"You know that I'm in love with you," he murmurs, his voice soft, but it's no longer a question but simply a statement of shock because she already knows, he knows that, can see it in the way she moves, in the way that she refuses to meet his eyes, even when it's written clearly in her face and the way her eyes had widened when he'd said it.

Granted, this isn't exactly the way he's imagined he'd admit it to her (mostly because he's never really thought he'd be admitting it to her, but he should have known that there are no secrets left hidden, and things like this...feelings like this, it could not be buried forever), but this is how it is. What is done is done.

"You are?" she stammers, and there's something in her eyes, something in the way it widens, and her lips turn up at the sides a little, he'd probably miss it if he doesn't know her so well, hadn't memorized every curve and contour of her lovely face.

It almost lights a hope deep inside him, but he snuffs that out before it can get any bigger. She's not in love with him, can never be, not with how she pines after that miserable slob Daniel, and how she looks past every transgression, every pain just to be with him. She cannot be in love with him, because she's everything, she's the whole world, his whole world, and he was just—he was just him. Sad, pathetic Robin with a sad life and a sad story. He doesn't deserve her.

In another life she's a queen, and he's nothing but a common thief.

He wants to ask her why she's asking when they both know that she knows, but there's something about her expression, that upturned face awaiting a response, expecting one, and though he really, really, really does not want to tell her, to admit it out loud again because saying it and not getting it in return (though he expects that, knows for sure he would never get that) makes him feel like shit, makes him feel like a right git.

"I am," he confirms instead, because it's the truth, it's what she knows and what he feels and it's useless now to deny it, knowing he's felt it since forever, and though she doesn't know the extent of it, or how long, he knows she's smart enough to surmise that it's been a long time.

She opens her mouth to speak, but only a soft breath whooshes out of her parted lips, and damn it to fucking hell, he wants to kiss her, wants to press his lips against her and kiss her senseless, kiss her to see reason, to make her see that she's made for him, and he for her, and Daniel is just a useless asshole she's dating.

But he doesn't, of course not, because he's not an asshole, and because he respects her and their friendship to not force his love on her if she doesn't want it. He loves her, and though there is nothing in this world that could make him happier than hearing her say she loves him back, he loves her enough to let her be happy and free to love whoever she wants.

He only ever wants to see her happy, even if her happiness isn't him.

Even her happiness doesn't include him.

"But you can't," she mutters, her face contorting into something he cannot decipher, into one that he knows very well—pained. He's seen that painted in her expression one too many times to know what it looks like. She's pained and it's because of him, and fuck, he feels like a world class heel.

He ignores the pain of her rejection, telling himself that it's not something he hasn't told himself already, if not once then one too many million times, and that's okay, it doesn't hurt...much (it hurts a bloody fucking lot, thank you very much, but it's not something he's not anticipated). He focuses on her pain, instead, because that's him, that's what he does, put her above all else.

"I know," he tells her, almost placating. "It's nothing I haven't told myself Regina. I know I can't and shouldn't love you, and I do not blame you at all for not loving me. That's not your fault. I understand completely. There are about a billion and one reasons why you shouldn't love me back..." He runs his fingers through his hair, wishing the ground would swallow him whole. "I'm not...I don't deserve you. I'm not worthy. I know all of it, have it even drilled it in my head, so no need to tell me what I already know."

...

He doesn't deserve her.

That's what he says—that he understands why she's rejecting him, and that she's not worthy of him, and fuck he's got this all wrong, because that's not it at all. She's not rejecting him, and if there's anyone not worthy it's her.

She's too messed up, too jaded and has too much baggage that she just can't—not with Robin. Robin is the most constant person in her life, hell, he's the only constant in her life, and she cannot lose that, cannot lose him. She sucks at relationship, too, and if they ever...if she ever gives him a chance, it's highly unlikely that she won't lose him in the end...because everything has an ending...and everything she touches she destroys.

So he's wrong. It's her, not him—though that sounds like the worst line in the world (it is), it's also the truth. She doesn't deserve him—sweet, good, kind, loving Robin. Regina, the wreck that she is—does not deserve him at all.

And it doesn't even really matter, because well, she has Daniel, and she loves him. She loves Daniel, loves him enough to stay in the wreckage they call their relationship even if she knows it's been doomed from the beginning.

But maybe it's why she stays, because she knows she won't lose her mind and her whole being to lose him, that somehow, even if it hurts her to lose him, she'll find a way to survive. But losing Robin—she doesn't even want to think about that.

"Look, Regina," he mutters, and she comes back down to earth, looks at him with wild eyes because she thinks she knows what he's about to say next, and she doesn't like it, doesn't want to hear it, she'll be broken, she knows she will (despite the fact that she's the one who stayed away), so she shakes her head before he can even say a word.

She shakes her head so vigorously, it makes her a little bit dizzy, but damn it, she's not going to let him do this to her.

"I won't, I can't, Robin, no," she says before he can even say a word. "I don't care about..." well, not his feelings, she cares a lot about him and his feelings. "I care about you, a lot, and I love you, in my own way, and I can't lose you. I refuse to lose you."

There are tears on her eyes, and they almost fall down but Robin is there in front of her in three quick strides, brushing her tears away before they can even fall. He's never really liked seeing her cry, just as much as she hates seeing him this way—pained, tortured—and it's even worse that she is the reason.

"You won't lose me," he promises, and it's an easy thing to say, she's heard it so many times from so many different people but they never meant a lick, none of them ever really meant it except her father, and she's scared that those words will be that—just words—with Robin.

He cups her jaw and looks her straight in the eye. For a split second she wishes he'd lean down and kiss her, but she shakes that thought from her mind because no, she doesn't feel that way for him (does she?).

"Regina, I won't let that happen. I know you say you refuse to lose me, but I refuse to lose you too, and I promise you I'm not going to let it happen." He sighs, drops his hands from her cheeks down to his sides, and steps back. "But I do need time. I don't mean forever, or even a long time, and I know we've already spent so much time apart...but I have to go lick my wounds for a while yeah?" He reaches up and scratches the back of his head, and gives her a small, pained smile.

She wants to yell him that no, she doesn't want that, but she does love him, in her own way, and she loves him enough to give him that. If it's time he needs then it's time she'll give him. After all, she'd been distant from him, too, and he'd been very patient with her.

"I get that you love Daniel, and that you don't love me—not in the way I love you, I've known it for a long, long time, but it's a hard blow to hear it from the love of my life. So I might need to...well, try and move on from it all, okay?"

It's honest and open, and it's also very much painful, and she wishes for once, that she's good enough, that she's not herself but someone else, someone with a better life or was a better person...but she's not.

She nods at him, unable to say anything.

He pauses and looks at her curiously, and she looks back at him, wondering what he's thinking.

"If you didn't love him, if he wasn't in the picture..." he starts but trails off, as if afraid to ask the question that they both know has been brewing for some time.

But he shouldn't be afraid of asking the question, perhaps he should be more afraid of the answer. Good thing, Regina doesn't have those either.

"I don't know," she says softly, sighing, chin falling down her chest as she strives to look anywhere but him. "I guess."

He's silent for a moment. "If I wasn't me, if I was someone else, someone more deserving," he starts, and it's an absolutely terrible—the three second pause that seems to stretch for hours before he continues with: "If I was someone worthy of you, I'd make you happy, happier than he ever could."

She smile woefully, fights the tears pressing against her eyes. "And if I was someone better, someone else, someone not me, I would have let you."

His eyes are wet with tears as he nods, and then with one last goodbye, he walks away from her.

He doesn't even look back.