The Thing about Falling in Love

Regina woke before dawn.

The room was still lit by the early morning glow shining through the curtains. It should have been peaceful. It would have been, if not for the way her heart ached in her chest.

Emma was curled against her, face relaxed in sleep, one arm draped loosely across Regina’s stomach like it belonged there. Like she still belonged here.

Regina didn’t move at first, watching Emma breathe. Her fingers twitched, wanting to trace the freckles on Emma’s cheek, to push the messy blonde strands from her face, but they didn’t.

She wasn’t allowed that luxury anymore, so she slipped out of bed, careful, as though she were something fragile, like Emma was, too. She didn’t look back.

Emma would soon wake up to the absence, though.

For a few hazy seconds, she didn’t register it, still caught between sleep and the warmth that remained in the sheets. Her lips curved into a lazy, half-awake smile as she reached out for her wife.

However, the bed was cold. Her hand brushed the empty space where Regina had been, and reality crashed in fast.

Emma lay there a moment, staring at the ceiling, her heart hammering against her ribs, for daring to hope. She should be used to this by now.

She sat up, exhaling sharply, rubbing her hands over her face. She was tired. Tired of chasing after something that kept running. Tired of waiting for Regina to realise they were on the same goddamn team.

She didn’t even finish her coffee. Just sat at the kitchen table, staring at her hands. Then she stood up, and stormed into Town Hall like she was about to demand custody of Henry all over again.

Regina was in the middle of a meeting when the doors slammed open. She didn’t even have to look up. She just sighed.

Oh, for heaven’s sake.

Emma stood in the doorway, expression set with that particular brand that meant she was going to be stubborn, and that usually ended with Regina needing either a drink or a long walk in the woods to scream into the abyss.

She braced herself.

Emma didn’t wait. “We need to talk.”

The poor board members just sat there, blinking at the scene unfolding before them like this was the best free entertainment they’d gotten in years. Regina slowly, deliberately, plastered on a polite smile, though her fingers clenched against the table. “Sheriff, now is hardly the-”

“Regina.”

The mayor closed her eyes. God help her. She huffed and stood. “We’re taking a five-minute recess.”

The board members practically bolted for freedom. The moment the doors shut, Emma turned to her. “Why do you keep pushing me away?”

Regina folded her arms. “I’m not pushing you away.”

Emma let out a dry, humourless laugh. “Really? Because you left me in bed all alone this morning after I bawled my eyes out to you.”

“We agreed on a break.”

“Yeah, well, it didn’t really feel like a mutual decision.”

Regina’s gaze flickered to the floor. “Emma, I don’t have time for this.”

“You never do.”

Regina stopped.

“That’s what you don’t get, Regina. You think you’re the only one who’s scared. You think you’re the only one bracing for the moment I leave. But you know what? You don’t have a monopoly on abandonment issues.”

Regina’s stomach twisted.

Emma’s voice was rough, thick with something close to anger but not quite. “I spent my whole life believing I wasn’t good enough to keep. That’s why my parents gave me up. That’s why they kept Neal. And now, the person I finally thought I got to keep- the person I thought was my home-”

Her voice cracked. She swallowed. “Is treating me like I’m temporary.”

Regina’s nails dug into her arms. Emma stepped back, shaking her head as though she hated what she was about to say.

“Maybe you’re waiting for me to leave. But guess what? I’ve been waiting for you to ask me to stay.”

Regina’s chest ached. She wanted to speak, but she didn’t know what to say. Emma turned to go, and Regina didn’t stop her.

The loft felt suffocating, not in the physical sense. There was space, air, even a window cracked open to let in the cool night breeze. But emotionally? Mentally? Everything felt too much, yet somehow nothing at all.

Emma hadn’t been back to Regina’s house since that night at the Town Hall. She avoided it like it might physically burn her, like stepping too close would somehow make her weaker. She didn’t even walk past it. She took the long way home, down streets she had no business being on, just to avoid catching a glimpse of the place where she used to belong.  

Instead, she stayed at the loft. Not because she wanted to, but because there was nowhere else to go.  

Her parents were trying. Mary Margaret, especially, watched her with that tilt of the head, concern in her eyes as if her silent gaze could coax Emma into talking. David was more subtle, offering her coffee, mentioning an open patrol shift, anything that wasn’t pushing her too much  

Emma wasn’t interested.  

So, she avoided their worried glances, their hesitant words, and focused on work. If she wasn’t on duty, she found something to fix, a case to sort through, paperwork to file. She made herself busy, because if she sat still for too long, she felt the ache, the loneliness, the sharp sting of something unfinished.

