Saturday night was not supposed to be this miserable.
Two days ago, Hook and Neal had stormed out of Granny's, leaving her to stew in her (admittedly childish) misery. Later that night, Emma had tried to call both of them, but neither picked up.
Neal was angrier with her than he'd been in a long time, which really shook her. Neal never got angry, at least not with her. It was one of the things she loved and hated most about him. He had a total of three emotions: hungry, tired, and bored. Every time she brought up anything remotely emotional, he would either joke his way out of it or stare at her indifferently until she'd finished talking. It was frustrating, but refreshing: her parents always wanted to drag out every emotional conflict they encountered, talking about it until it left them all feeling drained and exhausted and out of breath. Neal was content to let things slide, and go on relaxing through life.
So to see him actually....feeling was kind of terrifying.
But Hook's behavior was even more unsettling. She knew that no matter how angry or upset he was, he would never pass up the opportunity to talk to her. Any chance he got to tell her he loved her, to try to convince her to love him back, to tell her that he would do anything for her, blah blah blah...he would take it. So, if he was no longer hanging on her every word, her every move, that could only mean one thing. He was over her.
And that pissed her off more than anything.
Neal was one thing; she could never really get a straight answer out of him. She knew he loved her and all, but he never said it, never talked about it. It was just an unspoken understanding between the two of them. Hook smothered her in love and romance, making grand speeches and even breaking out the man-tears, if he felt the situation called for it. Normally, it drove her crazy and she felt suffocated just being in the same room as him. But now that he had stopped...she kind of missed it.
Especially now as she sat alone at her table in Granny's, glowering across the room at Hook and Ruby on what looked suspiciously like a date.
"Oh, would you just shut up," she muttered disgustedly. watching Ruby giggle, playfully smacking his arm. Hook grinned over the top of his glass, raising an eyebrow. Emma felt her jaw drop in indignation. She knew that look. That was her look! Why was Ruby seeing that look? That wasn't for her! That bitch was stealing her look!
"You seem upset."
Emma raised her eyes to see Regina standing over her, frowning curiously. Emma looked at her for a second before taking another swig from her glass. "I'm fine."
Regina looked around awkwardly. "Er..." She carefully tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "May, uh—" she gestured toward the chair—"may I sit?"
Emma blinked in surprise. "Uh...yeah. Sure."
Regina took her seat, still looking uncomfortable. Their relationship was a confusing one. It wasn't quite a friendship, but there was a mutual respect and concern for the other's well-being. Sharing a son had brought them closer, but it hadn't done much to endear them to each other.
"Um..." Regina tapped the table, not meeting Emma's eyes. "Look, normally I wouldn't bother...I mean, I honestly couldn't care less about your personal life—"
"Thanks, Regina. I'm really touched."
Regina gave her an annoyed look. "I couldn't care less about your personal life," she repeated. "But I respect you too much to allow you to upset yourself over—" she waved her hand dismissively—"him."
"I'm not upset—"
"Emma, I'm trying to be supportive right now, could you please not talk?"
Emma raised her eyebrows. "...Okay."
Regina took a breath. "Hook's a slut."
"Jumping right in there, aren't you?"
Regina gave her a look that clearly said, If you can't shut your mouth, I'll do it for you, so help me God. "I don't care how sweet he is or how cute you think he is—he's a slut. And sluts of a feather slut together. It was only a matter of time before he and Lady Gaga over there got together." She rolled her eyes as Ruby let out a ridiculously loud laugh. "You're wasting your time getting jealous, especially when you've got a bigger problem on your hands."
Emma frowned. "Did something happen with Henry?"
Regina played with the ring around her middle finger, not answering.
Emma narrowed her eyes. "What is it?"
"It could be nothing, but..." Regina reluctantly looked at her, twisting her mouth to the side. "I caught Henry in my vault the other night."
"And that's a problem because...?"
