A/N: Wtf I can't believe I'm actually posting this. I think it's shite tho. But I tried. And, the longer I sat on it (it wasn't that long right? It was only like 4 years I think?) the less I liked it until I said, you know what? Fuck it. I need to get my head out of my ass and just post this shit and finish this damn story. So, here is kind of a part for it. I'm not happy just yet but fuck it. And before y'all ask, no. I have no other fandom as of right now. I don't write fics for other characters. Just Regina and Robin because they have a tight grip on me heart and me muse and I can't let it go. (Also I'm traumatized by ouat enough to not want to fall in love with any other ship lmao). Anyways. Don't hate me! This is also unbetaed so point out the many mistakes and the switching of characters like I'm prone to make!
Also, this story is almost 100k long and wtf I'm just puking out words in my non native language? Also, I'm sure this will have many plotholes but we just here for fun and for imagining REgina and Robin in all these different scenarios that we all conjure up! Soooo. Sorry for that (maybe?) I'm rambling. Okay. Enjoy now! Y'all probably don't even read these long ass author's note (I don't either :P) but still! Worth a shot! xD
A/N (2X): ALSO! Hello Eva GlindaLoveShoes again! I just pulled a Uno reverse card on you because Bishhhhh I was ALSO your secret admirer this year and I'm kinda updating a fic as your 2nd gift! SO Happy birthday (belated) and Happy Valentine's Day! I love you Eva! :')
Robin wants her to come rushing out of these doors, come and throw herself against his arms and kiss him senseless.
But she doesn't.
He puts his suitcase on the trunk amidst the driver's protests of helping him.
And he looks back, to the small complex, the flight of stairs, everything there, but most importantly, her absence.
He lost her even before he actually got to have her, really have her.
Little John's words ring in his head, no matter how hard he tries to block them.
Time's Up
But how can time be up, how can it be over if they never had it in the first place?
It's been minutes since her front door clicked closed with his absence, and she's still glued to her bed.
She's alone, but still, she's surrounded by him.
By his scent.
His release.
The sweat clinging to her like a second skin, a mix of hers and his.
She's alone, but she can almost feel his lips pressing softly against her neck, her shoulders, his touch against her skin, arm draped over her waist, fingertips caressing the taut skin of her abdomen.
But she's alone, she's alone, and instead the only evidence left of him, other than those she feels imprinted on her body, is the slight dip and warmth on the side of the bed he slept on. The same bed where he kissed, bit, caressed and loved every inch of her.
It hurt, to hear him say the words she's been dreading to hear ever since she saw him on the airport, the same sentence repeating itself in her head.
Our story ends here
It does, it ends like this.
With him leaving her like she left him almost four years ago.
Maybe if she'd listened to John all those years ago…
Maybe if she had taken a small break and allowed herself to just be like he had suggested…
Maybe
Maybe
Maybe
And that's what her life is reduced to now, a bunch of maybes and what ifs and the utter sense of guilt for being the only thing standing between her and her happiness.
But she shouldn't think of that.
No, no. Not when it's… what time is it?
Regina takes a deep breath and rolls on the bed, catching sight of the clock on her nightstand.
5:09am
She sighs and lets herself fall on her back, and swallows hard.
It's her wedding day, that much is clear, but Regina only feels disappointment filling her veins.
She should be thrilled for today. Should be overflowing with love, bursting with happiness and excitement. Yet, all she feels is… nothing, her pain muted the moment her door clicked closed.
Regina moves her head to the side, to the space he'd been on minutes ago. It's still warm, and if Regina closes her eyes, she can still feel him there, looking at her as if she's the most beautiful woman on earth, the best thing that happened to him.
Even with disappointing him.
Leaving him.
Not choosing him.
Running.
Suddenly feeling overwhelmed, Regina sits up in bed, taking in deep breaths, trying but failing to prevent herself from crying again. But once a tear falls, the others follow closely, and closely until she's pushing her hands to her face and trying to compose herself.
But she doesn't feel the cold metal brushing against her skin, and she chuckles darkly.
Goodness, it's her wedding day, and she doesn't even miss the engagement ring, the same engagement ring that she had discarded last night —it had been too much of a burden, too heavy on her lithe finger, especially when another man had been the one to kiss her, to touch her, to fuck her.
