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She was still asleep when he got home from grocery shopping. The day outside was warm and dry, the wet reminders from the day before gone as quickly as they'd come.
Eugene opened the door quietly, smiling to himself when he caught sight of her, lying on her other side now, her legs tucked up gently, her toes pointed in her sleep.
He opened the couple of bags of groceries, sorting them on the bench before packing the food items away in the fridge and pantry. He figured he might as well keep her here for a home-cooked meal, though he didn't particularly like cooking. He knew Blondie did, and she'd probably take over the second she could.
He paused when he got to the last couple of items in the large bag.
A pink towel, and a toothbrush to match. He was well and truly done for.
He must have been too loud closing the fridge door, because she stirred, eventually opening her eyes just enough to watch him in the kitchen.
"Morning," he called to her.
She groaned and pushed herself up on her hands, blushing the brightest pink he'd ever seen her. "Sorry," she yawned widely. "I just got…so tired."
"I take it as a compliment." He said, leaning against the bench and crossing his arms over his chest. "I didn't cross a line? That was okay?"
She laughed and covered her face, perhaps trying to hide her blush. "It was nice."
He grinned, turning away from her for no particular reason to look down at the counter. "Are you hungry?"
"Not really," her voice was closer than he expected, though he hadn't heard her climb out of bed. He turned to see her standing awkwardly at the entrance of the kitchen. "Thank you,"
"For what?"
"For…that," she half-turned toward his bed, inclining her head to the mattress. "I didn't know it was like that."
"Yeah," he agreed easily. "It's good. There's a lot more to it than that, obviously, but we'll work our way up to it. Best to start small."
She nodded her head in agreement, casting her eyes to her bare feet. "Um…can I try it? On you?"
He swallowed the lump in his throat and attempted his most gentle smile. "If you want, Blondie. But you don't have to worry about me. I've had my fair share of that. I want to ease you into it, until you're feeling comfortable."
"I feel comfortable," she lied. "I mean, I feel comfortable with you. I just…I don't really understand it all yet, but I wouldn't want to be doing it with anyone else. And I want to return the favour."
"Okay," he agreed. He felt his heartbeat race at her words and a small voice in his head told him to take her up on her offer. But there was something about the anticipation buzzing in the air between the two of them that was so delicious, he didn't want it to be over so quickly. "But we don't need to do it right now, okay? We can wait. Have some lunch. We can go out and do something this afternoon if you want to."
"I should probably go home. I used my finger to brush my teeth this morning…"
"Oh, yeah," he grabbed the shopping bag on the counter and handed it to her. "I know yellow's your favourite colour, but they only had pink."
She peered into the bag, her face showing more emotion than need be at the small action he'd made. "Eugene," she sighed. "You didn't have to do this."
"Ah, don't worry about it," he waved her off. "Now we don't have to use the same towel. And you can re-brush your teeth with your new toothbrush, if you really feel like you need to."
"And I can leave them here?"
That very simple sentence would have scared him to death a couple of months ago, but now he took a deep breath and managed a smile. "Yeah, that's what they're for."
"That's really nice. Thank you,"
They decided to watch a sitcom with way too many seasons. It wasn't something they had to pay attention to, but Blondie seemed to enjoy the writer's sense of humour, and she laughed at almost every joke.
Her clothes were now drying on the small clotheshorse on his balcony, the dry Corona air doing its work well. She'd decided she wouldn't be changing back into them, however. She just wanted to stay inside and have a quiet day. She said her brain had been working overtime recently and she just wanted to enjoy his company.
She had complained about putting the same pair of Eugene's underwear back on, saying they were wet and uncomfortable, and he'd tried not to laugh at her innocent way of stating the obvious. He'd offered her another pair, throwing the first in his tiny laundry.
He was surprised at how comforting it was having her here. He honestly didn't want her to go home, but he knew she would have to at some point. And he definitely wasn't ready to ask her to move in or anything. It was going to take some time to think of himself as being in a relationship.
Blondie took full control of cooking dinner, as he knew she would. She let him help chop vegetables, and turn on the oven, but that was about all. He sat at the counter and watched her move around the kitchen like it was her own, doing things without questioning her recipe. He offered to help multiple times, but she told him to relax. Though that was difficult when she reached into the higher shelves of the cupboard, or bent at the hips to dig through his saucepan drawer, giving him the best view she could have managed.
When she was finished, she sat at the counter beside him, grinning up at him like she knew she'd done a good job. "I hope you like it!"
"It looks amazing Blondie, thank you."
And it was delicious, of course. He wondered if she'd done anything but cook, locked up in that little house for eighteen years. Then he realised he was allowed to ask those kind of questions now, so he did.
Rapunzel put a fork full of food into her mouth, thinking about his question. Her eyes were a little guarded, but not defensive, and he knew that was a good thing. Every time she spoke about people knowing or treating her differently she would act as though they'd personally offended her in the worst way, and that wasn't what he was trying to do.
