The lizard is creepy. Seriously.
Jack watches it warily as he swiftly latches onto the windowsill, limbs deftly hoisting him so his legs dangle inside the tower but he's far enough out of the room that he can make a quick getaway should – well, who is he kidding? The only reason that he would need to do that is if the tiny, golden-haired girl's mother returns, and even then, she would have to actually be able to see him for Jack to be worried.
The lizard blinks its large, freakish eyes at him, which bothers Jack a lot more than it should because it's not like the reptile can actually see him and it's probably staring at a spot on the wall behind him, but Jack can't help but screw up his face in a horrible expression and stick out his tongue.
When the lizard quite clearly stiffens, so does Jack. His mouth relaxes and he's vaguely aware of the fact that his tongue is hanging out of his mouth much like a dog's and only when the lizard turns his back on Jack does he slip his tongue back into his mouth. But he still doesn't tear his eyes away from the creepy little animal, because then it's scampering down the wall and towards the little girl.
She's sitting in the middle of the room, back facing Jack, but Jack is tall enough to see that she's bent over something. The jars of paint gives Jack an idea as to what exactly it is. After all, she loves to paint. She's a creative little thing. Jack knows this because even though he's definitely not a stalker or a pedophile or even a creep of that sort he sometimes he drops in on her, but that's only because her mom constantly leaves her alone and – well, Jack feels kinda bad for her, too.
A fond smile quirks at Jack's mouth, and he gently places his staff against his knees, trying to crane his neck in order to see what the girl is drawing. He can't exactly see it, but he likes to pretend that it's something like the small pictures donning her walls already. Maybe she's drawing the floating lights. She likes those. It's all she ever talks about.
His gaze slides to the lizard again. It's trying to get her attention, and she's brushing him off with gentle annoyance and "Not now, Pascal." Apparently, "Pascal" doesn't like being ignored, because then it's climbing onto the girl's knee and glaring at her in a startlingly human-like manner and is it pointing at him?
Yup. It's pointing at him. Jeez, this reached a whole new level of freaky. Jack sighs, standing up and tapping his staff against his knees. He's turning around to leave because the lizard is honestly making his skin crawl but then he hears a squeal and that voice and the floorboards creaking as the little girl gets to her feet.
Jack looks over his shoulder. Maybe she stepped on Pascal.
Nope. She's staring at him now, jaw dropped, olive-green eyes shining in excitement.
But Jack's focused on her hair and all he can think about is how heavy that must be on her head. He never really noticed how long it was. Then again, he's never really seen her when she isn't painting something in the middle of her room.
"It's you!" She seems entirely too happy, and Jack nearly falls out of the window.
"I – what?" Great, Jack. Really intelligent.
"You! You're the boy that flies!" She bends down, her hair curtaining her from his view momentarily, before she straightens up with her drawings in her hand, hair literally dragging on the ground behind her. Jack doesn't know what to do as she rushes towards him, but thankfully, he doesn't have to do much thinking, because she's grabbing his hand and attempting to pull him inside her tower. He slowly drops from the ledge, feet landing on the floor beneath him.
"You can see me?"
She blinks her large eyes once, twice, three times. "Is that bad?"
She looks so genuinely terrified that she broke some unspoken rule that she's never heard of that Jack nearly laughs. Instead, he crouches down in front of her, shaking his head.
"Don't worry about it, kiddo." And that's all he says about the matter for now, because if he shows what he really feels and does flips all over the room, he would probably crash into the walls or break something. He's kind of an expert on destroying stuff.
Her chest heaves as she breathes out a sigh of relief, her pursed lips blowing a strand of her hair out of her eyes. Then, her eyes narrow, even though they're still larger than the average human's when she does so. "You are him, right?"
Jack can't nod quickly enough, or enthusiastically enough. "Yeah. That's me."
"I knew it," she breathes out, and with that, she shoves her drawing into his hand, smiling proudly as she sticks her finger to the focal point of the first. In the drawing, it's clearly nighttime, but there's a large, white circle in the center of it, and then, there's the silhouette of someone – no, not just someone, him, Jack Frost – flying in the night sky. There are little yellow spots scattered along the paper and Jack assumes they're the floating lights that she has such a fascination with.
