Note: For Vanilla Coated Love. Do check out her Jackunzel story, too, alright?
Audience: If you had the chance to read my stories, I'm going to apologize for my disregard of the en and em dashes - I only type the stories using my phone, and I assure you that copy-pasting the em dash every now and then exhausts the hell out of me. I hope that this matter won't be a reason for you to turn away from my fics.
I also hope I did justice for the crossover pairing here. Fluff ahead. I can't believe I was even able to write a...sweet piece, if that's what you can call it. It's been a while since I last wrote long one-shots (by long, I mean 3K+), so forgive me if this is a tad bit rushed. Also, I haven't watched the RotG film in full because I got bored (inform me if the characters are OOC). I just adore the prospect of Jack and Rapunzel meeting each other in the canon universe.
#2 of the Forty Fandoms: Forty One-shots Challenge.
Apricity
n. The warmth of the sun in winter
Rapunzel isn't that much of a dreamer.
She can't deny that sometimes, she rests her delicate elbows on her only gateway to the outside world. The bricks feel coarse against her moonlight-kissed skin, and she hopes that someday she will be able to sense the warmth of the sun, too. The stars that seem to move in waves illuminate her face - she wants to know if they are stars, needs to know if they are stars - and she prefers not to bask in fantasies of having the answers to her question.
Someday, she resolves, she will step down from this tower and confirm if the stars are real or not.
But no matter how much of a determined sixteen year old girl she is, Rapunzel is eternally confined in a home that she considers as a dungeon, and determination doesn't exactly tear a tower apart by itself.
Jack isn't that much of a realist.
It's not as if he is real himself - to the villagers, he is nothing but a cool breeze, a wisp of winter, a ghost who desires attention, and a dead boy who has been buried under leagues of dry ice. He hardly thinks that being frozen for ages accounts as a proper way of being buried.
He, with his pale ash locks and ancient wooden staff, likes to gaze upon the children and imagine that he is still one of them, running around bonfires, singing melodies of December, huddling close to each other whenever nasty winds sweep through evergreens. Jack closes his eyes and remembers the laughter of his sister, and it makes him feel alive, even just for a little while.
But he can never be alive again, can he?
It must have been fate when the whispers of blizzards whisk him to a region in the outskirts, where vines lay helpless in the biting cold and a tower stands alone in the middle of the wilderness. At first, his instinct as a guardian tells him that the desolated structure is probably a madman's fortress. Perhaps, locked away from civilization, some sort of self-proclaimed antagonist is plotting his evil plans -
Then he sees her - emerald irises sparkling in the company of the descending snowflakes and luminous blond hair veiling half of her face like a curtain. Her chin is on the palm of her hand, and she sighs in resignation, reaching for the wooden windows.
Jack doesn't know what comes over him, but he glides to the aperture and screams, "Wait!"
The girl has already withdrawn herself from the view of the lonely winter, and her only porthole to the Earth is shut close. Breathless, Jack groans against the tip of his staff, because he has, once again, lost an opportunity to speak to a living person.
That isn't what keeps him rooted in the blank space in front of the window, though. Why would a pretty little lady reside high up in a citadel that's too secluded to be noticed by townspeople? She doesn't really appear as an introvert who wishes to spend her time imprisoned in a vicinity touching the sky.
Jack turns to leave, but jumps in surprise when the wooden windows burst open.
"Is anyone there?"
Her voice is as lovely as she is, Jack muses - and for a brief moment, he is caught off guard by the idea that the girl has actually heard him. She heard him shout, and she is wondering where he is.
It's been a while since Jack felt a pang of excitement. He slowly lowers himself and creates a trail of ice as he spirals downwards. Then he clears his throat. "Hey."
The girl's emerald irises search the land below for any sign of existence, and when the blonde looks up in defeat, she shrieks.
Rapunzel isn't sure how, what, why - but she stumbles in astonishment and lets out a high-pitched cry.
"Ahhh!"
A teenage boy is staring innocently at her, sheepishly rubbing the back of his ash-gray head while floating midair. Midair. Rapunzel gasps and points her index finger at the boy hovering in front of her window. Surely she isn't mad, is she?
"You - how - ghost - I -"
"So you can see me," the lad laughs, tossing a staff in his hands. He adjusts his blue hoodie peppered with white sprinkles. "Hello, I'm Jack Frost, commonly referred to as one of the Guardians."
"G-guardians?" Rapunzel asks, partly amazed but mostly terrified. "I didn't know there were guardians. I haven't read about them in any book that I've encountered."
