1.20 based drabble // it was just supposed to be a kiss. nothing more, nothing less. to her, a game; to him, a distraction. he was getting too close to mary - margaret and regina knew she had to act, was prepared to act, but something gave after their lips touched and caused regina to recoil as if she’d been burned.
‘you need to go.’ her words tumbled out in a hurry, her tone hollow and scared, eyes wide as if she’d just seen a ghost. she felt her heart beat again, and that damn heart haunted her far too much.
regina was kicking herself. she had him right where she wanted him, had gotten him this far, but somewhere along the lines, her act blurred with reality, and her hunger for kindness felt satiated for the first time in decades. she was starved of it for so long, and her heart won over her head, once again leaving her with a mess to clean.
‘go.’ her eyes were serious but so much softer than he had ever seen and there is a moment of clarity in them. he shouldn’t have let her kiss him, he shouldn’t have enjoyed it. hadn’t he made enough mistakes already ? her gaze was filled with sad longing and he asked himself if he regretted it. not because of kathryn or mary - margaret. because of her: the broken mayor in front of him, the side he had never seen behind pristine appearance and biting words.
‘i’m sorry, regina.’ he almost sounds confused, the words falling from a guiltless mouth as if they were a question he couldn’t quite fathom the answer to. she couldn’t hold his gaze anymore, though, and she missed the way his mouth opened to speak.
it was the only hint he needed. neither of them knew what to say, and if they did, were they sure it should be said? were there even words left to be shared? how do you narrate a feeling you cannot even explain to yourself? a feeling; not love, never love, but a feeling of longing: to mend, to be mended, to watch those broken pieces fit together as they should.
she hadn’t realized he’d left until she heard the door shut, and she felt frozen in place. to move, to look where he once stood, meant that it was over. it meant that she was broken and alone all over again. and just as she is, so would the wine glass in her hand be: thrown across the room, shattered on the floor, resting in a pool of what once filled it: life, love. but he was neither. no, he was just a cruel reminder.