"Because now my magic book is missing." Regina went back to twisting her ring. "I don't know if he took it...and if he did, I don't know what he plans to do with it, but I don't want to jump to conclusions and accuse him of anything. He's been so...weird about everything lately, I don't want to make things worse."
"But you're worried he might be trying to do magic?"
"I'm worried he might be trying to get magic." Regina looked at her intensely. "Henry's got a lot of magic in his bloodline. You. Your parents. Rumplestiltskin. I read that book to reawaken my magic. He could be trying to read it to awaken his." She stood up abruptly. "So. There you go. Something better to worry about than the scarlet harlot."
Emma choked on her drink. "Scarlet harlot?"
"That's right."
Emma stared at her, shaking her head bemusedly. "H-h-how do you come up with these names? What are you, writing a book or something?"
Regina stared back expressionlessly. "It amuses me." She straightened her scarf. "Good-bye, Emma."
Emma raised a hand in farewell, letting it drop as Regina exited the diner. She wasn't sure what to think about Henry. He had been pretty distant lately, but she'd assumed it was just to do with being a teenager. Plus, Regina was overprotective, not to mention a little paranoid. It could be nothing.
But that definitely wasn't.
Emma glared as Ruby's hand lingered a little too long on Hook's. Oh, really? she thought, gripping her glass tightly. We'll just see about that, won't we, Miss Fifteen-Unpaid-Parking-Tickets.
She pushed herself up from the table, staggering slightly. She wasn't drunk; she was pissed. And pissed Emma was ten times worse than drunk Emma.
She strode over, hands in fists, breathing hard through her nose. Hook and Ruby looked up, startled, as she reached their table, slamming her hands flat on the surface. "Well, if it isn't Tweedle-slut and Tweedle-sluttier?" She looked between the two of them, smiling. "You two enjoying your night?"
"Were," Hook said pointedly, not quailing under her gaze. "You enjoying your stakeout?"
Emma squinted her eyes at him, trying to think of a biting retort. He tilted his head, smiling sarcastically. Ruby looked between the two of them, biting her lip.
"As it happens," Emma said, mirroring Hook's smile, "I am enjoying my stakeout."
He raised his eyebrows coolly. "Well, that's good. After all, Emma, your happiness—" he placed his hand on his heart—"is my happiness."
Emma smiled grew strained as she struggled not to punch the smirk right off his smirky face. "Well, okay then," she said, forcing her smile. "I guess I'll leave you guys to it." She drummed her hands on the table awkwardly, and straightened up. "I've got better things to do than listen to you two compare mascara brands anyway."
"You mean like, sucking the will to live out of innocent people?" Hook called after her as she turned to leave. Emma turned around slowly, narrowing her eyes at him. He lifted his glass, taking a sip without breaking eye contact. She folded her arms, looking at him incredulously.
"Excuse me?"
Hook raised his eyebrows over his glass. "I said, 'have a nice night'."
Emma laughed disbelievingly, shaking her head. "You," she said, walking back slowly, "are such an asshole."
"Oh, is that so?"
"Yes, that is so." She stopped in front of him, her mouth twisted in a derisive smile. "I don't know what I ever saw in you."
"You didn't see anything in me," he snorted. "You took advantage of me—not like that," he added as Ruby gasped.
"I didn't take advantage of you! What are you talking about, you...you...uh—"
"Should I—" Hook waved his hand, frowning at her—"wait for you to think of an insult? Or would you rather just pretend you came up with a real zinger, so I can talk?"
Emma glared at him, slightly shaking her head in disgust. "I hate you, you know that?"
"Oh, really?"
"Yes, really. I really hate you. I-I hate your stupid earring, okay—I hate y-your stupid little rings and shit—"
"Okay, great, Emma, you hate my jewelry, you really know how to wound a man—"
"—I hate your eyeliner, I mean, what the hell is up with that, anyway? You looking like a friggin' call girl—"
"Ooh, Emma, no, don't talk about the eyeliner, it's not like no one's ever used that against me before—"
"—and I hate that stupid coat you wore! Shredding that piece of crap was the biggest favor anyone has ever done for you—"
"—talking about my coat, like it's seriously going to hurt my feelings, right? Because I actually believe my merits as a human being are founded on that coat—"
"—and I hate hate hate th-that big puffy shirt thing you used to wear—"
"—by all means, keep talking about how much you hate my clothes, it's really hurting my feelings—"
"SHUT UP!" Granny roared, silverware clattering as she slammed a tray down.