"Bah," Jack Frost waves his hand dismissively. "Books are full of lies, and I wouldn't be speaking to you right now if I were fictional."
Rapunzel suppresses a giggle when she realizes that Jack made perfect sense, and she is glad that finally, she is talking to a genuine human being other than Mother. Jack looks at her expectantly, and Rapunzel nearly slams her head against the brick walls for forgetting the pleasantries. Mother must be disappointed in her for disregarding her lessons in manners.
She smiles and cautiously holds her arm out, because Mother has also told her not to welcome strangers warmly. In this case, however, Rapunzel is willing to make a minor exception. "Pleased to meet you, Jack. I am Rapunzel."
"Nice to meet you too," Jack grins, and the moment he shakes her hand, Rapunzel shivers at the comfortable algor. "Rapunzel."
She doesn't want to accept the fact that her heart skipped a beat when he said her name.
Rapunzel, her name tumbles off his chapped lips like the floating lanterns he has often witnessed at a certain day of the year. Jack marvels at the long, blond hair resting on her back, and he flinches at the physical contact with a girl he barely knows.
Rapunzel is warm. Alive, too.
Jack shakes his head to clear the piling snow. "So what are you doing here in a tower?"
"I live here," Rapunzel responds as a-matter-of-factly. She settles her chin on her palms again. "Well, Jack, how did you even find this tower?"
Twirling in the air, Jack says, "I was just wandering in the area, and then I saw you. Good thing you can see me too, or else I'll be rotting invisibly somewhere."
"Wait," Rapunzel stresses. "So you are a ghost?"
"Of course I am. Cold hand, a guy who's flying? If there's anything I could be, it's a ghost."
Rapunzel takes a sharp breath - she's never had a spiritual chance meeting before, so it is just natural that she would freak out at Jack. The Guardian of Fun blinks at the blond beauty's expression, and he mutters, "Death doesn't mean oblivion. Some people live on even when their bodies have long since decayed, simply because they have a purpose."
Jack smiles. "I'm a winter spirit. And I'm going to protect those children out there, even if a lot of them think that I don't exist."
"I do believe in you," Rapunzel retorts. "But I'm not a kid anymore, and I believe in you because I know that I'm not seeing things."
She amuses him, that is a given; when silence streaks between them in a whirlwind of snow, Rapunzel tugs at the blond hair flowing past her feet - past her feet, Jack's jaw unhinges in stupefaction - and steps aside for him to scrutinize a painting of yellows, blues, and greens. "Jack, do you know about the lights?"
"What lights?" Jack leans on the windowsill, and as his hands touch the bricks, a thin line of frost assaults the tower's walls. "There are all kinds of light. Street lights, candle lights -"
"I am aware of that." It is evident that Rapunzel's voice has suddenly become hoarse, as if she has grown exhausted of explaining to people who can never understand the meaning of her hidden art. "The floating lights that only appear on the twelfth of May...what are they, exactly?"
"Lanterns," Jack spouts. The corners of his mouth curve, because he has thought of a plan - a plan that will not only delight him, but will also please Rapunzel as well, seeing as she is as curious as a black cat stuck in a dark alley. "The nearby kingdom sets lanterns alight on a particular day - I don't know why, but I've heard some rumors about a lost princess' birthday."
"A princess' birthday? It's my birthday, too!" The emerald-eyed girl squeals - her shoulders rise at the extreme intonation and the freckles sprayed all over her nosebridge and cheeks darken. "I've always thought that the lights were for me...and it turns out that it's for somebody else."
"Really," Jack says. Something is putting him off - it isn't just a coincidence that the Royal Family has been looking for its youngest member, and Rapunzel is trapped in a mighty tower...is it?
For a while, the Guardian sets the matter aside and voices his plan, rubbing the back of his neck to hide the budding embarrassment. "I - ah, well, would you want to see them? The floating lanterns, I mean?"
"You'll take me to them? But I can't possibly leave my home."
"We won't be gone for long." Jack places a palm over his heart. "I promise. And when I promise something, I never, ever break that promise." For emphasis, Jack wrinkles his nose and lessens the distance between Rapunzel and him. He stares at her with his wide, blue eyes. "E-ver."
Blushing a fiery scarlet, Rapunzel slowly backs away. "I - It's not like I doubt you, Frosty."
