The school was grandiose and quiet. Magic swelled within its walls, pouring out of the few gifted children who were lucky enough to attend, and, of course, their teachers. Like over-ripened fruit, many of the students felt trapped by the massive stone building, especially at night. The girls would whisper among themselves in their dormitories about this boy or that, and the boys would whisper piercing insults at one another until the professor on night duty hissed, 'Quiet!' and threatened them with a lashing. This, they knew would be brutal and unforgiving, so they quieted quickly.

In the mornings, during breakfast, the boys would flick food across the table at each other until they were scolded again, and even then, they continued. The girls simply watched from nearby and giggled as the most handsome - and most bold - of the young men put their worst behavior on display. This, of course, was to gain the attention of the young ladies that we sitting a few meters away at their own table. After that, at exactly seven in the morning, lessons began. Again, the not-so-gentlemanly boys were separated from the girls, sitting on the opposite side of the classroom. The few brave young women in the class who dared to pass notes to the other side of the room were often caught and given a lashing in the hallway, after which the young man who had received the note would get the same treatment, but with more brutality.

Regina Mills was not one of these girls.

She was patient.

In class, she kept her eyes down and her mouth shut, closing herself off from the rest of her classmates and professors, though she excelled at her studies and was overly prepared for each and every exam and evaluation. Her skills were envied by her peers, but to this she was oblivious. In fact, she was oblivious to most things. She was elegant and poised, but never social. Though she was superbly beautiful, none of the young men dared approach her, for it was obvious that the only thing to follow would be rejection.

This, of course, immensely disappointed her wealthy, socially prominent parents. What they wanted more than anything else - other than a beautiful, elegant, perfect daughter completely void of flaws - was a daughter who would uphold their reputation. This, they did not have in Regina.

Her mother and father pressured her in each of their letters to the boarding school. 'Have you made any friends?' 'Have you found a respectable man yet?' 'When are you going to get a social life?' 'Don't disappoint us.' 'We're disappointed in you.' Almost as much as she hated the people (and her parents), she hated the school and the pressure that woke her each morning and put her to bed at night.

One thing she was grateful for was the windows, and the way they opened silently as she escaped from the darkness of the bedroom and washed herself in the light of the moon. It was her only chance to breathe free air, for the air inside was stale with expectations. On her own, outside, she leaned against the building and watched the stars, waiting for them to move or burst across the sky.

It was only when she was wandering the empty halls one night that she found her new solace. The sound poured from the enormous room like a cleansing wind, and it grabbed hold of her until she choked from desire. Unable to deny her impulses, she gave in and slowly opened the door, careful not to make a sound.

In the dim light, in a room she'd never been in, she saw something remarkable. A piano, and a beautiful young blonde, playing effortlessly, drawing music from the wooden basin of the instrument. Her eyes were closed.

Breathless and suddenly weak, Regina opened her ears and felt her heart beat with each note. Something about the sound pierced through her, stopping her from drawing air into her lungs. Her blood seemed to pump vigorously, without oxygen but full of life. Life. She was alive. And she was patient.

She waited, shrunken into the shadows, dreading the painful moment the music would stop, the moment she knew would come soon. But the sound poured from the piano for a long time, longer than she had expected, and she found herself filled with a kind of peace that kept her watching, kept her listening. Suddenly, in the middle of the song, the girl's eyes snapped open, and she looked around, making Regina's heart stop. The life seemed to drain out of her as she waited to be seen, but the moment didn't come. The girl gathered her sheet music, graceful hands clutching the books to her chest as though they were her very life force, and Regina watched as she slipped silently out the door and into the hallway.

Dort am Klavier

lauschte ich ihr

und wenn ihr Spiel begann

hielt ich den Atem an

(There, at the piano

I listened to her

and when her performance began

I held my breath)

The next night - and the next - Regina waited patiently in the shadows for the performance to begin. She held her breath as the girl entered the room, praying she wouldn't be discovered. She waited. She listened.

Each night, when the private concert was over, her heart sank inside, her like a dwindling fire. Each day, she looked for the girl in the hallway, but found her nowhere, which was strange, considering the small size of the school. Finally, at dinner one night, she spotted her sitting in the back of the room, at a table by herself, eating slowly. There was no mess, no crumbs. The girl ate with the elegance of royalty. Regina stared. She waited. She was patient.

It was on the weekend of parental visitation that she saw the girl once more during the day. And again, the girl was alone. Regina greeted her parents flatly, distracted by the girl with the halo of glowing yellow hair.

"Regina!" her mother snapped. "Did you hear me?"

She shook her head no, and her mother repeated herself. Though, again, she heard nothing. She nodded her head, indicating her understanding. Her father scowled at her, mumbled something about her failure as a daughter, and they departed without so much as a 'goodbye.'

That night, in the piano room, the song was soft and melancholy. The girl's head was lowered, and her eyes were shut again. As Regina watched, she saw sparkling, lonely tears shimmer on the blonde's cheeks. Regina swallowed hard. She thought hard. She breathed. The song stopped, but the tears did not.

Regina was patient.

But she had to do something. The aching tears of the song and the girl playing it were too much for her to bear silently, so, mustering every ounce of disheartened bravery she had, she stepped out of the shadows.

"I heard you playing," Regina choked. "You're very talented."