The entire diner fell silent as everyone turned to stare at them. Emma and Hook focused on the ground as Granny continued reprimanding them.
"If you two can't behave yourselves, then get the hell out of my diner! You are not the only people in town with drama—you're just the only assholes in town with the balls to perform it for everyone! So! Either shut up or take it outside!" Granny stalked back into the kitchen, leaving Hook and Emma to awkwardly avoid everyone's gaze and stare at their shoes.
The other customers gradually went back to their business, the sounds of eating and talking replacing the awkward silence. Ruby coughed.
"I think I'll... call it a night." She got up from the table, not looking at either of them as she maneuvered her way around Emma. "I'll, uh...I'll call you tomorrow," she said to Hook. He nodded slowly, tracing the pattern on the table cloth.
Emma kept her eyes on the floor as Ruby walked away. Once Ruby was gone, Emma blew out her breath, swinging her arms together awkwardly.
"So... "
Hook glared up at her. Emma stared back blandly.
"What?"
"Seriously, Emma?" He swung himself up from the table, brushing past her none too gently. Emma stared after him, waiting a moment before following him out the diner.
"What?" she repeated, following him down the steps. "I don't get it, what's your deal?"
He didn't reply; Emma frowned, picking up her pace to catch up with him. She reached out and grabbed his arm to turn him around. "Why are you being so bitchy?"
"Not in the middle of the road, Emma," he said, tugging his arm out of her grip. Emma heaved a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes.
"Fine. Sidewalk, come on."
"I don't want to talk to you."
"Why not?"
He turned around so suddenly, she let out a little yelp. "Shrill little woman: go away."
She blinked. "Huh?"
"Go away!" he repeated loudly, throwing his arms up. "Just go away! I am so tired of dealing with you, please just go away!"
Emma felt her jaw drop. "You're tired of dealing with me?" she said incredulously.
Hook smiled at her through clenched teeth. "That's right!"
"Really?"
"Yup."
"The man who's been pining after me for two years is just—"she shrugged, waving her hand—"all of a sudden, tired of dealing with me?"
"Yes, you want to know why?" He took a step closer, making her flinch. "Because you are a very difficult woman!"
She gasped indignantly. "I am not!"
"You're not difficult? Really? Then how come you yell at me, twenty-four hours a day for doing nothing but whatever you tell me to do? How come you don't defend me when your mother climbs on her I-Hate-Hook soapbox? How come you make fun of me every time I say anything slightly romantic?"
"Because nobody talks like that!" Emma said frustratedly. "You weird me out!"
"I'm from a different world, Emma!" he shouted. "What do you want from me?"
"To stop weirding me out!"
"You—!" His eyes widened before he squeezed them shut tightly, pinching his forefingers to the bridge of his nose. "Oh, my God, I hate you. Oh, my GOD, I hate you! You are such a—!" He stamped the ground in frustration and threw his arms out. "YOU'RE A BITCH!"
She blinked rapidly in disbelief, rendered almost speechless. "What?"
"I finally said it! Yeah! You're a bitch, Emma! You are a MAJOR. FUCKING. BITCH."
She stared at him with wide eyes, slowly raising her arm to point at him accusingly. "You said the 'F' word," she breathed.