"Just wanted to make sure, Blondie," Jack replies in his usual snarky manner. After enjoying a chuckle or two, he straightens his posture and offers his hand. "Hold onto me, and don't let go, unless you'd want to plummet to the depths of the Earth. Come on, I've got you. Don't look down, calm yourself, take a deep breath -"
"Jack, you can shut up now," Rapunzel playfully mutters while swiftly grabbing an old brown blanket and wrapping it around herself. She steps on the ledge, and when she catches a glimpse of the world below, her breath hitches. "Ohmygod -"
Jack winces. "I told you not to look down - now, what do we do with your hair?"
"I'll manage," Rapunzel barely croaks, reaching for Jack's ghastly arm. "I'm sure that the villagers won't notice that seventy feet of blond hair is flying past them -"
She pauses, the cold sensation tingling on her fingertips and sending warning bells in her head. Once more, Rapunzel reaches out for Jack, but only grasps empty air. Jack doesn't comprehend. "J-Jack, I can't touch you, I can't -"
Jack growls in the back of his throat and curses himself - this is so damn unfair, he just wants to be a mortal boy for a short duration of his never-ending lifetime. Just an hour, at the least. Instead of showing his annoyance, he puts on his trademark smirk. "I guess I really am a ghost, am I not? Well, I'm sorry for that, Blondie, but it seems like I can't take you to the lights today."
Maybe tomorrow, if, by any chance or miracle, I become alive again.
Rapunzel understands, and she removes the blanket from her figure. "Oh, it's okay, Jack. It's getting dim, so I should probably call it a day."
You'll have to leave now, won't you?
"Ah, I get it. I should be heading back, too. It's been a pleasure, Blondie," Jack remarks, gradually moving up towards the dotted sky. "Good night, then -"
"Come see me tomorrow," Rapunzel hurriedly adds, the red splotch on her face noticeable in spite of the blurry decadence of the snow.
"What?"
"See me tomorrow," she clarifies, and her statement almost sounds like a yell. "And then we'll determine if you're still untouchable."
"Untouchable, huh," a knowing sneer makes its way to Jack's lips. "I like the sound of that, yeah, definitely."
"I did not mean it that way." Rapunzel shoves him, but the attempt is rendered futile. Jack beams in return.
Tossing the staff to his left hand, he turns around and casts a goodbye wave. "I'm still untouchable, not my fault!" Slowly, the small frame of the Guardian disappears behind a layer of precipitation, and soon enough, shards of ice rain down. Rapunzel crosses her fingers that Jack Frost won't be harmed by the unforgiving hail, and then she remembers: he is still untouchable. That sneaky idiot.
Rapunzel tucks herself into bed, her gaze fixed on the mural, and hours later she discerns that she can't sleep at all nor close her emerald eyes for more than ten seconds.
Inevitably, she always jolts awake, checking on her window if tomorrow has come yet, and if a certain ghost has found his way back to her.
The hundredth day, and no, Jack Frost doesn't even come close to, doesn't even pass off as a mortal with blood lining his purple veins and warmth flooding his blanched limbs. He sits on the windowsill tracing paths of sharp ice with his fingertips, watching as the white sheet that blankets the ground be reduced to a puddle of tepid water. He loops his wrists with the vines that surround the lucarne of the high-rise fortress, and yet again, he alludes that the green hue of the leaves faintly resemble the shade of Rapunzel's eyes.
"Jack, how many times have I told you not to damage the plants?" Rapunzel quirks an eyebrow at her familiar visitor. Jack, on the other hand, shrugs and makes one of his 'untouchable' demonstrations.
His arm sinks right through the vines. "Relax, Blondie. I'm the most harmless boy you've ever met."
"You're the only boy I've ever met," Rapunzel snorts. Today she busies herself in her elegant embroidery, delicate hands cradling the cornflower cloth and needle angled at a mild strike. "Have you got nothing better to do?"
"Only if there's something better than looking at you all day." Jack uses his infamous flirtation skills with a dazzling wink and earns an elbow. "O-ow, Punzie, that was meant to be a compliment. Geez, no wonder you don't have an admirer or two."
Rapunzel halts her sewing and an incredulous countenance takes over her face. "Punzie? That's the best you can come up with? And excuse me, I told you that you're the only guy I have ever seen in my whole life."
"I admire you," Jack says earnestly, but he growls at his sappy comment. "I - I mean, you're cool and awesome and for heaven's sake, you've got a river's worth of hair -"
"I know," his friend laughs. "It's very useful as a climbing aid -"
"Not for me."
"- for Mother," Rapunzel finishes, stitching her way through the cornflower cloth. "Speaking of which, Mother doesn't know you exist."