She missed Henry more than she’d thought possible. They texted, of course, but it wasn’t the same. He missed her too, and she could tell in the way he texted back too quickly, in the way he asked when she’d be home, in the way he said “Goodnight, Mom” like it was a question.

She wasn’t sure how to answer.  

On the fourth night of avoiding everything, Emma sat at the kitchen table, picking at the worn wood grain with the edge of her nail. Mary Margaret sat across from her, hands wrapped around a mug of tea. She hesitated for a long time before speaking.  

“Emma,” she said.  

Emma didn’t look up. “Mm.”  

Mary Margaret exhaled, like she was bracing herself. “Maybe you should talk to her.”  

Emma’s jaw clenched. Her fingers stilled against the table. “She doesn’t want to talk,” she muttered.  

Her mother’s gaze didn’t waver. “I think she’s scared.”  

Emma did look up at that, eyebrows knitting together. “Yeah?” she said flatly. “Well. So am I.”  

Silence stretched between them. Mary Margaret’s eyes softened, but Emma didn’t want soft. She didn’t want understanding, or sympathy, or whatever else her mother was trying to offer.  

She wanted Regina. And Regina had taken off her ring or lost it or whatever, Ruby had said over the phone.

Emma leaned back in her chair, running a hand over her face. “She took off her ring,” she said sternly. “I don’t… I don’t know what else there is to say.”

Mary Margaret pressed her lips together, looking at her like she was trying to fix her with sheer willpower. Then, after a pause, she offered, “Maybe she lost it.”  

Emma laughed. “Yeah. Sure. Just lost it. Then, why hasn’t she told me?”  

Mary Margaret reached for her hand, but her daughter pulled back before she could touch her. The rejection sat heavy between them.  

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Emma said abruptly, pushing her chair back. The legs scraped against the floor, loud in the quiet.  

Mary Margaret sighed. “Emma-”  

“I don’t.” 

Her mother looked down, fingers curling around her mug. Then, she whispered, “She loves you.”

Emma’s spine went rigid. She stood there for a moment, staring at the floor, at nothing. And then, without another word, she turned and walked upstairs.  

She shut herself in the bedroom, pressing the heel of her hand against her forehead.  

A hiccupping cry cut through the silence.  

Emma clenched her jaw as Neal wailed from his bed, voice high and desperate. The sound drilled into her, burrowed under her skin. It wasn’t his fault, she knew that. His ear infection had gotten the best of him, but it didn’t stop the frustration from curling in her chest, because-

Because she was tired.  

Because she wanted to cry.  

Because all she could hear was someone small and helpless, waiting.  

And she was so goddamn tired of waiting.

Regina ran.

It wasn’t graceful or poised, not like she was in some ad for high-end athletic wear. It was a desperate, frantic kind of run. Hair stuck to her forehead, breath coming out too fast. She hadn’t planned on running this long. She hadn’t even planned on running at all.

But then, of course, she ran into Mary Margaret.

Literally.

One second, she was sprinting down the path by the pier, and the next, there was an unfortunate thud. Regina stumbled back, blinking rapidly, watching in horror as her mother-in-law toppled sideways onto the pavement.

“Oh, for goodness sake,” Regina hissed, already moving to help.

Mary Margaret groaned, pushing herself upright. “What-? What the hell, Regina?”

Regina’s fingers twitched. “It was an accident.”

Mary Margaret inspected her leg, frowning at the scrape on her shin. “You tripped me.”

“It was an accident,” Regina repeated.

The woman shot her a look that very clearly said she didn’t believe Regina for a second, and that she was quite frankly still very upset that Regina was emotionally ruining her daughter.

Regina sighed, grabbing Mary Margaret’s arm and guiding her to the bench by the pier. “Sit,” she ordered.

Mary Margaret sat, but she also stared. The brunette ignored her, dabbing at the scrape with the tissue she always carried, because of course she was the kind of person who carried tissues like some over-prepared suburban mom.

Then Mary Margaret said, “You’re a coward.”

Regina stilled. She gripped the tissue too tightly. “Excuse me?”

“You’re a coward.”

Regina’s jaw clenched. She willed herself to ignore the way her stomach twisted. “You have a lot of nerve-”

“You’re so afraid of losing love that you’d rather push it away first.”

Regina stopped. Mary Margaret’s voice was sharp, but not angry. Just tired.

“I see it,” she continued, eyes locked on Regina. “I saw it when you left Emma in bed that morning, like you were sneaking away from something that was already yours. I saw it when you looked at Henry the way you do when you think you’ve already lost him.” She shook her head. “And I see you, Regina.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.”