"Yeah, because that is the only word I can think of that even comes close to describing just how much of a bitch you are!" Hook stared at her for a moment, breathing heavily. Then, his voice slightly trembling with suppressed rage—
"I do whatever you want, whenever you want, no questions asked. I helped you get the compass. I helped you find your kid. I saved your father from dream-shade. And then, when we got back to this stupid little piece of crap town, I stayed. I could have gone in my ship, and left, but I didn't. I stayed for you. And ever since then—" his voice rose—" I've been fetching you coffee, bringing you lunch, babysitting your kid—who, by the way, hates me more than the Bubonic Plague—running this errand and that errand, going here and going there, it's always, 'do this, Hook', and 'do that, Hook', and 'why are you such an idiot, Hook?' and 'isn't it funny how he wears his heart on his sleeve, and I stamp all over it in my not-fooling-anyone-high-heeled-boots?'" He closed his eyes, and spoke more quietly. "I can't...take it anymore. I look at you and all I can think about it..."
Emma squeezed her eyes shut. Please don't make a romantic speech, please don't make a romantic speech.
"...I was a pirate captain."
She opened her eyes and frowned. "Huh?"
"I was a pirate captain, Emma," he wailed, his shoulders sagging. "People used to be afraid of me. I had a reputation. People—people used to hear my name, a-a-and start shaking. With fear." He looked at her intensely. "Literally shaking."
"Oh..."
"I used to walk into taverns, and people would stop talking. Just to stare at how famous I was."
"That's...cool? I don't—"
"And now? Now I walk around town and you know what people say? They don't say, 'There goes Captain Hook, the most infamous dastardly pirate captain on the high seas! He'll stab you faster than look at you!' They say, 'Oh, look. There goes the guy Emma keeps stringing along, just so he'll do stuff for her.'"
"Yes, but to be fair..." Emma looked up at him cautiously. "I highly doubt anyone would have time to say the first one."
"And I'm sick of doing stuff for you! I do everything for you, I gave up everything for you, and you don't even blink! You just assume I'll always be there because I can't live without you! Well, guess what, darling? I managed to get through the first three hundred years without you bitching in my ear every day—I think I can manage!"
He turned on his heel and started stalking off into the darkness, leaving Emma to stare after him, stunned.
"And," he called, walking backwards for a moment, " at least Milah said thank you!"
Emma gasped. He brought up...Milah?
Now that was low.
Okay, fine, you want to play that game? "Oh, yeah?" she shouted. "Well, at least Graham wasn't a complete slut! Who probably had Hepatitus's A through Z! Not to mention scurvy or cabin fever or whatever the hell kind of disease pirates get from porting—docking—stopping, I DON'T KNOW THE PIRATE TERMINOLOGY, OKAY?"
"Go to hell, Emma!"
"Fine! she shouted furiously, throwing up her arms. "I will!"
She stood there, breathing heavily, until the sounds of his footsteps had faded away.
"I'll go to hell?" she repeated incredulously, shaking her head. "Jesus Christ, Emma...what are you doing to me?"
Belle glared at the T.V., her head resting in one hand, her elbow propped up on the couch. Rumple was sitting in his armchair, spooning Shredded Wheat into his mouth as he watched the screen. Belle flicked her eyes to him, staring as he dipped his spoon in the bowl—brought it to his mouth—carefully took the bite—chewed, swallowed—and dipped the spoon back in the bowl. Belle watched him, clenching her fists, trying not to scream into irritation.
"Rumple," she said quietly.
"Mmm?"
"Rumple."
"What?"
Belle snatched the remote and shut the T.V. off. "Could you look at me for two seconds?" she snapped. Rumple turned his head.
"I was watching that," he said, sounding betrayed.
"Rumple!" she flared up.
"Okay, okay!" he said irritably, and set the bowl down. "What? What's the problem?"
"The problem is—" she clutched at her hair, suddenly overcome by frustration—"this, Rumple! The late-night cereal! The going-to bed at eight-thirty! The staying-home every night because Sixty Minutes is on! We're an old married couple, and I'm not even old!"
Rumple stared at her in alarm, stunned by her outburst. "Okay," he said nervously. "What do you want me to do?"