Jokingly grimacing, Jack slaps the wall, lighthearted. "It's not like she can see me. Three hundred years, and you're still the only one who cares about a ghost."
"Three hundred years?" Rapunzel chokes. "You're that old? Please don't tell me I'm speaking to someone who was offered to the gods - you know, the one who had his chest ripped and his heart taken out." By the time Rapunzel has done elaborating, she looks feverish. In fact, she looks like she is about to vomit all over her embroidery.
In the meantime, Jack purses his lips and stares at his pale hands. "Maybe I am a sacrifice. I died for my sister."
"I'm sorry." Rapunzel is caught by surprise, and she accidentally pricks her finger.
Like a flash of lightning, Jack regains his happy demeanor and waves the matter off. He cracks his knuckles and stretches his arms, venturing into the blank space above the ground. "No worries. It's not your fault that it happened, and I wouldn't have met you if I hadn't been frozen for centuries." He darts upwards, sneaks his head in the window, and notices the red spot on Rapunzel's pinky.
"Your life for friendship? Don't humor me," Rapunzel frowns. Jack does the same, except he tugs at her wrist and gently places his mouth over the small wound. "Jack! That's unsanitary!"
The boy shrugs and eyes the finger cleansed of blood. "It is not, Punzie. Did you know that saliva speeds the healing rate of wounds?"
"Where did you learn that? And no, I've only heard of it today. Never knew you were into biology."
Jack gapes at Rapunzel. "You think I'm an idiot? I figured just as much."
"Stop misunderstanding me," Rapunzel groans in exasperation. She's irritated, but who ever said that the foolish Guardian isn't lovable at all? "And don't be mad at me. You're just so unpredictable at times."
"That's the thing. We're wired to change. You can't stay angry, or glad, or melancholic forever. We're not 'weather' to be predicted. Circumstances cause us to be what we are, and I'm guessing that that doesn't need a forecast."
"...I take back what I said. Please be an idiot again."
"I am an idiot!"
"Then stop being philosophical!" Rapunzel stomps her foot, causing the needle to poke her finger once more. "Oh, for the love of -"
Jack takes her hand again and licks the cut gently. With his vibrant blue eyes and cadaverous mane, he resembles a fox more than a poltergeist. He winces at the rusty taste. "You're so careless, you know. And for the record, I'm not philosophical. I'm just plain honest."
He unexpectedly cracks his award-winning grin. Rapunzel swallows the warm, funny sensation pooling in the edges of her mouth and threatening her to smile at him, too. The way he effortlessly conducts himself around her, the way he doesn't have to try hard just to please her - it irks the very best of Rapunzel, to the point that it bugs her to know why she feels so tingly in his presence. Sometimes, she gets flashes of images - of him flying, freezing, laughing, simply being him - and she wonders why he invades her sleep. More often than not, it's not just in her dreams that Jack Frost claims his mighty throne, but he also keeps her awake. She hates it. She hates it - absolutely, without restraint.
She's never been much of a dreamer, after all.
"Uh, Blondie?" Jack flicks her forehead. "You hanging in there?'
Rapunzel blushes. All these unnecessary thoughts about a ghost...this isn't healthy. Not at all. So she resumes sewing and keeping quiet, lest she wants to get into another argument that she is doomed to lose.
Twelfth of May arrives on a morning that reeks of sunshine and lavender. Jack knows that it's Rapunzel's birthday, that she'll be looking forward to the lanterns more than his present. To make up for it, he visits the kingdom and purchases one of the 'floating lights' - a solar symbol is painted on the thin fabric, and since Jack doesn't want to risk it, he hesitatingly tosses a dime onto the wooden counter of the small store. He is about to leave, but the palace horses gallop through him and the crowd scrambles.
One of the royal guards adjusts his cap and raises a poster of a man. "This person named Flynn Rider is one of the most wanted in Corona. Has anyone witnessed him?"
Jack takes a good glimpse at the picture, and along with everybody else, he shakes his head. Tired of the nonsense, Jack kicks his feet and tears through the air, towards the tower he has come to be fond of. However, he hangs the lantern on one of the branches of the surrounding willow tree. It's going to be a simple surprise, he mumbles to himself, and when he returns to the aperture, Rapunzel is there, stroking her long, blond hair.
God, she's beautiful.
Before coming near, Jack gulps and steadies his breath. Rapunzel - at first, he is baffled by the origin of the name (was it German?) but in the passage of time, he grows to yearn for it, as if it's the closest thing he has to a family. As if it's the closest he's ever been to love.
