You finally make it upstairs and into the small apartment, but you run into a small problem.
"Oh Emma, I wasn't-" she stops, seeing the state you're in. "Emma what happened to you?" her tone is soft yet somehow firm at the same time.
"Regina and Henry and dinner and a kiss," you mumble incoherently.
"Who did you kiss Emma?"
"Regina," you say stoically.
"Oh Emma," she says unsure. She walks over to you and wraps her arms around your small frame.
"Emma what happened? Do you want tea?" she asks you. But tea is the furthest thing from your mind. She starts rubbing your back in an attempt to soothe you but it makes the pain worse somehow.
"I-I-I," you attempt to speak but the sobs are making it difficult to get out a coherent sentence.
"I w-want," you try again but still the sobs get in the way.
"I want my son back!" you scream. You feel warm liquid dripping onto your shoulder and you can't tell if the tears belong to you or the woman trying to console you but the tears don't stop. The pain of admitting what you want shoots through you like a bullet.
She is still rubbing your back and she leads you over to a barstool and sits you down. She grabs your face with both of her hands and your eyes meet crystal blue ones, shiny from their own tears.
"Where is Henry?" she asks, concerned.
"He's- he's with- with her!"
"What do you mean you want him back?" She's just looking for answers, a way to try and help you out. You sit there crying, unable to answer any of her questions.
"Ok, I'm going to put on some water for tea and when it's done you're going to sit here and drink it until you can answer me. Do you understand me?" She's talking to you, your brain registers that much but you can't speak, can't move, the insufferable pain coursing through your body has rendered you paralyzed in a sense. So instead of answering you just sit there, staring off into the distance, eyes unfocused.
She moves to the tiny stove and puts the kettle on to boil and somewhere in the midst of making you tea, you hear her mumble something about Regina, death, and words an elementary school teacher should not be uttering.
"She's not," you say, barely above a whisper. You aren't sure if she's heard you or not but after a moments silence she looks at you and half-smiles, "Well we are each entitled to our own opinions right?"
"She's not what you said though," the sobs have stopped for the moment which is the only reason even you are able to understand the words that are coming out of your mouth.
"So what happened Emma? Explain it to me so I don't feel like I want to punch a baby right now," she says. Any other day you'd be laughing, smiling at the very least hearing this woman talk the way she is. But laughter and smiles don't grace your presence tonight. You wonder if they ever will again.
"I don't want to talk about it." You don't want to feel anymore. You just want to be numb and hide under the covers and pretend like it never happened.
"Bullshit! You are going to talk about it whether you want to or not Emma!"
"I can't Mary-Margaret," you say, the exhaustion from the tears painfully evident from the sound of your voice. "Not tonight at least."
The whistling from the stove signals that the water is ready. The woman across from you moves quickly and efficiently, pouring you a cup of tea and setting it down in front of you. She then takes your face between both of her hands. The pads of her thumbs brush away stray tears that are leaking out of your eyes. You aren't even crying anymore, but the pain in your chest and the flood of your emotions causes more tears to fall that you didn't even know you had.
"Listen to me Emma," she says as her eyes search yours for acknowledgement. "Whatever happened tonight, we will get through it together. Now I want you to drink this, the whole cup. It will help you sleep, I promise. And then in the morning we can figure this out together. Ok?"
You can feel the pieces of your heart chipping away like pieces of a broken mirror falling to the floor; each new piece shattering on impact. Your eyes are trained on hers but you don't see her. You are staring right through her, like she's not even standing in front of you trying to make you feel remotely better about yourself. She leans in and kisses your forehead.
"I love you Emma. Get some sleep," and with that she takes her own cup of tea and leaves you with your thoughts in the middle of the tiny kitchen.
The morning light shines through your bedroom window and you pull the covers over your head to block it out once more. You aren't sure when or how but you are aware that you opened your eyes to the sunlight, so at some point you drifted off. The last thing you remember from last night was making the long trek up the stairs to your bedroom and laying down on the bed. You curled into a pillow and again replayed the nights events in your head. Your body cried more but no tears were shed. You didn't know until last night that it was possible to run out of tears.
A timid knock at the door makes you crawl deeper under the covers. Unable to face your kind room mate, you feign sleep hoping she'll leave you alone. She cracks your door open, just the slightest bit, to check on you but quickly closes it when she thinks you're asleep or has figured out you don't want to talk. You silently thank her for not prying and wrap your arms around yourself curling into an even tighter, impossibly smaller ball. You spend most of the day buried in the darkness underneath the covers. Your stomach has been growling for the better part of it but you can't bring yourself to eat. You can't bring yourself to move. You fade in and out of consciousness as the night progresses, images from the previous night haunt your dreams and you soon realize the thought of sleeping is ridiculous, so you get out of bed for the first time in 18 hours.