"I saw you," she murmured shyly, rocking back and forth on her heels as Jack stares at the drawing. "Last night. It was my birthday, you know. The lights always come out on my birthday. And then I saw you flying with them this year." As if Jack couldn't tell, she points a chubby finger again at the miniscule Jack Frost. "That's you."
He doesn't know how she could tell it was him from such a distance, but he doesn't question it. He adjusts himself so that he's sitting now, back against the wall, and he can't seem to look away from the drawing. That was exactly what he had been doing the night before. He had been flying amongst the lights. After all, he had the best seat in the house – in the air, right along with them.
"This is incredible," Jack says, finally looking up at the girl. She beams, her tiny little teeth showing, sparkling. Tooth would be happy to know that this girl is keeping her smile clean.
"What are they like?" She asks. Jack looks down at her, realizing that she's sat beside him, mirroring his Indian-style crossed legs.
"The lights?"
At this, her eyes brighten a little. "They're not stars?"
Jack laughs. "Stars don't fly, kiddo."
This newfound information processes in her mind, and she seems confused for a moment. But then her excitement is back as she scoots to sit in front of him. "Tell me about them."
Honestly, Jack didn't know much about them. He just knows that they happen once a year, apparently on this kid's birthday. He doesn't know why. So he gives her the best description that he can. "It starts with one, right? And then they all come afterwards, all at once. At first, you kind of think you're going to get swallowed by this giant wave of golden light." He laughs because it reminds him of Sandy. "Then you sort of just relax and just let them bump into you and wash over you and it's one of the most beautiful things you've ever seen."
Her hands are supporting her head as she gazes at him with rapt attention. "Wow."
He grins. "Yeah."
Then she asks a different question. "Why is your hair white?"
It takes him aback. "I'd like to think it's more of a blondish color –"
She cocks one eyebrow at him and he's immediately jealous because he's been trying to master that for years. "My hair's blonde. Yours is white." She edges closer to him. "You're not old enough for white hair."
He smirks. "Kiddo, I'm plenty old enough for white hair."
She shakes her head. "You're younger than my mom, and she's still got black hair."
He's seen her mom before but he's not about to say that. "Oh."
"How old are you?"
He doesn't say how old he really is. "Eighteen."
"How come your skin is so cold?"
"Because I'm Jack Frost."
"Do you get cold? Like shivery and teeth chattering kind of cold?" She rubs her arms and clicks her teeth together in a pantomime of this.
"Nah," Jack laughs, twirling his staff over his head. "It's always warm for me."
"How come you can fly?"
Pause. "I don't know."
"Can you make it snow?"
Jack snaps. Little flakes fall from the ceiling even though it's the middle of spring and nearing summer. She grins as Pascal dodges them frantically before finally taking refuge underneath her hair. "Cool."
He waves his hand, clearing up the snow, which Pascal looks relieved at. "You're welcome."
She looks at him, smiling softly. "I'm Rapunzel."
He blinks. "What?"
"Ra-pun-zel." She enunciates each syllable as if it'll make Jack understand her better. And it does. Kind of.
But still, he stares at her. "Seriously?"
Rapunzel doesn't know how to respond to that. But she doesn't really have to, because some woman is outside shrieking for Rapunzel to let down her hair (even though Jack knows that her hair is nowhere near long enough to reach the ground). Jack is up before Rapunzel, and he grabs his staff as he hears her mom laugh to herself as if she just told some hilarious joke. He's back on the windowsill, but Rapunzel tugs on the cuff of his pants.
"You'll come back, won't you?"
He just gives her a smile and jumps. He hears her gasp and he rotates in the air, just long enough for her to see that he's okay, and then the tower door bangs open and Rapunzel's mother is reprimanding her for the mess of pain that she's left on the floor.
When Rapunzel glances back towards the window, he's gone.
Authoress's Note: Wow. It's been a while, huh? I'm not too sure how long this will be, to be honest, so I might keep it as a one-shot or write more to it. Reviews would be mucho appreciated either way.