Eugene stares at the door.
It isn't a particularly thick door, nor is it an especially interesting door. He knows that he can pick the lock easily- but that isn't a very good idea, considering the fact that the King, Queen, maids, and a guard are all standing behind him, red-faced, wringing their hands nervously and muttering to one another. He can feel their eyes on his back and suddenly, all the queasiness that he hasn't felt since he woke up comes rushing back.
"Rapunzel," he calls again. "Open the door."
He stares at the door some more, but nothing happens. Eugene presses his ear to it and listens: he half-expects to a faint sobbing, or frantic whispers, or something- but he can't hear anything. Not a sound.
He turns around, feeling especially stupid- because maybe the cream-colored jacket with the golden tassels and the heavy maroon pants and the sun-emblazoned black boots that pinch his toes in the most uncomfortable way might have been worth enduring if Rapunzel were out here, dressed to match him- to complement him. But now, without her, Eugene just feels ridiculous.
"Nothing," he says, turning to face the King and Queen. "I can't hear her."
The King glances at his wife and the Queen glances at the door. The King and Queen don't speak much, especially to him, but their faces reveal more than he could think possible. For example, right now, the King's eyebrow is raised and his mustache hangs above his mouth at an odd angle- but he might as well be saying Get my daughter of there, Mr. Fitzherbert, because someone's got to do it and it might as well be you.
And then he grasps the Queen's slender hand and they walk away,
One of the maids leans over and stretches over the creases in his jacket and another rubs some more rouge on his cheeks- and then they all scurry after the King and Queen, leaving Eugene alone.
He wipes the stupid makeup off his cheek- why do they keep doing that? He's a man, for God's sake, and he's not going to wear that clown garbage- and then he finds himself staring at the door again.
"Rapunzel," he says again, feeling more like an idiot every time; "Rapunzel, open the door."
He presses his ear to the door again and hears a strange sound. He pulls back, knocks once more, and the sound comes again- louder, distinctly like a strange sort of hiccup. But not a human one.
"Come on, babe. Are you okay?" Eugene rests his forehead against the cool wood. The anxiousness in his stomach that he's managed to stifle all morning is churning uncomfortably in his stomach. He's not doing this for himself. He would never have gotten up so early and put goddamn makeup on and pulled on red pants for anyone-
Anyone but Rapunzel.
There's another hiccup.
"That's it," Eugene says suddenly, picking his head up and seizing the doorknob. "I'm coming in." He makes a big deal of banging around, fiddling with the handle, clicking it this way and that as if he's picking a lock- and finally, the door rattles on the other side.
Click.
Another frenzied hiccup.
The door only opens a crack, enough for one big, green eye to poke through and eye Eugene- his face, which probably looks ridiculous with red powder smeared over his cheek- and the rest of him- in an oddly suspicious manner. He leans against the doorframe.
"You going to let me in?"
"No," she says. "Go away."
Eugene raises an eyebrow.
"You're not supposed to see me in my dress."
Now both eyebrows are up.
"It's bad luck."
He doesn't say anything, but presses a palm against the door, countering Rapunzel's pressure. The door slides open just a bit more- enough for him to see the rest of Rapunzel's face. And though he would never admit it, his heart skips a beat. She's radiant- glowing- and her eyes burn a bright green and her eyelashes hang long and soft and her lips are painted a deep red and the veil that floats down from the glittering crown on her head is light and lacy, like snow. She looks like an angel, dammit- beautiful.
"How could something so pretty be bad luck?" he murmurs, leaning in to kiss her, because he hasn't touched Rapunzel for two long days and he misses her in a deep, longing kind of way and he's never seen her in makeup before and that lipstick is driving him wild and-
But she pushes him away. "What's that on your face?"
Eugene's face burns. His hand twitches.
"I'll tell you if you let me in."
His eyes trace Rapunzel's face and he can almost see the gears clicking inside of her head as she thinks it over, thin, brown eyebrows furrowed. Finally, she sighs and steps backwards, opening the door wider.
Eugene pushes his way inside, wrapping a hand around her slender waist and pulling her closer, burrowing his nose into her-
But Rapunzel squirms out of his grasp again and trips over her skirts as she dashes behind a dull leather armchair and strokes her dress nervously. Her face suddenly looks pale and childish in the washed-out gray light coming from the windows. Eugene lets his mind wander for a second, but all he can think of is it looks like rain.
