Work Text:
She tries to allow herself some small comforts.
Although today sitting in the unfortunate booth watching her over the rim of a cold cup of coffee seems increasingly less like a comfort and more like the punishment that she supposes is fitting given the circumstances.
She tries to forget that this is Ruby.
She watches the woman strut so confidently around the diner; smiling and laughing, and when Ruby throws a flirty wink at a customer Regina doesn’t recognise, (she doesn’t need to recognise them. It’s not her. That’s all that really matters) it’s so very familiar that her heart feels as though it’s trying to relocate about a foot north from its usual resting place so heavily in her chest.
Regina sets her coffee down, finally, the thought of it suddenly a great deal less appealing.
She’s not Red. Her mind repeats it over and over. A mantra.
This is Ruby.
Ruby doesn’t love her.
Regina loves Ruby though. There is no doubt in her mind – how could she not when Ruby looks so much like what is hers.
So she watches.
She pretends. Make believe. (Like a fairytale)
Ruby saunters her way, but passes by without a second glance.
For a second Regina allows herself the brief gratification of remembering a time when the woman (only not this woman. She’s not Red. The mantra returns) couldn’t be within six-foot of her without some sort of bodily contact. She doesn’t indulge any further. She doesn’t deserve it, or maybe she can’t bring herself to. Regina won’t dwell on it.
The bell on the door chimes as its flung open. Ruby doesn’t even turn.