It takes Rapunzel approximately thirty seconds to jump into action.
The first ten seconds are spent drowning in her inner frustration, yelling at her past self mostly for being stupid enough to sketch someone in a very public place. There are bad words thrown in and promises of revenge and in all, it's just Rapunzel being very angry at herself.
The next fifteen are spent being angry at Eugene, full of hard glaring and mental scolding and even another attempt at grabbing the book back off him. Of course, she fails miserably because his grip is too tight and that just makes her all the more frustrated. He has no right to look at her private sketches and then just think that he can hold on to them thank you very much.
Then the last five seconds are where she actually puts something into action. It's a stupid plan really with not much thought going into it at all, but at this point, she doesn't have time to think of anything else. Right at this time of crisis, it's all or nothing and if she's going to escape with as little damage as possible she needs to act quickly.
So before Eugene can really register what's happening, eyes still deep in focus on her sketches, her hands are moving - everywhere.
They are quick and frantic and drop several items all over the place as she attempts to swipe up all of her supplies and tuck them under her arms as safe as can be. There isn't really any time to pick favourites or order anything sensibly and so the smallest sketchbook being on the bottom of the pile will just have to do.
And if it also means leaving behind her pale blue book for the sake of time then so be it. Even though it's her favourite, it's a sacrifice she's absolutely willing to make.
She can deal with that fall out later.
So far, the plan seems to be going just as well as she had hoped, most of her items have been rescued in the quickest time possible and she's managed to do it all with the least amount of attention drawn to her.
That is until she bends down to scoop her backpack strap onto her arm and instead of feeling the scratchy fabric, she feels the grip of something warm around her wrist. The touch is light on her arm, but it is just enough to halt all her movements and bring her crashing down into the present.
The present in which Eugene has his hand curled around her wrist and is smiling down at her with the softest expression she has ever seen. His lips are spread wide and his eyes have gone all crinkly in the corners and if she wasn't trying so hard to run away she could stay right in this spot for hours and just stare at him.
And she almost does just that as it takes a few more moments for Eugene to eventually break the silence. Destroy it more like, because when he opens his mouth his voice is nothing but warmth.
"Stay."
It's only a word, just one word, but oh how that is more than enough for her to comply with his wish.
She was expecting him to be a lot more freaked out, considering their history and all, but here he is calm and strong and taking the first step.
Putting the situation in her hands.
It is such a dramatic change from what she knows about Eugene that she wants to push it further if only for sheer curiosity.
To open herself up to possibilities.
There's a noise that echoes from somewhere around them and it alarms her a little, lets her know that they still are very much in public with a table soaked through with coffee and instead of staring at each other in silence they should probably get around to fixing that at some point.
So she gives him a nod, breathes out an okay and makes no attempt to escape again.
Taking a small breath, she rises back up until she is standing straight once again, not meeting Eugene's height by any means, and drops her bag back on to the floor, making sure to deposit all of her supplies to safety on the empty seat next to her. She stares at the mess on the table in front of her and uses her free hand to gesture, quite wildly, at everything they've managed to create in the last few minutes.
"We should probably clean this up."
Eugene nods in agreement and makes a start by going on the lookout for napkins and returning with a more than sufficient pile. He separates them roughly and hands her half, getting straight to work on mopping up as much liquid as he can. It's actually not as much as she thought, most of it is creating dark brown espresso pools underneath the table, but it looks like it's drying so they don't bother with it for now.
Instead, they continue working together, occasionally leaning over the other to move some of the decorative objects that live on the table out of the way, but they mostly stay on their own side.
However, that doesn't stop her from noticing the looks that Eugene gives her now and then and it certainly doesn't stop her from giving him some looks of her own.
This is the first time she's really had a good look at him, in real life anyway, and all the emotions she felt that first time are starting to flood back. The inspiration, the colours, the desire to just paint. She feels every urge to throw down the soggy clump of napkins, steal the sketchbook back and continue where she left off.
But alas she remains where she is, no chance of getting the book back and even when they dispose of the napkins and arrange everything back to the way it was, the book remains prisoner on the other side of the table.
