "Really, dearie?"
"Eye contact is very important." Belle feigned her seriousness, struggling to keep a straight face as she responded to him.
"Aye," His brogue thickened and he was sure, he felt a shiver travel through her body. "Very important."
The playlist came to a stop as they started the steps over again. They both looked over to the sound system together, stunned it had come to a stop. Looking from the sound system to each other, Rumald noticed the time on the wall.
"Wow," He muttered and let go of her hand to point to the clock. "It's just turn seven."
"Really?" Belle spun round to look at the clock on the wall.
Rumald flung his hand in the direction of the clock, saying. "Time flies when you're having fun."
She twisted to see him over her shoulder. "Are you having fun?"
With a sly smile, he pursed his lips pretending to think about it. "Not really."
"Oh, come on." Belle placed her hands on her hips, turning to face him. "Aren't you enjoying teaching again?"
"It's been a pleasure, Miss French." Rumald inclined himself forward, bowing to her, meaning every word.
With a giggle, Belle curtesy to him, shaking her head at the stupidity of the situation. He straightened his back, admiring her smile, revelling in the fact she was smiling because of him.
"I better get going." Belle informed him, wandering over to her coat and bag. "I'm meeting Ruby again to do some last minute wedding planning."
"Sounds… delightful." He murmured, disliking the reminder she would never be his.
Belle let out a small groan, collecting her things from the floor, saying. "Not really." She stood up to look at him. "Ruby's trying to convince me to change the colour of the bridesmaid dresses from light blue to red."
"Red?" Rumald queried.
"Yeah, I know." Belle shrugged her eyebrows at him before hooking her thumb towards the door. "I got to go. See you on Tuesday."
"Yes." He forced a smile, though he did not feel it. "Night, Miss French."
She paused at the door to look him. "Goodnight, Mr Gold."
Giving her a small wave of his hand as farewell, Rumald watched her start down the stairs and slowly disappeared out of a sight. He was tempted to chase after her, beg her to give him a chance, take pity on him and let him into her life. It was with this thought, Rumald decided he had to be honest with him. He had fallen hard for her. Rumald did not just want her in his life, he needed her to be in his life. However, like he had told himself before, Rumald would not corrupt her. She had made a promise to Gaston, accepted his ring and that would be a deal she would have to break on her own. If she had found happiness with Gaston, then he would learn to accept the fact, she was marrying an arrogant son-of-a-bitch, who did not even comprehend how special and amazing she was.