"I used to do a lot of sewing," she told him slowly. "I really like sewing. I've been thinking of buying a sewing machine with the money I have saved up, but I don't know. That used to take a lot of time out of my day, though. Sometimes my mother would go away for days at a time, and I would have to be quiet and pretend I wasn't home. She said ruffians were looking for me, and they would take me if they knew I was home alone. So on those days I did a lot of reading. I had a good book on plants, and another one on cooking, so I liked to cook. I always asked her if I could have books with stories in them, like she ones she had in her bedroom, but she said they were dangerous to the mind, and I was too innocent for them. Cass said that's a load of crap."
"Did you have any pets?"
"No," she laughed sadly. "No, it was just me. I found a lizard who had crept into our kitchen and managed to keep him for a few days, but she found him sunbaking on my windowsill and got really angry at me. She said animals bring disease into houses, and I was lucky I hadn't caught anything.
"I asked her for a dog, or even a bird, just about every birthday but she said I wouldn't be able to handle it."
Eugene was starting to feel his hands shake out of anger toward the woman he would never be able to confront, but he kept her talking anyway. "What about your birthdays? What would you do for them?"
"She'd usually buy me paint, or fabric, or beads. That would keep me busy for a long time. My room was just paintings, all over, all colours. If there was only a square inch left without something painted on it, I would get to it. I covered them! And when they were finished, I'd change them. The walls were all lumpy from the years of paint built up, but I loved them. I loved the colours. Houses outside don't have that.
"I sat at my window and watched the stars exploding every single year. I found out when I left that they're fireworks, and they do it for the Corona festival, but I thought it was for me and my birthday. My mother told me it meant the gods were angry with me for the year past, and if I was good for the next year it wouldn't happen again, but I knew nothing so beautiful could be caused by a bad thing. I asked her if she would take me for my eighteenth birthday, and she got so angry I hid for a couple of days. And then she died."
"How did she die?" Eugene asked quietly. Blondie was still looking at her food, stabbing her fork into it more aggressively than need be. She didn't seem emotionally fragile at all, and he told himself if she did at any point he would stop with his questions.
"She died because of me," she murmured. "She was screaming for a long time, and calling out for me, and I was hiding. I didn't go to her. I didn't know if she was really suffering, or if she just wanted me to come to her so she could get angry with me again. I loved her so much, but I was scared of her most of the time. She used to call me ugly, or chubby, and told me that I'd never be able to take care of myself, and I believed her completely. I knew I needed her or I wouldn't be able to survive. But I also didn't like the way she treated me like I was stupid, because I'm not. And sometimes she would get really violent over nothing, and I didn't know how to make her stop.
"When I woke up the day after my birthday and she was quiet I thought she'd just calmed down. She didn't sleep much. I avoided her bedroom. But then it was time for dinner, and she still hadn't come out, and I knocked on her door and didn't get a reply. I usually wasn't allowed in her room, so I didn't try to go in. The next morning when she still wasn't answering me, I wondered if she'd gone somewhere. I opened the door to see, and I smelled –" she stopped suddenly, swallowing thickly. "The smell was so bad, Eugene. She'd been in there for a long time, and I didn't know what to do, so I wrote the mail man a letter and pushed it under the door for him to find."
"Blondie," he sighed heavily, pushing around a couple of vegetables with his fork. "She did not die because of you."
She didn't look convinced as she stared back at him, giant tears welling in her eyes. He continued, as gently as he could.
"I know you loved her. I can tell. As much as she scared you, and even with all of the terrible things she did to you, you thought of her as a mother and now she's gone, and that must be terrifying. But you didn't cause her death." Rapunzel opened her mouth to disagree, and Eugene hurried to stop her. "I'm not saying maybe it could have been prevented if you'd gone to her, but what would you have done? You didn't know how to drive her to a hospital, or find someone to help. And if she was still alive and well today, where would you be? Still in your little house, waiting to get out. Her life ended, and yours began. And that's it. It's your turn to do what you want."
Her tears fell out of her eyes, but she looked at him with appreciation for his words. "I'm so, so happy Eugene. And that makes me feel worse than anything, because I did love her! But I can't imagine going back there again. I never want to feel like I'm stuck in a place ever again."
"You won't be," he took her hand and squeezed it comfortingly. "Don't you ever do anything or go anywhere you don't feel comfortable with. You're allowed to tell people how you feel."
"Thank you," she took her hand back and put the biggest spoonful of potato and meat into her mouth, chewing on it slowly, her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk in a cartoon.
They were quiet after dinner. Eugene insisted on washing up, and Rapunzel stood at his side, wiping plates and cooking utensils, glancing at him often and watching his hands in the soapy water. When Eugene put on a movie Rapunzel curled up beside him, bringing one of his Flynnigan Rider books with her and opening it to the first page. She read silently while he watched television, her knees folded into him and his arm resting casually behind her.
She was about one hundred pages in when the movie ended and Eugene yawned widely, turning the television off and looking down at her. She was in the middle of a sword fight he could have recited word for word. She didn't seem to notice the silence until he shifted, and she looked up, her eyes wide.