Is that how it's going to be from now on? Is she going to look at her wedding ring and think back to last night? To Robin instead of what's supposed to be the happiest day of her life? Is she going to think of her lips seeking Robin's instead of Daniel's? Is she going to think back to slow thrusts while biting on a shoulder? Of the skin of his abdomen pressing against hers as they rocked and moved together as one, kissing, touching, holding hips in place, afraid she'd disappear? Of the intensity of his bright blue eyes as they reached oblivion one after the other? Of the soft touch of his fingertips down her back?
Is this how it'll be for the rest of her life?
Comparing kisses, touches, and gasps between two men that did nothing wrong but love her?
Is she going to subject herself to this for the rest of her life?
Staying quiet in lovemaking, afraid she'd call out his name instead of her husband's? Calling out the name of the person she lost, because it's clear, it's clear she lost him.
She didn't get to have him in the past, she doesn't get to have him now.
It's as if they're always destined to be nothing more than this, nothing more than a bed warmer for each other, a good romp, because even after confessing themselves, even after begging him to make love to her, this is what they ended up being, from beginning to end, bed partners that can never act out on feelings.
Him, because he was afraid to say so and lose their friendship.
Her, because she once tried to, and Lord knows how that ended up.
Gosh, how pathetic are they?
How pathetic is she?
Regina huffs out a breath and shakes her head. It reeks of sex, of sweat, of his cologne. Her center is still wet and slightly sore, but she tries to ignore that, tries to ignore the guilt at having done this, having cheated on Daniel like this.
He doesn't deserve this.
No one deserves this.
She feels her eyes burning with tears and Regina shakes her head again, trying to quiet her thoughts.
A shower, she needs a shower, coffee, anything other than the constant reminder her bed gives her.
Yet at the same time, she feels glued to her bed, for the moment she leaves it, the moment she begins getting ready for her day…. It makes everything much more real.
Everything.
She's getting married.
She cheated on Daniel.
She lost Robin.
And those facts are all equally terrifying.
Regina swallows hard and blinks away her tears, focuses instead on the twiddling of her thumbs, that nervous habit of her, yet chuckles darkly for that little thing reminds her of Robin too, of him grabbing her hand tightly in order to help her cope with her nerves.
But he's not here now. He's not here and she feels her chest constricting, her hands trembling slightly.
He left
He left and she cannot follow
Shaking her thoughts away and taking on a deep, painful, breath, stands up from bed and sighs, looking out at the city. The sun hasn't fully risen yet, though a few birds chirp, Regina swallows hard and walks to her bathroom, grimacing as she feels the slickness between her legs, sore joints and muscles, and the utter need to climb back to bed and sleep the day away.
It's not supposed to be this way.
But this is what she wanted.
Right?
She wanted closure.
She wanted to move on.
So why can't she? Why can't she embrace this new chance of happiness with a man she cares for? Why can't she feel excited for her wedding and the prospect of starting from zero? Years ago would've been appetizing to her. The Regina of years ago would've jumped headfirst at this. So why can't she?
Sighing, Regina slips into the shower and lets the water fall down her body, down her skin, down down down, cascading down her belly to the place where she's still silk and sticky with the mix of their release.
She feels numb as she showers quickly, washes away their release with a straight face, uncaring, unthinking, not giving this a second thought, just sighing when the lukewarm water reaches her raw and hot nether regions. She washes her hair slowly, and just stares at nothing, unthinking, slathers on conditioner, washes it away.
Almost in auto mode, Regina wraps a towel around herself, brushes her hair and her teeth and walks into her room.
She ignores the clock, the chirping birds, her unmade bed and the fact that it still smells like him.
Because if she ignores it, it isn't real.
This isn't real.
But then she remembers his words.
You're the best thing that's happened to me.
And her chest constricts against the memory, her stomach flutters against the feeling and she just swallows hard and walks past her bed to her walking closet, slipping into an oversized hoodie. But then she catches sight of her dress, and growls before opening the zipper of the garment bag.
"I'm an idiot," she whispers to herself, shaking her head as she brings out the dress to let it breathe.
She should've done this yesterday, her mother had told her this weeks ago, but she didn't, for obvious reasons, and Regina sighs as she walks out her walking closet, and lets it rest against her bed before rushing into her closet again to grab a second hanger, but stops dead in her tracks.
She sees it, from the corner of her eyes, a slight burgundy and gold, and her belly does flip flops as she catches sight of it. His bowtie, his suit, what he was supposed to wear today.
A bowtie he'd made her promise she'd incinerate as soon as the celebrations were over.