Belle threw her head into her hands exasperatedly. "Rumple," she whined, almost about to cry from frustration. "I want to do something. Anything. I can't take this, just sitting at home." She lifted her head up. "Do you know what the highlight of my week was?" she asked, twisting her head to look at him. He didn't answer; just watched her warily. "Taking Hook shopping."
His features stiffened. Rumple put up with Hook for Belle's sake, but he still didn't like him—particularly when his wife said things like that. "Really."
"You want to know why?"
Rumple narrowed his eyes and folded his arms. "Do I?"
Belle rolled her eyes. "Stop pouting."
"I'm not pouting," he said through gritted teeth.
"I was getting out of the house and doing something," Belle said frustratedly. "I had a social life, for a brief moment."
"What are you talking about? You go out every day!" Rumple argued. "You go to the library, don't you?"
"Yes! To work!" she cried exasperatedly. "I'm not talking about work, I'm talking about getting out just for the hell of it! Rumple," she said, lowering her voice and taking his hand, "we used to do things all the time. We'd go out for walks...have lunch... go dancing—"
"I don't remember any of this," Rumple frowned.
"Because we only did that before we got married," Belle sighed. "Once we did...we just lost that—that spark, you know? We stopped trying." She was quiet for a minute, reflecting. "And you really skimped on the ceremony."
Rumple raised his eyebrows, offended. "Are you calling me 'cheap'?"
"That wedding sucked ass, Rumple, and you know it!" she said, glaring at him. Rumple stared at her with wide eyes.
"Okay," he said cautiously. "So, what do you want, a re-do?"
Belle looked at him, breathing heavily. "What?"
"A re-do. Do you want to re-do it?"
"Re-do what?"
"The wedding, Belle," he said, irritation creeping into his voice. "Do you want to re-do the wedding, or what?"
She blinked. "Like a... like a vow renewal?"
He waved his hand indifferently. "Yeah. Sure. Vow renewal."
She scoffed. "We've only been married two years."
"So?" he shrugged.
"So, don't people usually wait, like, thirty years to do a vow renewal?"
Rumple closed his eyes exasperatedly. "Okay, Belle...you have two options. Vow renewal, or bitch for the rest of your life and no vow renewal. What do you want?"
"Vow renewal," she said instantly. "Of course I want a vow renewal, I was just saying—"
"Well, all right then," he said loudly. "We'll do the vow renewal." He switched the T.V. back on and returned to his cereal.
Belle looked at him, surprised. "You...you really want to do the vow renewal?"
He glanced over at her. "I don't want to do the vow renewal," he said, swallowing. "But you want to. So we'll do it."
She broke into a smile. "Rumple," she beamed, scooting closer to him so she could wrap one arm around his shoulder. He smiled, but didn't pause in his T.V.-watching or cereal-eating. "So...you'll let me pick out everything? My dress, the venue, the food, the flowers, the music, the—?"
"Sweetheart, what makes you think I want to pick out any of that?" He put the bowl down and looked at her. "I know you didn't get the wedding you wanted... Go nuts. Just don't ask me for opinions, because the only part I intend to play in all this is paying for it."
She narrowed her eyes. "You also have to be part of the ceremony, Rumple. You realize that, don't you?"
He squeezed his eyes shut and mouthed, Damn it. "Of course, I realize that," he said, opening his eyes and smiling innocently. "But apart from saying my lines—"
"Vows, dedicating your life to mine, but whatever."
"—this is for you." He took her hand. "This is your party. I'm just there to look pretty."
Belle smiled. "Good." She hugged him before hopping off the couch and walking toward the kitchen.
"Where are you going?" Rumple called after her.
"I have to call Hook. I'm going to make him go dress-shopping with me."
Henry frustratedly threw back the covers and glared into the darkness. He couldn't sleep. He hadn't been able to sleep for the past two days, ever since Regina had caught him in her vault. He had mumbled something about leaving his textbook there, managing to smuggle the magic book away under his jacket, but she still looked at him suspiciously. She hadn't said anything about it, but Henry could tell she hadn't let it go.
