She's angry, he knows it. She usually is when she comes in. This time is different, though. There is something raw and unkempt in the air, like a wild beast. The moment she steps into the shop he is hit with it. It feels horribly painful and sickeningly sweet at the same time. He shouldn't like it, but he does. She storms over to the counter, what he usually hides behind. It is such a normal gesture, standing behind the counter, but it means so much more. She cannot get close, never close enough. It is a barrier between them, a wall. Something indestructible, a lack of trust. They have trusted each other before, when it is necessary. Just small things, brief shows. Never has the air been this open, this emotional between them.
She cannot figure out what infuriates her so much when she looks at him, but it feels good. The fire makes her feel alive, makes her feel like she has something to do. He looks like all the bad things that have happened in her life, but what does he feel like? She cannot help but think, maybe she would enjoy loving him as much as she enjoys hating him. They can work together just as well as they can fight. The emotion in her is boiling her blood and mixing up her brain. How do you decide between anger and need? Both feelings are burning her alive.
He does not know what makes him do it, but he walks around the counter. He goes to stand in front of her, with nothing but tension between them. Why he would do it, he is not sure. Why does he do anything around her. He cannot think straight, can barely see straight. Why did she come? Why is she angry? He finds he does not care, not as long as she stays. What would he do if she left? He does not know, but he wants her to stay. So, he stands in front of her.
She does not know why it matters so much that he is standing in front of her. He just stands there and stares into her eyes. She stares back just as intensely. He is so close. She can feel his breath on her face, warm and comforting. She can feel the heat of his body. She can see the emotions playing behind his eyes. Is it a battle between them, or a confession? She does not know, just as long as he stays. She wants to get away from him as fast as possible, but she cannot move. If she moves, he will be gone. She doesn't know if she wants him to stay or go, if she wants to love him or hate him. So, she stands in front of him.
He can see her emotions swirling behind her eyes. Which ones, he does not know. They could be anything, but they are captivating. He knows she can see just as many of his emotions, but he just cannot bring himself to put up his facade. In some strange way, he takes comfort in knowing that she can see him so vulnerable and still be there. He wants her to go, but he does not want to lose the comfort of her warmth. He needs her.
She is still angry, but she forgets why. He is in front of her, showing her everything he feels. He is hurt by his past, angered by the people in it, and determined to not make the same mistakes with her. There is something else in his eyes, though. It is raw and powerful, yet guarded and painful. She does not know what it is, but it is the weakest and strongest thing she has ever seen in him. It pushes her away and pulls her closer. It tells her everything, but none of it makes sense. She nearly falls down just looking into his eyes. She wants to punch him and leave, but she also wants to kiss him and stay. She does not know which decision is right and which one is necessary.
He does not know how it happened, but he finally realizes his mistake. He has done something he said he would not do again, something unforgivable. He cannot figure out when it came into play. When did his emotions trick him? When did his heart overpower his brain? He cannot figure out why he does it. Why he cares.
They are both at a loss. Neither wants to leave, neither wants to stay. To be happy and get hurt, or to feel nothing and be saved? Walls or bridges? Mountains or beaches? Hearts or minds? How can they choose? They both know there can only be the same answer for both of them, or no answer at all.
She makes up her mind just as he makes up his, but they stay standing in the same place. Barely an inch apart, yet galaxies between them. She punches him and he stumbles back a step. Then, she grabs him by the tie and their lips meet. The warmth is overpowering. It feels safe and dangerous. Smooth and rocky. Good and scary.
It feels like love.
Emma & Rumplestiltskin