A promise she'd kept, not knowing what he'd meant at the time.
But she sees it now.
His fucking bowtie.
Her incinerating it.
He'd never meant to spend time here other than what was socially acceptable. He had been planning to see her married, maybe a funny toast, but that had been it. And her heart constricts in pain and guilt.
He'd come all the way from England, to see her get married, hiding his own feelings, his own heartbreak, until last night.
Last night.
When they'd both confessed themselves. When she'd begged him to make love to her. When she'd surrendered herself to his kisses, his love, him, like she wanted to for years.
Maybe if she
Maybe she could
Maybe
Maybe
Maybe
Does she really want her life reduced to that?
And yet.
She can't go back.
No.
He hates her, she's sure of it. How can he not? How can he not hate her when she's done what she's done? When she's hurt him deeply enough to push him away? When she's hurt him enough he went away? When he's convinced himself that she's not the same person she was? That their time is over, that it had been over for a long time but they were too afraid to accept that.
God, she's hurt him badly, and that knowledge combined with the guilt she feels at walking outside of her bed, away from her could've been wedding dress, away from her could've been happy wedding day, is enough to bring tears to her eyes again as she rushes past her front door, halls, streets, steps, trash.
She just keeps walking.
Walking
Walking
Her chest constricting a little bit more with every step she takes.
But she shouldn't cry.
She shouldn't feel this.
She should be angry at him.
Happy for her wedding.
Today should've been ruled by smiles and giddy stomach and nervousness along with the insanely excitement at the new new chapter in her life.
But it hasn't been, it won't be. Instead it's filled with the grief of losing what she's hold on dear to her for so long.
So she walks, and walks. Walks around streets she knows by heart and then she's sprinting, her chest and throat tightening as she inches closer and closer to the onyx black door. She takes a deep breath, trying to compose herself but it comes out in a shaky exhale before she's knocking, and knocking and her thoughts are getting the best of her, and he left? He left. She can't do this. So she knocks, and calls her friends name desperately, not caring that it's the early hours of the morning and her friend is probably sleeping.
But she just can't stop thinking.
Feels overwhelmed, feels overexposed, feels guilty, stupid, stupid girl, and she had said, Mal had said, had nearly begged her to come to her if something happened. If something went wrong. If she got cold feet. (Is this the so called cold feet?)
Come to her.
"I can't do it," Regina blurts out, nearly yelling, when Mal opens the door to her house, yawning and with half lidded eyes.
But those words are enough to wake the blonde woman, fully now, has her eyes growing as big as saucers, mouth agape as she asks, "What?"
"Mal, I can't go through with it," Regina whispers more quietly, and she can't breathe, she can't, can't get married, can't face Daniel, can't face the truth that has been there right from the beginning.
Mal didn't want her with him.
Robin didn't want her with him.
Did she really want to be with him in the first place?
Oh God
Her chest tightens even more, throat constricting as she tries, God damn it, to get some air, to breathe, to fill her lungs that are aching for a breath of fresh air.
But Mal is suddenly pulling her inside into a hug.
"Honey breathe with me, come on," Mal says as she closes the front door behind her, and walks with Regina to her living room, her hand going up and down her back trying to comfort her. "You've done this before, come on. Breathe in, and breathe out," Mal whispers sitting Regina on the couch and guiding her through her breaths and Regina follows, wide eyed as she tries and tries to regulate her breathing without feeling like her chest will explode.
"That's it," Mal whispers softly, smiling softly at her friend as the dark haired woman slows down her breaths and the tightening and releasing of her fists.
It takes her a moment to register what just happened, but Regina just stays there, rooted in place, her friend's arm rubbing circles on her back.
"I can't get married," she whispers on a frown as if only now she's realizing this a tear escaping her left eye but she just angrily swipes it away with the back of her hand suddenly feeling angry.
Angry at herself.
Angry at him.
How dare he? How dare he just ups and leaves and claims their story is over? That this is how it ends? Because Regina might be a stupid stupid girl at times but this, this doesn't feel like it's fucking over. Does it? Is it?
It can't.
Can it?
"Listen, as happy as hearing this makes me," Mal begins, pulling her from her train of thoughts. "I need to understand what the fuck is happening," Mal asks, confusion evident in her voice.
But Regina just stares at the blonde woman, still shocked and angry and still processing the events of this morning, hell, of these past few days. Days? Has it really been just days? Regina just shakes her head and scoffs.