The odd hiccupping noise comes again. And it's not Rapunzel. His eyes dart to an upturned box in the corner- a box that's chirping and whirring and trembling frantically.
"What's that?" he asks, reaching for her, but Rapunzel squeaks with fright and stumbles backwards, landing on her knees behind a polished oak coffee table. She quickly plasters a pained smile onto her face.
Eugene stands there awkwardly in front of the door for a second, and then closes the door and steps farther into the room, pushing the armchair aside. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"
Rapunzel shrugs her shoulders, the smile frozen in place. "I don't know what you're talking about." She pulls herself in tighter, like a little hedgehog in flowing white skirts, and shoots a half-glance at the shaking box before her eyes dart back to Eugene's knees. "I... nothing's going on."
But she's blinking far too quickly.
"Rapunzel." He keeps his voice firm, despite the uneasiness building in his stomach. "We... it's time. The ceremony's about to start." And what is she doing down there? Suddenly, a terrible idea strikes Eugene- what if she'd rather stay there? What if she doesn't want the ceremony? What if... what if Rapunzel doesn't want-
Hic!
He tries to keep his face calm, expressionless, but Eugene can feel the panic blazing in his eyes. The embarrassment. Because it's finally happening. Rapunzel's finally realized that she doesn't have to settle- doesn't have to settle for him, a lowly thief, a man whose original intentions had been to trick her and steal her crown, a man who doesn't belong in the castle, a man who certainly doesn't belong with her in that way. A man who shouldn't be the one she binds herself to. And then what?
Rapunzel looks at him desperately and swipes a palm over her nose. Her eyes brim with something silver and wet.
Eugene is numb all over, but he forces himself to swallow and lean down, mentally preparing himself for his valet to attack the creases on his trousers when he steps back out. He reaches for Rapunzel's wet cheek, but she seizes his wrist and stops him, shaking her head.
"I can't," she whispers hoarsely.
He stares at her. And this time it's her face that's a door, completely unreadable and just a little frightening. Because when she's this close, he can see every brown freckle on her upturned nose, and he just wants to touch her, and why can't she just spare him that tiny comfort?
"I'm sorry," he says lamely.
Rapunzel coughs and shakes her head again. "N-no, it's not you, Eugene, it's... it's Pascal." She looks at the box, which is shaking violently. Her voice drops back to a whisper as she sniffs loudly. "He... he can't find blue."
Hic.
Eugene stares at her blankly.
"What?"
Hic.
"M-my manners coach said th-that for a wedding, you need-" –sniff- "...something old, something new, something-" –sniff- "borrowed, and something... something b-blue." Rapunzel's eyes are watering freely and Eugene's frozen, gaping at her like a fish out of water. "And Pascal was going to be my something blue, b-but..." -she gasps for breath- "...he can't find blue!"
Hic!
As if on cue, the box falls on its side. Underneath is Pascal, who seems to be in hysterics as he chirps and whirrs and hiccups with a horrible desperation, circling around and around in place, flashing every color on the rainbow and some that aren't: one second, he's a brilliant vermillion; the next, a bittersweet cinnamon- and a second later, he's a shocking shade of pink, followed by the lightest of greens. Eugene tries to control the strangled relief from spilling out of his mouth.
So it wasn't him. It was the... frog thing. Pascal.
But his fiancée is still crying.
Hic!
Without saying a word, Eugene leans over the coffee table fruit bowl, picks up a blueberry, and throws it at the frog. It squeaks angrily, stumbling backwards, and then stops as it spots the delightful morsel. There's a horrible second where Pascal turns brown after it swallows the blueberry...
HIC.
But then it burps, and the brown blossoms into a vibrant blue, so deep and dark it's almost purple-
Pascal squeals with delight and Rapunzel breaks out into a watery smile as he comes scuttling back to rest on her shoulder, looking at Eugene reproachfully despite all he's done for him, the pathetic creep. He glares at him before turning back to her- and why is she still crying?- because tears are still streaming down her face, and she's still hunched behind the coffee table...
"It's okay," he says quietly, and she allows him to run a thumb over her cheek, wiping the wet trails off her face and smudging the makeup on her face. "See? Pascal's blue. It's okay." Pascal nods and nuzzles her neck, but this time it's Rapunzel who hiccups. And buries her face in her dress.
"Nhhgh annhh ggunnh," she sobs, shoulders heaving.