And then he furiously denies what his own mind conjures. Even with all of his days dedicated to Blondie, he still doubts her trust, her absence of awkwardness, and most importantly, her acceptance of him. Jack Frost, after all, is a ghost - a boy who has been around for three centuries lingering in different territories, only to go unnoticed by the mortals he wishes to interact with.
They get into one of those question-and-answer segments again - where are you from? What's your last name? Why don't you cut your hair?
"I thought you'd ask," Rapunzel echoes softly, patting her golden mane and bringing out her index finger - this time, it's the one which has been assaulted by her needle. Slowly, she hums an unfamiliar tune, but Jack catches the words 'flower', 'shine', 'clock', and 'mine'.
Jack sees it - the amber luminescence cast off by the hair, and the swift disappearance of the wound. He opens his mouth in shock, and he hears Rapunzel say, "You might say I'm a freak, and you might judge me for it. Sorry for keeping it from you."
"You believed me when I told you that I was a Guardian," Jack presses. "Of course I'll believe you, too."
At this, Rapunzel tackles him into an embrace, but her figure only submerges in his. She doesn't back away. "Thank you, Jack."
Finally, the charcoal sky signals that it is already nighttime, and Jack retrieves the lantern. He asks for a candle and Rapunzel complies - only then does she realize that it is her birthday, and the stars - no, the floating lights adorn the canvas outside her window. Jack lets the lantern float in the air beside him. "Happy seventeenth birthday, Rapunzel. And I'm sorry if I can't save you."
"Save me from what?" Rapunzel's emerald irises gleam under the orange light. "I'm not a damsel in distress, and there's no evil witch around."
"I mean, I can't take you down from this tower and let you see the real stuff out there. I'll just stick around, with a single lantern, because I'm a ghost and I can't save you from being trapped in this tower while everybody celebrates for this annual occasion." Jack rubs his nose and pokes at the beacon in his embarrassment.
To his awe, Rapunzel simultaneously bursts into a fit of giggles and dabs on a tear staining her cheek. "Your being here is enough, it's more than enough." They watch the wind carry the lantern away, to the forest, the sea - they don't have a clue as to where it'll land. Jack's hand creeps to Rapunzel's, and just like that, they sit together on a brick ledge. Neither of them knows that all of this will change very, very soon.
Jack vanishes into thin air. Rapunzel wakes up one day and, on impulse, she calls out his name. No one responds.
She wrinkles her eyebrows - for all she knows, Jack is always there, perched on her window, flying, messing up her hanging plants - but for once, he's not there. Rapunzel checks every location, but still, no answer from Jack. Only a query from Mother Gothel. "Honey, are you talking to someone? Is somebody up there?"
"No, Mother! I'm just - er, singing to the birds here! They seem to be chirping a lot lately."
No more interrogation follows - now, Rapunzel begins a frantic search for Jack. Something isn't right. Jack never leaves - he has promised to stay, no matter what the cost. Or is it just Rapunzel's selfishness? She's not accustomed to the absence of the Guardian of Fun, but she knows that he has a life, too, even if it's not in a literal sense. But Jack belongs here, she argues in the back of her mind. After all, Rapunzel is still the only one who can see him.
"Jack, where have you gone to?"
"What do you mean I must not wander off?"
Jack fumes, pounding his staff on the floor and creating a miniature ice rink in Nicholas' workshop. It's just like the first time, and all of the creatures - creatures, not people - are sitting or standing conveniently far from him. Nicholas crosses his humongous arms. "We've been informed of a new threat, far more dangerous than Pitch. We can't risk being divided. You know what happened last time."
You mean it's my fault that the eggs shattered? Jack wants to counter, but he clamps his mouth shut and disregards the fury boiling inside of him. Bunnymund snickers at the foolish boy's anger. "Being the Guardian of Fun doesn't mean you can always have fun, Frost."
"Shut up, Bunnymund. Nicholas, I can handle myself. I've learned my lesson, and it's high time for you to trust me."
All of the Guardians turn to Sandy, who gestures towards the projection above his head. A picture of a brick tower, a swirl of blonde hair -
"A girl?" Bunnymund and Tooth exclaim, and the former muffles his boisterous guffaws. Rather, tries to muffle. "My, my, Jack Frost. You're obviously becoming a man, how unlikely of you."
"Shut. Up," Jack snarls through clenched teeth. Before a battle to the death could arise, Nicholas' voice booms in the hall.