You make your way for the stairs hoping your room mate has decided to go to her boyfriend's house for the night. The thought quickly dissipates when you see her shuffling around the kitchen, tea kettle in hand. She turns around and is startled at the sight of you; you're still in the same clothes, your hair is a tangled mess of curls ad you're sure your face is a wreck.
"Oh! Emma. Hi. I was just making you some-"
"Tea? Thanks, but no," you interrupt.
"Please Emma? You need something. I know you didn't get out of bed all day," she says.
"Tea isn't going to fix what happened Mary-Margaret!"
She's hurt. You can tell from the glassy look in her eye that wasn't there minutes before. You don't care though. It doesn't begin to compare to the hole in your chest where your heart used to be. You utter an apology you don't mean and turn around, heading back to the cave you have made your room.
"Emma wait!" You hear quick steps on the hardwood and suddenly she's behind you, rubbing her hand up and down your arm gingerly, trying to comfort you.
"We will get through this," she says. You shrug her hand off of you and say barely above a whisper, "Just stop. Please," and you walk away, head hung low.
"Emma-" but before she has a chance to finish you interject, "No Mary-Margaret. It doesn't matter," and you continue to walk away not daring to look back.
"It matters to me," she whispers to an empty room. But again you don't hear it because you're already upstairs standing outside of your room. You take a deep breath and cross the threshold wishing for a dreamless sleep.
You wake in the middle of the night, scared by the sound of your scream ripping through your body. Your cheeks are wet from the tears shed in your sleep. Seconds later a frightened looking Mary-Margaret bursts through your door.
"Emma?! Are you ok?!"
You look into the crystal blue eyes staring back at you and you see nothing but fear and compassion. Staring in her eyes you realize she really does care about you and for some reason the thought makes you break down. Your walls crumble around you, leaving you surrounded by the rubble as the sobs start to tear through you. She quickly rushes over to the bed, climbs up next to you and wraps her arms around you. You curl into her and let the sobs come, quickly realizing resistance is futile.
"Ssh Emma. Ssh, I'm right here," she whispers into your tangled mess of blonde curls.
"I-I," you try to speak but it's hard to verbalized anything. "I j-just wa-a-ant him b-b-back," you finally get out.
You look into blue eyes and gently whisper, "Can I have some tea?"
The woman looking down at you smiles and says, "Of course. I'll go make some real quick." She gives you a tight squeeze before reassuring you she'll be right back.
A few minutes later, she returns with two steaming mugs, carefully handing you yours and taking her spot back on your bed. Again you have found it's possible to run out of tears. You take this opportunity to explain all of the events that lead up to this meltdown and when you're finished explaining, you look at her and see she is just staring off into space, unable to speak.
"Please don't say I told you so. Say anything but that please," you beg her.
"Emma I would never. I just, I can't believe she kicked you out of his life like that." You flinch at the harsh words as soon they're spoken. You still can't believe this is real.
"Maybe I could talk to her for you?" she offers.
Your eyes widen in horror at the thought. Regina would rip her to shreds and you were broken enough for the both of you.
"No Mary-Margaret, you can't. I could only imagine what she would have to say to if you showed up on her doorstep wanting to talk this out. No I need to do this on my own time."
"I was just trying to help," she says meekly.
"I know, but I need to do this for me," you say leaving no room for argument.
The room goes quiet for a few moments before either of you speak again.
"Mary-Margaret?"
"Yeah?" she responds sounding tired.
"Will you stay in here with me tonight?" She puts her arm around you and smiles at you before responding. "Of course I will."
The two of you lay down and for the few hours before daylight breaks through your window again, you have a dreamless sleep.
You awake in the morning to an empty bed, but find a note in place of the woman that had previously occupied the other side. "Emma- I left some tea in the kettle for you. Please drink some. Also; you may want to shower :) love, M&M. P.s. what are you going to do about work?"
You lift your arm and sniff and wrinkle your nose at the foul scent that invaded your senses. You get up and slowly stretch out all of your muscles, not realizing how sore you were from lying in bed for so long.
You make your way to the bathroom, turn the hot water on in the shower and step in. The hot water is a shock to your skin but it feels good to let it beat over your tense muscles. And somewhere in the back of your mind you think you deserve the pain after fucking things up so royally.