Regina scoffed, tossing the tissue aside. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Mary Margaret let out a hollow laugh. “I know more than you think.” She paused, letting the wind fill the space between them. Then, “I know what Cora did to you.”

Regina’s breath caught. Her mother-in-law leaned forward. “She poisoned you. Made you think you were unlovable before you even got the chance to try being loved.”

Regina’s hands curled into fists. “Don’t-”

“She convinced you that love is something you have to earn, something that gets ripped away the second you touch it, something you destroy just by existing.” Mary Margaret exhaled. “But she was wrong, Regina. And you know that.”

Regina swallowed, throat tight. “You don’t get to speak about my mother.”

Mary Margaret’s voice softened, but the words still landed like a punch. “You’re still fighting her, even now. She made you think love was a punishment, and you’re so convinced Emma will eventually leave that you’re making it happen yourself.”

Regina’s whole body went rigid. Mary Margaret sat back, watching her. “Do you really think Emma married you out of pity?”

Regina flinched.

Silence, and then, rain. Not sudden. Not all at once. Just a steady drizzle.

Mary Margaret sighed, pulling an umbrella from her bag. “I know you hate me,” she said, standing. “But I don’t hate you, and I don’t want to watch you ruin your own happiness because your mother made you think you didn’t deserve it.”

She hesitated, then held out the umbrella. “Take it.”

Regina stared at it. Then, in a rare moment of kindness, or maybe just guilt, she shook her head. “You take it. Get home safely.”

Mary Margaret’s eyes softened. Regina turned away before she could say anything else.

She ran. Again.

Her breath hitched, her feet slamming against the pavement. The rain was heavier now, cold and unrelenting, soaking through her clothes, but she kept running.

Because Mary Margaret was right, and Regina hated that she was right. God, she had to fix this. She had to make it right.

Her vision blurred, not from the rain, not from the cold, but from something that felt dangerously close to tears. She blinked furiously, telling herself it was just the wind, just the storm, just-

Her foot slipped. Regina gasped, pain shooting through her ankle as she stumbled forward.

No. No, no, no.

She stopped, panting, pressing her hands to her knees. The universe hated her. She pulled off her shoes that suffocated her now sore ankle, hoping she could now get home faster.

Maybe this was what she deserved. Maybe she had earned this, the pain, the exhaustion, everything pressing down on her until she broke.

Maybe Cora had been right. Maybe Regina did destroy everything she touched.

A strangled laugh escaped her, wet and bitter and awful. Nah... She’d blame it on the rain this time instead, and kept running.

Meanwhile, Emma was so close to beating Henry’s high score. She had been laser-focused, fingers flying over the controller, the little beep beep beep of the game filling the quiet living room, when it came.

BANG BANG BANG.

The sheriff jolted so hard she nearly sent the controller flying. Another round of pounding rattled the front door.

She frowned, glancing at the clock. Right. She wasn’t even supposed to be here. She was supposed to be taking Henry to her parents’ for dinner, but apparently, he was grounded and had to finish his homework first, which left Emma alone in Regina’s house, with only Henry’s console and a mild sense of abandonment for company.

Too early for a crisis. She considered the likelihood of an angry mob. Not high. Considered the likelihood of Regina showing up, from wherever it was that she went, to yell at her. Higher.

With a sigh, Emma grabbed the baseball bat from behind the couch because, well. Storybrooke things. She yanked open the door, ready for anything.

Except this.

Regina.

Dripping wet. Hair plastered to her face. Sneakers in one hand. Chest heaving, like she had run through hell to get here.

Emma held her breath, because the mayor, she was shaking.

Regina opened her mouth, swallowed hard, tried again. “I’m… I’m scared.”

The bat slipped from Emma’s grip. “Regina-”

The woman kept going, voice hoarse, breath ragged. “If I let myself believe you would stay,” she whispered, “and then you didn’t-” She swallowed hard. “I don’t think I would survive it.”

The admission was raw. Honest. Painfully human. Emma took her hand and pulled her inside the house. The door shut behind them, locking out the storm.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured, steady.

Regina had meant to keep this inside. She had planned to, but it was spilling out now, unstoppable, words tumbling before she could catch them.

“I asked for space because these two years have been the best years of my life, and that scared me. Because what if this, us, wasn’t real? What if it was temporary? What if I woke up one day and-” She swallowed. “I meant to hurt you.” This felt like fire in her throat. “I thought if I hurt you first, then you couldn’t hurt me in return. And that-” Her voice cracked. “That killed me. Every day. Every night. Because I love you, Emma. I have always loved you.”