He had stowed the book under a loose floorboard in his room the second he got home, but had been too afraid to pull it out and look at it since. But it was dark now. Everyone was asleep.
No one would see him.
He silently crept out of bed and tip-toed over to the floorboard. He eased his nails under it, flinching when it squeaked slightly. Ever so gently, he placed the board to the side and pulled out the book with shaking hands. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest as he looked down at it.
He was reluctant to open it. Not because he was scared or anything...well, maybe slightly. But it wasn't fear keeping the book closed: it was guilt.
Neal had taken him out for a bite earlier, so they could hang out. They hadn't gone to Granny's, at Henry's request: he wasn't quite up to seeing Ruby fawn over Hook, but all he told Neal was he was sick of the wallpaper. Neal raised his eyebrows, but didn't pry; they went to the White Rabbit instead. It wasn't until the waitress had brought them their burgers and fries that either of them said anything.
"You want to tell me what's going on, kid?" Neal said, idly twisting a fry.
Henry shrugged. "Sure," he said, stabbing holes into his burger with a fork. "After you tell me what's going on."
Neal raised an eyebrow, sizing him up. Henry stared back with half-lidded eyes, refusing to break under pressure. Neal blinked at him; Henry blinked back. There was a silence as both waited for the other to cave.
"You're getting good," Neal said finally, hiding a proud smile. Henry took a sip of water, so Neal wouldn't see him grin at the compliment.
They didn't show emotion. They were men.
"All right. I'll make you a deal," Neal said as Henry put down his glass. "We sum it up in one sentence, we say it at the same time, and then we forget about it, okay?"
Henry nodded, considering the deal. "Sounds like a plan."
"Okay. Count of three, all right? One...two...three—"
"Hook stole my girlfriend—DAD!"
Neal had stayed silent and was now snorting into his beer. Henry groaned and threw his head in hands, utterly humiliated. Neal laughed, reaching over to ruffle his hair.
"Hey, it's all right, buddy. Been there."
"You didn't say anything," Henry said in a muffled voice. "We were supposed to say it at the same time."
"Come on, Henry," Neal said, caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement."I mean, did you really fall for that?"
"Apparently, I did," he sighed, lifting his head. Neal smiled at him crookedly.
"So... you want to tell me who this girlfriend of yours is? And please tell me she's older than you," he added. "I mean, I know how Hook is, but I'd hate to think he's actually stooped to picking up fourteen-year-old girls."
Henry picked at his food. "Ruby."
Neal's eyebrows shot up. "Okay, so she is older than you."
"Well, she's not exactly my girlfriend," Henry explained. "I just..."
"I gotcha, I gotcha," Neal smiled, waving his hand. "So, Ruby, huh?" He nodded, considering. "Yeah, she's cute."
Henry looked up incredulously. "Cute?"
Neal choked on his drink, and coughed. "I'm sorry," he said as Henry stared at him in disbelief. "I meant...super-duper, burning-my-eyes-out, crazy-hot."
"Yeah, well, Hook seems to think so," Henry grumbled, going back to squashing his fries. Neal watched him silently.
"Do you want to...do you want to, like, talk about it...or something?"
Henry shook his head immediately. He was like his dad: talking about things didn't help—that just drew them out for longer than they needed to be.
Neal blew out a slow breath. "Well..."
Henry raised his eyes: Neal was scratching the back of his head, obviously hesitating. Henry frowned. "You okay?"
"I, uh... I kinda had a fight with your mom," Neal said, avoiding Henry's gaze.
"About what?" He narrowed his eyes. "Not Hook?"
Neal scoffed. "No. Believe me, this one is on Emma."
Henry carefully schooled his surprised expression into a bored one. "What happened?"
"Eh..." Neal shrugged dismissively. "She just...I don't know, Henry, I shouldn't be telling you about this."
"Dad—"
"Nah, you got enough to worry about. I mean, some other dude stole your almost-girlfriend. That's not cool."
