It was meant to be like any other day; all the signs showed the hours ahead of him would be nothing but ordinary. The sky was blue, the grass was green and the air was the same as ever, tasteless but well enough to keep him alive. That's all he thought he'd aspire to be, alive.
He sat on the hill with his feet pressed into the dirt. It was warm, warmer than he liked it and the sun seemed hell bent on blinding him. He smirked and stuck out his tongue, he had no intention of moving.
He watched people go by, some gave him disapproving looks as he was alone in a park on a Saturday afternoon. Surely, they thought, he must be a miscreant. Jack laughed, to some degree, he thought he fit the stereotypes well, those of a bad boy with a proclivity for trouble. It wasn't his clothing that gave him away, but rather his tone, how he always spoke with sarcasm, mischief or both.
"But they can't hear me," He whispered. They only saw him and whispered, and even that made him weary. No one really saw him, not in class or on the street, just looks, questions, words between them but not to him.
"Jack was invisible, not that it bothered him, that's what he'd always say.
"Of course, it did bother him and that was why he was stubborn and sat under the sun with a hoodie on and his eyes upward as if daring the sun to hurt him.
He was on the verge of overheating; that's when he heard it, or rather, her.
Tanned skin, short brown hair topped with a sun hat, and a pink sun dress. She sat next to him without a word but there was a smile on her lips and a sketchbook in her hand. No one ever sat next to him, he thought she was lost, about to ask her so, then swallowed the question down. People saw him as a loner, that didn't mean he was one.
"This is going to sound silly," She said, her voice like a song, "But I thought it would be strange if I left without showing this to you."
When she turned her head he saw her eyes, green. He suddenly questioned whether his favorite color was really blue./span/p
"What?"
She handed him her sketchbook and flipped to the last page. There, he saw his face; she'd drawn him.
"I was in the tree over there," She pointed to the largest willow tree in the park. The leaves dangled to the ground like wilted petals.
Jack looked from the girl to the picture, it was uncanny how well she drew his likeness, from the unruly hair on his head to the crooked shape of his lips.
"You're good." He said, he laughed and traced her drawing with his fingers. Oddly, he wished the drawing was of her instead of him.
"Did you notice?" Her voice was giddy.
"You drawing me? No, but I wish I had." He forced a cough, he didn't know why he said he wished.
She touched her cheek as though she were deep in thought, "I meant did you notice you're smiling in the picture."
Jack looked at the drawing again, the smirk was there, he noticed it now. But, as he looked at it more closely, he realized a smirk was the wrong word for it, it was much more of a smile, almost a laugh...a laugh of sheer joy.
He didn't know what to say.
And then, with what felt like all the love in the world she put a hand on his shoulder, "I think you'd look very handsome with a smile like that."
His cheeks became warm; he took a deep breath and looked up at her, same green eyes, same short brown hair. He wondered, or rather he thought, the sun had touched her as though she walked and breathed sunshine. She spoke to him as a person, a human being. He realized now she must have heard the whispers, she must have seen him frown, and somehow, she must have come to the conclusion of just how lonely he was.
Jack wanted to say something to her, anything, "Well, I like to think I'd be debonair with any expression," She laughed, "But you're right, this look suits me."
And then he smiled, not a smirk or a cheeky grin, a genuine smile just as she'd drawn him.
And then she smiled too.
.
"Is something wrong?" She asked.
He was going to tell her no, that everything was fine, great in fact, and yet, strangely, disastrous, but Jack being Jack said what came to mind, "You smiled."
He cursed in his mind, you smiled?
Never had he felt so flustered!
She smiled again, her smiles were radiant, "I did!" And then, as though she had another thought, "And?" She kept her smile this time.
He struggled to find words that didn't make him seem like a fool. It was impossible to say anything that wasn't already on his mind, on the tip of his tongue and eager to be spoken aloud.
"And I thought…" He bit down on his lip. He couldn't concentrate with her smile, not just any smile but a smile for him, a stranger, a stranger she spent the afternoon drawing in her willow tree. She sat there and drew him, of all people, she saw him.
He looked at the grass, then her dress, and then her. The way she looked at him was not out of suspicion, like most people, or pity. There was a sense of caring in her eyes, naturally to her he was sure. There was also something else, something he wasn't sure if he imagined.
She looked like she was...
Falling in love?
That's when it hit him, it was over, he was done for.
Barely ten minutes into a conversation and he was inexplicably in love with her. Why? The drawing, her company, those eyes, the softness with which she spoke, her touch? Or...maybe it was the absolute certainty of how right it felt to have her at his side.
He laughed for a moment as he took in what he was feeling, surprised he could feel it at all. And then, he thought if he was to walk down this road with all its limitations, risks and impossibilities, he should know her name and he should know hers.
"I'm Jack."
"Rapunzel, it's very nice to meet you."
He knew right then, as astronomical as it may sound to him now, that this was the story of how they met and it would be a story he'd tell again and again and again.
The day he met the woman he'd marry.
And he was absolutely, positively, right.
There's this post about smiles, someone in their tag had mentioned they wanted a Jackunzel fic on it, I got inspired :) Anyway, I usually don't care for stories where they fall in love right away but it I think it suits what I was going for.