Emma’s hands curled into fists, fingernails digging into her palms as those words sank in, into her skin, into her ribs, into every fragile, broken piece of herself.

“You think you were protecting yourself?” Her voice was hoarse. She let out a breathless, bitter laugh, blinking hard, her lashes wet. “Do you have any idea what that did to me, Regina? I begged for you to let me in. I-” She closed her eyes. “I thought I lost you.”

Regina exhaled, pained. “Emma-”

Emma shook her head. “No. No, you don’t get to say that. You don’t get to act like I’m the only one who could do the leaving. Like I’m the risk.” Her breath was shaking now. “You pushed me away so hard I thought I wasn’t worth fighting for.”

Regina flinched, standing uncomfortably, in these soaked socks.

Emma sniffed, voice trembling. “I thought-I thought maybe I wasn’t enough. Like maybe I was just some-some placeholder for something better. Like you’d wake up one day and realise I wasn’t what you wanted anymore.” She choked out. “And I just-I stopped fighting, Regina. I stopped texting, stopped trying, because I was just so tired. And you know what?” Green eyes, wet and wary, lifted to meet brown. “I was ready to let go. For real this time.”

“But then you showed up, in the rain, telling me you were scared-” Her voice broke. She bit her lip, shaking her head. “And I-I don’t know what to do with that, Regina, because I was scared, too. And I thought you didn’t care. I thought-” Emma’s face crumpled. She wiped at her eyes furiously, as if trying to erase the hurt. “God, I love you so much it hurts, and I don’t-I don’t know how to do this if I’m the only one fighting.”

Regina reached for her. Emma tensed for half a second before Regina’s arms wound around her, pulling her in, crushing her close.

She collapsed against her, something inside Emma shattering, something raw and bleeding and so tired.

Regina pressed her lips against Emma’s hair, her temple, her forehead. “You are worth fighting for,” she whispered fiercely. “You always have been, and I never want to lose you.”

Emma let out a trembling breath, pressing herself further into Regina, like she was scared this moment would slip through her fingers.

“You are so lovable,” she murmured against Regina’s temple, voice thick. “So ridiculously, unbelievably lovable. Please don’t ever forget that.”

A small sound escaped Regina, something between a scoff and a sob. Emma kissed her forehead. Then her cheek. Then her nose.

Regina exhaled, trembling. “I love the way you glare at your coffee like it personally offended you,” Emma continued, pressing another kiss to Regina’s jaw. “And the way you hum when you think no one’s listening.” Kiss. “And the way you get all defensive when you’re losing at cards. I love all of you.” Kiss.

Regina shuddered, half-laughing, half-sniffling. “That tickles.”

Emma grinned. “Good.”

But the words Emma didn’t say yet, the ones that sat heavy in her chest, you broke me and please don’t do it again, those would take more time.

For now, they sat curled together on the couch, Regina still sniffing into Emma’s shoulder. Then, she murmured, “…My ring.”

The blonde hummed, absentmindedly rubbing circles into Regina’s back. “Mm?”

A pause. “…It wasn’t a metaphor or some message.”

Emma frowned. “What?”

Regina sighed. “I lost it.”

Silence. Emma reeled. “…Wait. Wait. Wait.” She pulled back, staring at her. “You mean to tell me I have been torturing myself this whole time, thinking you were going to divorce me because I thought you took it off and you just… lost it?”

Regina cringed. “…Yes.”

Emma gaped, and she laughed. Loud, uncontrollable, helpless. Ugh, Ruby was right all along.

“Regina Mills,” she wheezed.

The brunette groaned, burying her face in Emma’s shoulder. So, naturally, they’d tear the house apart.

Once Henry left for a sleepover at the Charmings’ (which was just an excuse for him and David to build a fort and have a game night) and Regina had taken a warm bath, the couple got to work.

Bedroom? Nothing. Clothing pockets? Nope. Under the couch cushions? Just some old receipts and an embarrassing amount of crumbs that Emma had to take care of months ago. Between the car seats? A rogue candy wrapper and Emma’s long-lost sunglasses.

The sheriff sighed. “Ok. When’s the last time you saw it?”

Regina, suddenly very interested in the ceiling, pursed her lips. Emma narrowed her eyes. “Regina.”

A beat. A wince. A throat clear. “…We were on this couch.”

Emma frowned. “Ok…?”

Regina cleared her throat. “And you were-”

Beat.

Emma’s brain caught up. Her eyes widened. “Oh!”