Eugene swallows nervously. "Blondie?" He resists the urge to run his hands through her hair. That would only mess it up- and the maids would probably bludgeon him to death with feather dusters if Rapunzel walked down the aisle with a single hair out of place. Ignoring that gruesome thought, Eugene tucks a runaway lock of hair behind her ear and slips a hand under her head to tilt her chin upwards, so he can look her in those gorgeously green eyes that are, right now, tinged with red.
"I... I just want to say that..." God, why can't he say anything without sounding like a complete idiot? "... it's okay if you're... if you're not ready." He swallows again, but this time it won't go down- stifled by the embarrassingly big lump that's rising in his throat. "If you don't think that... I'm the right guy for-"
"What?" Rapunzel resurfaces in a sticky, snotty, wet mess of whispery veils and sprinkled freckles. "You don't want to-"
"No!" Eugene's just plain horrified now. "No, Rapunzel, I want to- to- you're the right person for me, the only person for me-" ... and suddenly words are not enough, will never be enough, so he stops and takes a deep breath. "I love you."
Rapunzel emits a strange sound- a choked, watery, sobby sort of noise- and buries her face in the front of Eugene's jacket. He lets her rub her sticky face on the clean cloth- no, he welcomes it- and he runs his hand over her back, which is covered with naught but a thin layer of delicate cloth, He pulls her as close as possible considering the fact that there's a coffee table between them.
"I'm sorry," she mumbles. "I'm sorry, Eugene, I didn't mean to-"
And then he's confused again.
"Rapunzel." He pulls back and sets his hands firmly on her bare shoulders. "If you don't tell me what's wrong right now, I swear I'll-"
"Soup."
He stops suddenly. "What?"
"Soup," she murmurs miserably, not meeting his eyes. Rapunzel gets to her feet and smooths out her skirts- and finally, Eugene sees the real problem.
Rapunzel looks like something else in her dress- something out of this world, ethereal. It clings to her as if it's wet- silk running smoothly over her small curves: a tight corset pulls her in at the waist and out at the chest; the dress stops enticingly above her breasts, leaving her shoulders bare. It flares at her waist as the dress explodes into layers of lace that fall from her hips in a white waterfall. This is enough for Eugene- it's enough for a lifetime, because this is more than he's ever wanted- but his eyes keep drifting. And there is where the problem lies- there's a large yellow splatter on her skirts.
He forces down all the feelings bubbling in his stomach- anxiety, joy, amazement, and all of the other ridiculously romantic things he'd rather squash- and runs his hand over the soup stain. It's still wet.
Eugene gets to his feet and looks at Rapunzel, trying to resist the urge to press her against a wall and kiss her and touch her and tell her that it doesn't matter, that it will never matter-
But it matters to her. And now, it's supposed to matter to him.
"Butternut squash," she says mournfully, looking at the half-drained bowl lying on the vanity a few feet away. "I- I was drinking it, and it spilled..."
Pascal chirps sympathetically.
"It's yellow," Eugene says, frantically trying to think of something to say.. "Yellow... is a great color. I mean, think about it. It's the color of... uh- your hair. Your old hair, Blondie. And... um..." His eyes wander and finally settle on the flag of Corona handing above the mirror on the wall. "... the sun." He nods quickly. "The sun. It's great. It symbolizes all of Corona. It's... really special."
Pause.
"Like you," he adds. It's lame, but Rapunzel's eyes light up a little. She must not know much about pick-up lines. Sad, considering that she's with him- a guy to whom pick-up lines and beer are like holy bread and water. He makes a mental note to try some of his better ones on her later.
"Thanks, Eugene," Rapunzel says ruefully; "... but it's not supposed to be yellow." She sniffs and wipes her eyes off on her bare wrist. "It's supposed to be white."
"Maybe we can wash it really quick," he says, thinking aloud. "I've washed a lot of wine stains out that way-"
"No," Rapunzel says, her eyes falling to the gray windows. "There's not enough time." And when she turns back, she's crying yet again- silver tears down her face, running tracks through the tracks that have already been curved down her makeup. "Eugene, I- I'm sorry."
"It's okay. Shh," he whispers, pulling her closer and letting his fingers tangle through the hair at the base of her skull.
"No." Rapunzel pulls out of his grasp and places her hands on either side of his chest. "I've been waiting for this wedding a long time. A really, really long time. From when I read that fairy tale... from when you said that I was your new dream..."