"What time is it?"
"Sleep time," he yawned again. "Did you want to stay up and read for a while longer?"
"No," she smiled and closed the book, not marking the page in any way. "No, I'm tired."
"Why do days spent doing nothing always take it out of you?" Eugene sighed, pushing himself off the couch and stretching. "I hope you'd planned on staying here tonight. I don't know if I'd make it back from walking you home."
"I was hoping I could," she looked shy as she stood. "I need to test out my new toothbrush and all."
"Ah, yes," he agreed. "It is difficult to find a good one."
She laughed too loudly at his joke, bounding from her spot to grab the towel and toothbrush that still sat on the kitchen counter.
They stole looks at each other in the mirror while they brushed their teeth, grinning when they were caught out by one another. Rapunzel washed her face quickly, her short dark hair sticking to her skin until she rubbed it dry with her new towel. She looked to be hovering awkwardly around saying something, but he didn't push her to speak. Eventually she seemed to find the courage, and blurted it out before she could stop herself.
"Cass said the first time you see someone naked is in the shower."
"What?" he tried not to laugh, glancing toward the shower in confusion. How the hell would Cass even know? "How did that come up in conversation?"
"I asked if she'd ever seen anyone naked, and she said she had. And that it usually happens the first time in the shower."
"I didn't know there were rules about that." He mused. Apparently Cass wasn't as much a stuck-up prude as he originally thought. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone naked in the shower."
"But you've seen girls naked before."
"Uh, yeah…"
"Lots of girls," she didn't seem to be confronting him in any way, just stating a fact as if it were about the weather.
"I guess so, yeah,"
"In your bed?"
"Or theirs."
"Hmm," she pursed her lips, looking toward the shower thoughtfully. "Do you want to see me naked? Because I know that everyone looks different, and you've probably been with girls that are as beautiful as you are, and I don't want you to be disappointed with me. My mother said my boobs were too small and I was chubby, and I—"
"Blondie, I would absolutely love to see you naked." He said honestly. "Trust me. And if you want that to happen in the shower, we can do that. But you don't have to plan these things. We can just take them as they come."
"Yeah," she gave him a relieved smile. "I want to see you naked, too."
"Awesome," he was screaming at himself to start running the water, but his nerves had come back and he didn't want to push her into something when he'd just given her a speech about doing things for herself. "Well we'll have to work on doing that sometime."
She followed him out of the bathroom like a puppy, jumping into bed and tucking herself under the sheets. "I'm not going to tell Cass you got in my pants today."
"Probably for the best," he agreed. "I don't think she likes me very much."
"She doesn't like Flynn very much." Rapunzel told him. "But now I can tell her all about my friend Eugene, and she won't have any reservations."
"You're too tricky for your own good,"
She giggled, falling onto the pillow behind her and raising her hand to his face. "Your nose is pretty."
He woke groggy in the morning. Blondie was still beside him, but sitting up, The Tales of Flynnigan Rider tucked in her lap. She was almost finished, and he wondered how long she'd been up.
"Good morning," she chirped, not looking up from her book.
"Morning," he yawned. "What time is it?"
"Seven-thirty," she said immediately. "I had to leave soon. I'm working the lunch shift today." She sighed and closed the book, suddenly looking miserable. "I hate my job."
"Lunch shift isn't bad, though. You'll get in and out quickly."
"Yeah, it's only four hours," she agreed. "I can walk back by myself. You still look tired."
He grimaced, wondering if he looked as bad as he felt. "I haven't slept well the last couple of weeks, to be honest."
"Because of me."
"It wasn't your fault." He sighed.
She jumped out of his bed before he could say anything else and took off toward the bathroom, disappearing from sight. He could hear her brushing her teeth. She came out just long enough to grab her dry clothes from his balcony.
Eugene sighed again, rubbing his face roughly. He didn't want her to go. He was going to have to check in on Frank today, and with the bookstore still closed he was going to have to try to find something to keep him entertained.
She appeared again, dressed in her baggy clothes with her hair still messy from bed. She grinned down at him still resting on his pillow, and shook her head when he made to get up. "I told you, you're not walking me home. I'll feel bad if you go all the way there and come all the way back."
"What about the ruffians?"
She snorted. "I'm tough," there was an awkward air about them while they considered saying goodbye. She bent quickly and kissed him once, softly, on the lips. "See you, Eugene."
"Rapunzel," she was already on her way to the door, but she stopped and turned in her place, looking at him curiously. "Can I take you out for dinner tonight?"
"Dinner?" she repeated, her eyes wide. "A date?"
"Yeah, I guess so."
Her answering smile was so wide she could have blinded him. "Yeah. That would be really nice."
"I'll pick you up from your place at seven?"
"Six-thirty," she told him. "I'll wear something nice."
She crossed the rest of the room and closed the door behind her, throwing him one more excited look over her shoulder before she was hidden from view.