Regina grimaced. Her wife’s mouth parted slightly, a slow, devilish smile creeping onto her face. “Did we-”

Regina clapped a hand over Emma’s mouth. “Not another word.”

“Oh, this is gold,” Emma murmured, kissing the brunette’s palm. “You lost your wedding ring while straddling me, kissing me like your life depended on it, moaning my name-”

Ah, yes. It had started the way these things always started between them: with a challenge.

Emma had been late, just a little smug about it, because she knew how much Regina hated when people kept her waiting. Sure enough, there Regina was, standing in the middle of the living room, arms crossed, brow arched, radiating disapproval. Emma had smirked at her from the doorway like she owned the place.

“Missed me?”

Regina’s eye roll was swift, practiced, but Emma saw the way Regina’s fingers twitched, like she was holding herself back. So Emma had done what she always did, stepped too close, let their hands brush, waited for Regina to decide.

And Regina had decided.

Emma barely had time to breathe before she was being shoved down onto the couch, Regina’s mouth on hers, hot and wanting. No hesitation. No second-guessing. Just hands threading through her hair, tugging at her jacket, pulling at her shirt like there was something urgent in the way they fit together.

Regina kissed like she fought: fierce, relentless, all-consuming.

The blonde groaned against her lips, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, hands sliding down to grip Regina’s waist. The weight of Regina in her lap was grounding and dizzying all at once.

And then Regina made that little sound, low in her throat, as her hands fumbled at Emma’s belt, and Emma swore she almost blacked out.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Regina muttered, frustrated with the leather buckle.

Emma chuckled, breathless. “Need some help there, Your Majesty?”

Regina huffed, nipping at Emma’s lower lip in retaliation, and Emma gasped, her hands tightening on Regina’s hips.

Somewhere between Emma’s shirt being tossed to the floor and the brunette arching against her, the ring must have slipped from her finger.

At some point, Regina had leaned back, flushed and breathless, her fingers ghosting over Emma’s bare skin. Emma had grinned up at her, tugged her closer, whispered something, something that had made Regina laugh, her walls crumbling completely.

Regina had kissed her again, slow and deep, until words weren’t necessary anymore.

Now, Emma just looked at her wife, who was still very pointedly not looking at her, cheeks dusted the faintest shade of pink.

Emma smirked. “You definitely growled at me.”

Regina closed her eyes briefly, as if asking the universe for patience. “Emma.”

“And it was hot as hell.”

Regina scoffed, but when she finally met Emma’s gaze, she had a hand slipping into the side of the sofa. A few grunts later, and out came Regina’s wedding ring.

Emma took her wife’s hand and slowly slid the ring back onto her finger, pressing a lingering kiss to her knuckles.

Regina swallowed. Emma smiled.

“There,” the blonde murmured. “That’s where it belongs.”

They stayed curled together on the couch after inner, the weight of this damning break, lifting. Regina's head rested against Emma’s shoulder, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns along Emma’s arm. There was still so much to say, so much that had already been said, but for now, there was only this. Them.

Emma sighed, pressing a lazy kiss to Regina’s hair before murmuring, half-teasing, “The thing about falling in love, Regina? …It’s a lot like misplacing your car keys.”

Regina’s eyes snapped open. She lifted her head just enough to glare at Emma, unimpressed. “Your car keys?”

Emma winced. “No, wait, that’s not-”

Regina, deadpan, made a show of untangling herself, like she was about to leave. Emma gasped, laughing as she pulled her back down. “No, no, no-wait! Let me fix it!”

The mayor huffed, still pouting even as she allowed Emma to gather her close again. “…Go on, then,” she muttered, her voice laced with faux exasperation.

Emma grinned, her hands sliding up to cup Regina’s face, thumbs brushing against her cheekbones.

“The thing about falling in love, Regina?” Emma said softly this time, brushing a kiss against Regina’s temple as the thunder rumbled outside. “It sneaks up on you, and before you even realise it, you’re home.”

She held Regina's gaze, waiting. Regina didn’t speak. Couldn’t. The words settled deep inside her, in the hollow places that once ached from loneliness, of fear, of waiting for love to be taken away.

But Emma was still here. Still holding her. Still looking at her like she was something worth loving. Then, she pressed their foreheads together and whispered, “Stay with me this time.”

Regina didn’t hesitate. She curled her fingers into the front of Emma’s hoodie, tugging her closer.

“…Always.”

Emma smiled, pressing a kiss to Regina’s lips.

Regina closed her eyes, letting her heart fall into the truth of it, finally allowing herself to believe that love didn’t have to be something she lost.