Eugene feels strangely numb. She had expected him to propose since the tower fiasco? Since he had bled to death in her arms?
"And now it's not going to be like I dreamed it was going to be," she sniffs, attempting to steady her voice, not meeting his eyes. "I... I wanted it to be perfect. I thought dreams are supposed to come true..."
And then it hits him. Or maybe it's hit him a long time ago. All that Eugene knows is that now- now, for once, finally- it feels right.
"Listen to me," he says, raising his voice over the sounds of first rain; "it doesn't matter to me how this goes. I don't care about what your dress looks like. I don't give a shit if your dress has soup on it, or dirt, or... whatever. I don't care. I'll do this anywhere, Rapunzel- and it doesn't matter what you're wearing, or what you look like-" ... he's probably going overboard now, but it's the truth and he can't stop- "I don't care as long as we're together."
Rapunzel smiles feebly at him and then looks down at her dress. The smile vanishes.
"Look," he says. "You're worried you'll look out of place?" And before he knows what's going on, Eugene picks a pair of scissors up off the vanity, lifts it to his forehead, and snips off a lock of his hair. Again. And again.
Holy shit.
Rapunzel's eyes widen and a strangled laugh chokes it way out of her in one short burst. She leans closer to him and runs her finger over where that particular strand Eugene's hair used to fall so casually, so handsomely- and now it's gone.
Holy shit.
Did he really just do that?
He swallows and looks in the mirror, and, sure enough, his hair is gone in odd places- where it used to hang loosely next to his forehead, where it used to curve above his eyes- now there are random short bursts of hair amid the rest of his long locks. Ror the first time ever, he's changed his haircut. He's been meaning to do it, actually. He just... didn't expect it to be like this.
"... then you don't have to be the only one," he finishes weakly, prying himself away from the mirror.
Rapunzel laughs again. And it's like the humoring, half-believing laugh that came out of her mouth when he came back to life in that tower. And it's beautiful, and suddenly cutting his hair off was worth it. Almost. But it's a very close almost.
"Now, about your dress...?"
But Rapunzel's eyes have already drifted to a corner of the room- a corner where her paints lie. Bottles of pink and black and blue and green and... yellow.
Eugene looks at Rapunzel in the same instant Rapunzel looks at Eugene.
And in a few quick moments, Rapunzel's sitting on the ground with her legs sticking out in a V, skirts splayed over the ground, leaning over her dress and painting over the yellow butternut-squash stain with more yellow- a yellow just as rich and thick. Eugene watches, trying not to smile as she swirls a large circle over the soupy blemish and begins to paint curvy swirls around it.
A sun.
Suddenly there's a knock at the door.
Eugene gets to his feet and scrambles to straighten his pants and rid himself of the creases in his jacket as he swings the door open. The King and Queen and the valet and the maids and the guard are all standing there. He grins easily as the valet's eyes widen in horror at his snippy haircut- because Eugene's mostly past caring about that. Mostly. He nods obediently at the King and the Queen.
"Just a minute," he says. "We'll be right out."
They shuffle down the hallway again- even the hysterical valet- and Eugene turns back to Rapunzel, who's standing in the doorway with a blazing yellow sun painted over the hem of her dress. It's almost as bright as she is.
This time, she doesn't pull away when he slings a hand around her so he can feel the thinness of her waist and the curve of her hips and the warm, warm flush of her bare shoulders and arms and neck- and he presses himself against her and they fit, just like puzzle pieces.
"You ready to tie the knot?" he murmurs into her hair.
"Hm?" Rapunzel rakes her fingers through his hair, combing it down. "Knots?"
"Mm." He presses a kiss to her head. "You know. When two people stay together. Forever." Again. "We're like two strands of... hair. Knotted." And again.
"Knots." She tests the word on her tongue. "But knots aren't good- Gothel made me comb my hair over and over again to get rid of them." She pauses and looks up at Eugene in a way that makes his stomach clench with anticipation. "Shouldn't we be untying the knots instead?"
"This isn't the kind of knot I want to untie," he whispers.
And then he takes Rapunzel's hand and they walk through the doorway: the soon-to-be Prince of Corona with a rouge-stained face and messy hair; the radiant Princess of Corona, blazingly beautiful in her wedding gown; and the small blue frog on her shoulder, bright-eyed, and hiccupping cheerfully.