"He said it's over. He left," Regina begins, her gaze moving downwards to her fingers and she's scratching the corner of her nails now and shaking her head because of course her thoughts go to Robin and not Daniel when she's answering the question. "I screwed up badly Mal," she whispers then, her breath coming in short again but Mal is shaking her head and leaning in closer to her.
"Hey, hey, unless you murdered someone, there's always a way to fix things."
And Regina just meets her gaze again, and shakes her head.
"I slept with Robin," she whispers after a pause.
"What?!" Mal near shout, her eyes big as saucers and Mal is near hyperventilating herself, would pour them some wine if it wasn't only almost 7am in the morning.
"I asked him to make love to me Mal," her friend begins wide eyed and shaking her head. "He's loved me all along and I... I.. I screwed up, Mal," Regina whispers and breathes in and out and the tears are finally falling, falling, falling and she can't wipe them away, refuses to because now all she wants to do is talk. Talk. Release all the things that are plaguing her mind and so she just goes on. "And the thing is, I accept it. I screwed up badly. He so wanted me to call the wedding off and I couldn't, I froze, I couldn't answer Mal. And he's gone and I realized I can't get married. I can't walk down an isle on a pretense. For God's sake I cheated on Daniel with my maid of honor, who does that? Who does that?! And he just left and I can't fix this. There's no way of fixing-"
"Can't be fixed? Or don't want to fix?" Mal blurts out at the last sentence, frowning at her friend.
"No, don't start with me now Mal. No. It's the last thing I need," Regina near begs her.
But Mal just shakes her head and scoffs at Regina.
"You know, one time someone told me that life is about the decision we make. The decisions that we don't make, the choices that we don't make, still stay with us in our deepest regrets. And you know, something, sometimes they keep coming to you time after time, testing you, until you finally get it right."
And Regina calms down now, and just breathes in and out as she lets her head rest on the back of the couch and just stares at the ceiling, and on a soft voice she asks, "But what is right?"
Mal just sighs and leans on her side on the couch, head resting on her forearm that's propped on the back of the sofa. "Honey that's an answer only you know. I do know something though. I know that if you don't make a choice today, you're going to go around in circles, and the closure that you so desperately seek will not be in your hands."
"You're not making any sense," Regina mutters, confusion evident on her face as she bites on her lower lip.
"All I'm saying is. If life is all about the choices that we make, then you can't grovel or stay on your ass all day moping over something that you're not even that brave to pursue. If you want something, If you want your life to be a certain way, you grab it by the balls and make it yours."
"But what if I get it wrong again?" Regina asks, that vein on her forehead visible as she tries to hold back the near sobs that are begging to escape her.
"Regina, all the best things in life are scary."
But Regina just looks at the ceiling again and shakes her head.
So Mal just smiles sadly at her friend and murmurs. "Besides," she begins on a shrug. "Does it really feel like it's wrong?"
It, that's what they're calling it now. But Mal knows, oh she knows.
But Regina is shaking her head at her friend and jus scrambling for reasons and justifications in her mind. Like she always does and, "I already built a decent life here, I have a wonderful job thanks to you. I have friends. Henry. I can't just leave all of this behind."
But Mal simply rolls her eyes as she says, "Yes you can. You've done it twice in your life."
Yes. Twice. Once when she traded New York for London. And the second time when she came back.
"That's—"
"Entirely similar, a few years in difference," Mal interrupts her.
But Regina can't.
He left.
Their story is over.
"I can't. He probably doesn't want to see me again. Heck, I'd never wanna see me again."
And Mal just chuckles and rolls her eyes at her friend for the umpteenth time. "So, let me get this straight", Mal begins, an amused smile on her face as her friend meets her gaze for the umpteenth time that early morning. "The man traveled a thousand miles away, swept you off your feet in less than two weeks and slept with you. He traveled from England to New York to watch you get married all the while trying to hide his feelings for you and you think that, what," she checks her watch, "two hours out of today has changed his feelings for you?"
"Mal—"
"No," Mal suddenly says, shaking her head as she stands up, looking at her friend as if she grew a second head. "You know what? You are fired."
"What?" Regina near blurts.
"No. I've had enough of your nonsense. You are fired. Which means that as of right now you're unemployed, tight on money due to a wedding you didn't even attend to, which means that you're blessedly single, in serious need of a roommate aka Emma who since day one loved your apartment which means she'll be more than happy to buy it and send Henry to visit you over the holidays. Which therefore means that as of right now, nothing, I repeat, nothing but yourself is keeping you here."