It's her book and she has every right to just take it, but for some reason, she feels the need to ask for it back so she does.
Her hand points to the sketchbook, which managed to stay pristine and free of coffee, and gives Eugene a raise of her eyebrows.
"Can I have that back now?"
She's expecting him to answer, yes hopefully, yet for the second time today he takes her by surprise.
Instead of handing it back over, he points down to the sketchbook, now open on the first sketch she ever did of him a couple of hours after they first ran into each other.
It's simple and rough but the boy in the fort is clear as day.
His eyes follow his finger before he flicks them back up to Rapunzel, a question lying in them.
"Did you draw this in the library?"
It's an obvious question really and out of the few he could have chosen she has to admit she's slightly relieved he went with this one. She doesn't quite think she's up for the whole why are you drawing me thing just yet.
She looks back down at the sketch, taking it all in and trying to imagine just what it is that he's seeing. It must be weird to see yourself on paper like that, but she thinks he really suits it.
Her voice is soft and almost a whisper when she finally answers him.
"No. I did it once I got home, a few hours after you left actually."
She can't see his reaction, still too busy analysing her own sketch, but she can hear him hum as if he's satisfied with that answer or as if he was maybe expecting her to say something else entirely.
There isn't much time to really contemplate the reason before the page in front of her is being turned and a new sketch is being presented before her.
"And this one" he continues, running his finger over the pencil lines and smudging them ever so slightly. "Is this one recent?"
Not at all, she wants to say, I did that one on the same day.
The sketch is in colour this time and it shows Eugene from behind staring out of a window in the distance. She had found it on his Instagram that night after spending what felt like years searching for him online.
"I think so."
She's lying of course, but a late-night stalking spree isn't really something she wants to admit to on the same day her secret sketches have been exposed.
She watches as his fingers come to a stop on the page almost in the same moment she feels a tug on her wrist, his hand finding home there again. It's a soft pull that gets her attention and causes her to finally, finally, look up at him.
"It's nice." He whispers, almost as if he's scared she would reject the compliment. "They are all nice."
It may just be the soft way he says it but she can't help the pride she feels at that. They are nice sketches and she is proud of them, she just wishes he never saw them.
She smiles at him anyway. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
He shrugs a little and his smile is still there, but its brightness has dimed slightly and it's almost the same look he was wearing before when he was attempting to make his grand entrance.
In a matter of seconds, he's gone back to dorky Eugene who destroys book forts and spills coffee.
And yet, she can tell that there is something lying beneath the surface. He swallows a few times and brushes back his hair a few times more, almost as if he's trying to grasp on to the small boost of confidence he still has left.
It takes him a couple more seconds, a couple more breaths, and then he is speaking again.
"I - I don't really know how to do this."
His words take her by surprise a little, she was expecting more questions about the drawings, but she tries to hide her confusion the best she can for his sake.
"Do what?"
He sighs, almost in defeat, before gesturing between the two of them. "This, talking to you." His eyes drop back down to the table, looking over where the mess once was, which ultimately makes his eyebrows furrow and his head shake. "This is the second time I've tried and it's a bigger disaster than last time."
That makes her laugh, it's only small and nothing too loud but she knows he hears it when he looks back up to her with a slightly surprised look in his eyes.
"In your defence, it was kind of my fault you destroyed your book fort." She cocks her head to the side and offers him a small shrug. "Although it is a bit weird to be hiding out in the library."
It takes him a few seconds to register what she says, the teasing way she says it, and then he's smiling wider and letting out a small chuckle of his own. His nose scrunches up as he sends her a teasing smirk.
"Even weirder than drawing the people who hide out in the library?"
She lets out a hum, purses her lips, squints her eyes and tries really hard to show that she's thinking about this. "Okay" she breathes out in defeat "I'm still the weird one here."
Eugene nods in agreement a few times, head bouncing enthusiastically and she's fairly certain he looks as happy as she feels right now. Quite the contrast from how she was feeling seconds ago when she was attempting to run out of this place, run out on him. The ten seconds she spent on yelling at herself before suddenly don't feel like they were long enough.
She almost missed out on this, all of this.