Upon hearing the sound, the girl's hand flew up to her face and vigorously wiped the tears from her eyes as she sniffled, trying to stop the flow of salty fluid from slipping from her eyes.

Boldly, Regina stepped forward and walked over until she stood directly beside the piano.

"Do you want to tell me what's wrong?"

The girl shook her head and started to sob, slamming her fists down on the keys, causing an agonizing scream of noise to escape the instrument. Regina jumped, startled by the sound, but didn't move away. Regina was patient, but just when she was about to open her mouth and announce that she was sorry and that she would leave immediately, the girl spoke.

"I'm so alone here."

Shocked by how a girl as beautiful as she could ever feel alone, Regina found herself unknowing of what to say. When she found the words, they were weak.

"Me too."

The girl lifted her head, tears washing over her cheeks, and looked into Regina's eyes, seeing the sincere ache of pity there. But there was something more. There was understanding.

"You've been watching me."

Regina gaped at her.

"You knew?"

The girl nodded.

"But you didn't stop," Regina pointed out.

"It was nice to have an audience, for once. You wouldn't have stayed if you thought I was terrible."

"You're wonderful," Regina breathed, glancing down at the girl's hands, which were still resting on the keys of the piano.

"Thank you," the girl said as a blush rose quickly to her cheeks.

Something about the color made Regina blush too.

"I don't know you," Regina said, pointing out what was obvious to both of them. "What's your name?"

"I'm Emma."

"That's..."

"What?" the girl said anxiously, when Regina trailed off.

"That's a beautiful name."

"Sit with me?" the girl asked slowly, pleading with her eyes.

Filled with fear and a complete lack of social skills, Regina lifted her dress just enough to sit down comfortably. Their shoulders brushed. Emma began to play.

Regina was patient as the songs went on well into the night. Every few measures, she would look over at the girl, watching for more tears. But they didn't come. They had dried on her cheeks, and no new ones joined them in their sorrow. Relieved to see the sign of sadness stop, the brunette smiled a little as she saw Emma's face begin to relax. The music gradually became less mournful, until, finally, it was jovial. The girl played with vivacity that Regina intensely admired. When the sound stopped, leaving the enormous room full of empty silence, Regina let out a quiet sigh and looked over at her new friend.

"You truly have a gift."

The girl shook her head, but a smile spread over her rosy lips. Regina imagined their softness, their texture, their taste, and once again turned red. Emma caught on instantly.

"What?"

"You. You're..."

"What?" the girl repeated, staring into Regina's eyes and refusing to break the gaze.

"Beautiful."

Then, Emma did something Regina never would have expected. She leaned in, and slowly, she let the smoothness of her lips grace the brunette's cheek.

Regina did not see the girl again the next day, but she was patient. She waited for darkness, then found her way back to the piano room, where Emma waited on the bench with her hands folded in her lap. Regina was surprised to discover only silence.

"Why aren't you playing?"

"I was waiting for you."

Regina was taken aback by this. Surely, this had to be some kind of a joke. She'd never had anyone care for her presence before, especially not a young woman as beautiful as the one sitting at the piano.

"I'm glad," was all she could say.

"Sit with me," Emma requested, patting the bench beside her.

Regina accepted the invitation and sat with her hand gripping the edge of the seat. Emma began to play, and Regina waited patiently for the song to end, reveling in each note and letting the sound enfold her. When the music stopped, she saw Emma yawn and smiled at her.

"Tired?" Regina asked softly, waiting for Emma to meet her eyes.

"A little. But I want to keep playing for you."

"For me?"

"Yes. For you. I've never had anyone to play for before. You're the first person who's ever cared."

Regina was quiet through the next three songs, until Emma yawned again.

"Come on," the brunette began. "Let's get to bed."

Reluctantly, Emma nodded her head, but she looked unsure and bit her lip.

"Will you meet me here tomorrow night?"

"Of course I will, Emma," Regina promised softly.

Again to Regina's surprise, Emma reached out and tucked a lock of the brunette's hair behind her ear.

"I'm not alone anymore."

"No, you're not."

"Neither are you."

This realization hit Regina like a cool splash of water, making her shiver. There was something dangerous about this, Regina told herself, understanding all too well that having someone meant losing them.

Their meetings went on for almost a month, each night with Emma extending some physical gesture of friendship. At least, Regina received it as friendship. Still, she blushed. The next time they met, though, something was different. That time, when Regina met Emma in the piano room, the brunette's hands were overflowing with a large, delicate bundle of flowers.

"These are for you," she explained, handing them to Emma, who took them with shaking hands.

"But why?"

"Because you deserve them."

"Thank you, Regina," Emma said softly, leaning in and pressing her lips to the girl's cheek.

"You're welcome, princess. I just hope you like them. I tried to pick ones that were as beautiful as you, but I failed. Of course, it wasn't possible."

Oh my God, Regina was thinking. What did I just say?

But before Regina could attempt to cover her tracks, her words soaked with embarrassment, Emma moved forward and slipped her arms around the girl's neck, still holding the flowers. This time, it was Regina's lips that she kissed.

"I don't know how else I can thank you," Emma explained, "and I've wanted to do that for a long time."

Instead of speaking, Regina, breathless, took the girl's face in her hands and kissed her again, silently whispering the words she couldn't say.

Regina Mills was patient, and even though social skills were not part of her repertoire, her patience paid off.