Regina scoffs and looks around the blonde's living room, incredulous, because this would fucking happen to her. Mal would fucking do this to her.
But Mal isn't having it, instead she firmly calls out her name again and raises an eyebrow defiantly. "So, what's your choice today Regina?" She begins, a hand on her hip and the beginning of a grin on her face. "Are you going to mop around all your life? Or are you going to own up to it, grab it by the balls and finally fucking do something about it once and for all?"
The loft feels too empty, too quiet, too much.
Jesus, he needs to get out.
Needs a moment as far away as possible from picture frames, from memories, from their way too many almost.
It's too much, he still feels her desperation, her soft kisses against his neck as she rode him slowly towards oblivion, feels her palm encompassing his, then looking at him straight in the eyes, giving him the answer he needed but wasn't expecting.
So much for fucking closure.
So much for moving on from a stage of his life he isn't quite ready to let go of yet.
Pathetic.
Absolutely pathetic, to lay down in bed in the wee hours of the night and just think about her, think about having her just as her husband is probably having her right now. He looks at the clock on his bedside table and groans. She's already Mrs. Pace, is already on her way to a memorable honeymoon with the man she chose to spend the rest of her life with.
He can't keep doing this to himself.
He needs to forget about her, forget about them, forget about the fact that he almost had her, had he gone with his gut all those years ago, had he gone home to her after a week of not seeing her instead of bringing a new (old) girl to their place. If only he had been brave enough to tell her of his feelings.
If only.
But now this is all he'll have for a long time, quiet nights on an empty bed and an empty apartment. Yet he can't handle the quiet now. Not today. No. He needs loud music, tons of people, and a heck lot of alcohol.
As many distractions as he can afford.
It's one am when he reaches his pub, and it cannot be more filled with people. Killian is focusing on a lady in front of him at the bar, smirking and winking at the woman as he refills her cup with dark ale, before the dark haired man walks to wipe a spot on the counter. He moves closer, feeling his throat tighten up at the few memories he shares with Regina of this place, after hours, drunk sloppy sex behind the bar counter minutes after closing for the night. Killian catches sight of him from the other side of the bar, walking towards him.
"Bloody hell mate-"
But Robin shakes his head, "Not now," he says, and instead nods to the back of the low lit room, at where his office is. He nods at Will who gives him a gentle smile before he's turning to head into the back of the room, through the double set doors, makes a right and reaches his office.
It's almost the same as when his father gave the pub to him. The dark mahogany desk in the far end of the room, dark green leather couch on his left, the lamp next to it. He walks towards the couch, swallowing the lump that just doesn't seem to leave him the fuck alone. He feels the sadness cling to the corner of his eyes again, but he swallows again, reaching for a glass on the table next to the couch, and the bottle of scotch he keeps in a drawer for a rainy day.
He drinks one glass quickly in a gulp before he's pouring himself a second one, and this time he just stares at the amber liquid in his glass as he sits on the couch. Quiet and slowly, he sips his drink, trying to block out his thoughts, his feelings, his memories.
Her
Because he's done it before. He can certainly do it again.
Can certainly chase away the feeling of her with a sip of scotch.
Chase the taste of her, that he swears he can still feel on his lips, with another drink.
But deep down he's afraid all that is for naught. Because really, how could he ever forget her? How can he forget her?
Robin doesn't know how long he stays that way, all he knows is that he spent a great deal of time because the band has stopped playing, and instead slow music travels from the speakers.
And he swears he can imagine her dancing to this. Daniel holding her in his arms as he just watches from afar. No. He's not there. Thankfully he came back here. Because he wouldn't have been able to handle it. No. And really? What on earth even possessed him to think he could?
Another glass of scotch comes, another glass goes, and he keeps it on until the door to his office opens to his right suddenly and for a moment he can hear Killian say something in that thick accent of his before the door closes again, muffling the sounds traveling from the bar. So he ignores it, blames it all on the excitement of having Robin around again and he just reaches for the glass again.
He's about to pour himself the amber liquid when—
"Robin," the voice whispers softly from his right and his head immediately turns to it, to her, his heart doing flip flops at seeing her, here, standing a few feet away from him.
But life isn't a movie, and Regina isn't really standing there, looking like she's two seconds away from a breakdown.
She isn't… right?