The shy looks he's giving her, the way he is still holding her wrist and the basic fact that they are finally having a conversation.
If only Cassandra could see her now, she can practically feel her pride radiating from all the way back on campus.
The laughs calm a little and it is only a matter of seconds before Eugene is clearing his throat again, eyes glancing back down to the sketches for a brief moment. This time when he looks back at her she feels a warmth blooming through her chest.
"I have a question." He says it boldly and she kind of likes how he's announcing his question instead of just asking it.
She raises her hand in encouragement, but stays silent and waits for him to continue at his own pace.
"Why are you drawing me?"
And there it is.
It doesn't take her by surprise, not really, she was expecting this question at some point but that doesn't mean she is any more prepared to answer it then she was a few minutes ago. They may finally have left the awkward run-in stage of their relationship - if she can she call it that - but it still doesn't change the fact that she doesn't have an answer for him.
The thing is that she never chose to draw him in the first place, it just happened. When she sat down that night she had fully intended to do something along the lines of self-portraiture, but when she started seeing the sharp angles of a male jaw she was in far too deep to stop.
It just felt so good and freeing to be able to draw with this intensity again that she didn't have it in her to pull herself out of that trance. She missed that feeling and if it was him that gave her that then there's nothing she could really do.
Over the last week, she has asked herself many times that why, out of everything, was it Eugene that sparked this inspiration. What was it about him that captured so much that she now has a sketchbook half-filled with his features?
No answer ever came of course.
So when she tries to answer Eugene she gives him the only answer she can, honesty.
"I don't know" her shoulders rise and fall as she lets out a huffed breath. "I just started and then for some reason I couldn't stop."
Hearing it out loud makes her wince inside, it sounds ridiculous and just outright insane. But it's the truth and at least that's better than nothing.
"Does this happen often?"
She shakes her head "Never actually. At least not with a person."
She's expecting him to ask another question, go fishing for more information, but he doesn't. He remains silent, watching her, and gives her all the time she needs to continue, that's if she wants to continue at all.
She does.
"I've been having a bit of an art block lately." She points back over to the drawings, only now realising that at some point Eugene had turned the page to the next drawing, one of her favourites actually. Another one of her finds on his Instagram, Eugene cuddling up to a bright orange cat. "That is the first thing I've drawn in months."
She pauses for a moment, giving him the chance to jump in and shut her up but when all he does is smile at her she takes that as a signal that he's happy with just listening. It feels kind of nice to have someone to let this all out on.
"For my senior project, I have to paint an expression piece. Something that captures a feeling." Her eyes roll slightly, even weeks after hearing about the assignment she still doesn't exactly know what it means. "I haven't been able to think of anything and I guess drawing you was a nice break from it all. It was stressing me out a little."
Or a lot she wants to add, but she doesn't want to dump all of her stress on Eugene, especially when he's being so nice about all of this. And it's then that she notices she hasn't actually asked him how he feels about the sketches and she hasn't really apologised. For any of it.
It's far overdue at this point.
She opens her mouth, apology already on her lips when she feels a small swipe across her wrist. It's gentle, there and gone before she really has time to register it, but she felt it all the same.
If his smile before had caused her chest to bloom this does much more. The warmth doesn't just bloom, it blossoms, spreads all over her from her wrist to the bottom of her toes. It's a rush of serenity that crashes over her in waves.
Everything about it makes her feel calm and safe and peaceful. Almost the exact opposite of how drawing Eugene feels.
It's strange, how the same person can make you feel things that are such polar opposites.
She drags her eyes up to meet his, getting lost in the swirls of brown just like she did on that first day.
But now there's something else shinning in them, glinting almost, as if he just had the most wonderful idea. And then she's seeing it spread across his whole face, lighting up his smile, deepening his eyebrows, coursing through his entire being.
Then he opens his mouth.
"Paint me."
He says it so simply and casually that it's hard not to act like he hasn't just knocked the wind right from her.
Her eyes search his face thoroughly expecting to see the beginnings of a laugh or one of those cute smirks or anything to indicate that he's joking. But he's staring right back at her, nothing but total sincerity on his face.
"I want to be your project."
And how can she say no to that?