They had spent the rest of the evening thinking of creative ways to get revenge on Hook (at one point, Neal had eyed Henry warily after he came up with a particularly disturbing method of disposing of the body). Eventually, Neal walked him back to the loft; he gave him a one-armed hug.
"Don't worry about Ruby, Henry," he said. "She gets distracted by shiny objects, and Hook's just another shiny object, okay?"
Henry smiled derisively. "He does wear a lot of jewelry."
"There you go," Neal grinned, nudging him inside. "I'll see you tomorrow, kid."
I'll see you tomorrow, kid. Neal's words echoed in his brain now. Would he be able to face him tomorrow? He was sitting here, holding a magic book, actually thinking about using it! After everything magic had done to destroy his father's life...
But it was also magic that had allowed Rumple to find him again...which had allowed Henry to find him. Should he really be feel guilty for using magic? Henry shook his head, trying to clear it. Stop it, he told himself sternly. You're using guilt as an excuse to bail. Suck it up, Mills.
He wasn't sure if that was true or not, but he had made up his mind. He threw on a hoodie and a pair of jeans, stuffed the book into his backpack along with the handful of jars and vials he had stolen from Regina's vault, and snuck down the stairs. Emma was lying on the couch, her headphones still blaring against her slight snoring. She had fallen asleep listening to angry metal music, still seething about whatever happened earlier that night. Henry hadn't asked because it couldn't have had anything to do with Neal—that only left Hook, and he really didn't need to know the details of their relationship.
He eased his way out of the loft, only breathing once he had closed the door behind him. Then he raced down the stairs,worried that going any slower would have given him time to change his mind. He didn't bother pulling out his bike; the well was in the middle of the woods, it would have been easier to just go on foot.
He ran, jumping tree roots and fallen logs every so often, ignoring the mud spattering onto his jeans (even though he knew Regina would throw a fit). By the time he reached the well, his face was stinging with the chill of the October night. The moon was nearly full, its light shining through the tree leaves in speckled rays.
He breathed in shakily, looking down the well. It was impossible to tell the depth of it: he could see a few feet of dimly lit stones, but after that it might as well have been a black hole. He took out the jars and vials with trembling hands, squinting in the moonlight to see what he had swiped. He hadn't looked at labels or studied the contents at the time; he just tossed in whatever he could fit after the book. He wasn't sure why; it just seemed to fit, once he started stealing magic to...keep on stealing.
Well, he was his father's son!
Feeling considerably more cheerful now, he placed the vials on the side of the well (carefully! He didn't want to chance them rolling away) so he wouldn't lose them in the grass. Lastly, he brought out the book. Henry stroked the cover, tracing the strange gold letters with his finger. Taking a deep breath, he propped it against the edge and opened it.
There was the sound of wind swirling, echoing through the depths of the well. Henry felt his heart pound.
"Shit," he breathed. "Did I wake something up?" He squinted, trying to see through the blackness, but as far as he could tell, there was nothing. Was that magic? Henry frowned. Should there have been some big swirly cloud or something? How was he supposed to be able to tell when he'd accomplished something?
He slumped. Maybe this was a stupid idea. He didn't even really know what he was doing. Maybe he'd be better off sticking to storybooks and goody-two-shoeing through life.
He closed the book and turned to grab the vials when—"Umph!"—he tripped over his stupid backpack, one of his arms flinging out to break his fall...
"SHIT!" he yelled, not caring who heard him. His arm had swung out, knocking the vials into the well. Cursing angrily, he scrambled to his feet, bending over the well as far as he could without falling in.
"Hello?" he called nervously, hardly breathing. "Hello?" He frowned, shaking his head. "Who the hell am I talking to?"
He pushed himself away from the edge, slinging his backpack on one arm. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he turned to walk away. It was a dumb idea to begin with. Why he ever thought he could actually—
"Hello?" a voice called out. "Hello, is someone there?"
Henry froze. That voice was too familiar...it was impossible—
"Hello? Please, can you help me?"
It was coming from the well.