"I have made my decision," he says softly in his own standards but loud enough for his comrades to hear. "Jack, you are given permission to return to this tower during winter - and only during winter. You must not leave when you are in your vulnerable state."
"But -"
"No but's, Jack," Nicholas tells him. "We shall make precautions if we are to avoid nasty consequences. If you want to protect the little lady, stay here."
"She doesn't know about it," Jack grumbles and walks away to a comfortable nook. It isn't just the same without the warmth of her hand, her smile - and yet he couldn't bring himself to do anything about this situation.
Winter comes again. Jack makes his way, quickly, to the stronghold where his friend (lover, he desires to proclaim) is waiting for him. His vision is hazy, his breaths emerge in clouds of smoke, but he must get to Rapunzel's window. He has been dying to do so for months - years, if he considers the amount of anguish he has stacked up on during his quarantine in the North.
He smiles when he reaches the tower, but his heart sinks and breaks when he discovers that the wooden window is closed.
A year, and it is a mere sunrise before Rapunzel's special day. She can't believe that her first friendship (romance, she desires to proclaim) is short-lived. She has earnestly stared and stared and stared at the empty space in front of her window until her emerald eyes grew sore and she would resort to crying under her silken sheets. Jack, she has mouthed for a million times. Still, no one has said Rapunzel back.
A rustle, an arrow, and a pan - somebody ends up in Rapunzel's closet, but it isn't Jack (of course, Jack could fly, and he doesn't need to climb. He doesn't need to be whacked by kitchenware, either). The man is very different - he has a larger build, he has much darker hair, and his eyes are a light brown. He is handsome, but not the kind of handsome that Jack is.
She has him tied to a chair. She likes to believe that she's grown mature in Jack's absence, but the man's nonchalant and flirtatious aura only painfully reminds her of him. Flynn Rider, he introduces himself. It's unusual, but Rapunzel figures out that nothing in her life ever comes off as normal. She's hidden the tiara in a safe place, and she makes a bargain for the floating lights, asks the man if they are stars, even. Rapunzel knows they aren't, but she's not sure if Jack just lied back then.
Flynn lectures her about freedom and teenage rebellion, and wills her to step down from her tower. She's going to give him his satchel if he takes her to Corona. He looks at her, disbelieving, until she says, "I promise. And when I promise something, I never, ever break that promise."
Rapunzel also swears that she will never do what Jack did in spite of the things he said. So down the tower she goes, feeling the pointy grass under her tiny feet for the first time, running around in circles, drowning, witnessing the lights, being in love, being betrayed, conquering her fears, and becoming the princess she always has been, even though she didn't know it herself.
I'm not a damsel in distress.
Still, Jack isn't there.
Jack Frost abhors the fact that his last name is Frost, and that he can only escape from his solitary cocoon when the snow begins to flood from the heavens. He weaves his way through the falling white speckles, eventually locating the tower, the prison - whatever he wants to call it. He's grown weary, but relief finds its way in his insides. The window is open.
Only a river of brown hair is present.
Is she dead? Jack's pulse quickens erratically. She would never cut her hair. She would never go down from this tower -
What if she did? What if someone took her away? What if she fell in love with someone else? The possibilities are endless, and angrily, Jack casts ice upon the whole tower, freezing it in whole, locking the memory of Rapunzel away forever.
Is that a German name?
Rapunzel isn't delusional, but why does she feel cold? Why does she see a boy with ashen hair and blue eyes in the festival of her birthday?
Most importantly, why does that boy fade away, bit by bit?
Jack hovers over a sea of people. It's her birthday, his mind says. The words taste bitter on his lips, and then they taste like rust, like blood in the next second. It's whose birthday?
He passes by a woman with short brown hair and a crown on her dainty little head. She is just like everyone else - human, mortal, alive, visible, and tangible.
I'm still untouchable.
And then he sees her eyes, her emerald eyes.
It's unmistakably her.
"Rapunzel," he breathes on her ear. Rapunzel's emerald eyes widen at the murmur of her name in his voice. "I'm still untouchable, huh?"
Princess Rapunzel glances warily at her sides, and makes sure that Flynn Rider - rather, Eugene is out of hearing range. "J-Jack?"
"Yes?"
"You're not just untouchable," she whispers. She's changed like the weather and he doesn't know how to predict her anymore, he muses.
Rapunzel looks up innocently, at the space which Jack is far from.
"I can't see you, Jack."
end