They say that life gets better and time will ease the pain.
They're fools who cannot see the truth; it can never be the same.
No daytime and no nightime; just hour on hour on hour.
And time has no more meaning now life's not sweet it's sour.
There's a time in every man's life when he is pushed to the edge. Pushed to his physical limits. His mental capacity. A time when he forgets everything he's ever done and been and turns into who he really is. A time when things are taken from him. A time when he cries for the first time in front of the woman he loves. Loved. Even if she can't see those tears.
Flynn Rider has never cried. Not as a child at the orphanage years ago. Nor as he was punched, kicked, and beaten at countless bar fights he had gotten himself into on his journeys across the land; thieving anything thought to have value. He had the battle scars to prove it, as he had showed her one night. Her fingers lightly tracing his skin, leaving a trail of heat wherever she was. Always wondering, "how did you not cry?"
That was Flynn Rider. A man of the world. A thief. A man who was never steady with anyone. Just a life of thieving, drunken fights, and one night stands.
Eugene Fitzherbert, on the other hand, was an entirely different person.
His eyes, she had once told him, looked different when he was Eugene. More deep; a beautiful brown. "Not that your eyes weren't beautiful before," she'd laugh at him.
Eugene Fitzherbert wasn't afraid to admit his feelings for a woman. Or, her, on that note. There was no one he had felt more at home with than her. He wasn't afraid to admit the way his stomach filled with foreign butterflies whenever she walked in the room. He wasn't ashamed to stare into her eyes for countless hours of the night as they lay silently, hands intertwined. And he wasn't ashamed, no, not at all, that tears spilled silently from his eyes as he held her after he had asked her to marry him. The single greatest moment of his life.
No, he was not ashamed of the woman he loved.
Eugene awoke with a start one morning; a quick but urgent knock upon his door. He sat up and groaned, streching his arms to the ceiling. The knock happened again.
"One second," he mumbled, hoping whoever it was at the door heard him. "I was sleeping."
"Please, Mr. Fitzherbert," the voice of one of Rapunzel's servents said faintly from the other side of the door. "It's urgent."
His stomach dropped, fear filling his mind. Why would Rapunzel's servents need him? They always have their hands full with the bundle of innocence and energy she was.
He ran to his wardrobe and threw on a white button-up shirt to go with his kaki pants he had slept in. Ignoring the sting of the cold floor against his bare feet, he threw open the door. She stood, her hand in the knocking postion, her face full of worry. His stomach dropped again.
"What's wrong?" he asked. She stared at him.
"She's sick, sir," she whispered. "She's really sick."
He took off running, then, to her room on the other side of the castle. The guards, who must have not been informed, stood confused. He pushed his feet further and further. Rounding a corner, not aware of the minimum grip he had with his feet, he slipped and fell to the floor. It was a minor set back, for he stumbled back up and started running again.
He reached her door, and couldn't get in. Servents and guards where crowded in the doorway.
"Move," he said, a bit rudely, and shoved them out of the way. He froze when he finally made it through and laid his eyes on her.
She was lying in bed, her chest moving slowly with each struggled breath she took. Her face was a deathly pale, and her body was covered in sweat.
His heart broke in two, and he nearly fell to the floor.
He stumbled over to her bed and climbed in, pulling her into his lap. Her mother and father stood on the other side of the bed, holding her hand in theirs.
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel" he brushed the sweat covered hair from her face. "I'm here now. I'm here."
Her eyes fluttered open, slowly, and she seemed to relax just slightly seeing he was there.
"Eugene," she said quietly, brokenly. He placed his hand on the side of her face, rubbing her check with his thumb, staring into her eyes. The innocence was gone. Pain and struggle was all he could see, and it broke him.
He looked up and met eyes with the king, and his face wasn't pleasant. The queen's was the same. It seemed to say, "say your goodbyes. say your goodbyes."
No, no, no, he battled in his mind.
He looked back down at her, and she looked so tired.
"No, no," he leaned down close to her. "Don't you leave me, Rapunzel. Don't you leave me."
She shook her head slowly and shook her head. "I have to, Eugene. I have to."
"No!" he sobbed, his head ducking into her next. "No, Rapunzel. Don't. Please."
"Don't cry, Eugene," she said quietly. He pulled back and looked into her eyes.
"How can I not? I'm losing the girl I love," he said. She took a deep breath and smiled a bit, and he saw life enter her eyes; barely, but surely.
"Because," she blinked. "Flynn Rider doesn't cry."
He laughed a broken laugh, and put his hand on the side of her warm face.
"I love you, Eugene," she whispered. "Thank you. For everything."
He shook his head. "Don't say goodbye. Don't say goodbye."
Her hand was on the side of his face, even though she was weak against his skin. "It'll be okay."
Tears brimmed his eyes, and he couldn't see clearly. "I love you. I love you, Rapunzel. Always remember you were my new dream. Always remember."
"I will, Eugene. I will."
Her eyes, although never leaving his, slowly closed. Closing her from his world forever.
He leaned down and held her close to him, tears finally spilling over his eyes.
He didn't know what to do. He wasn't going to leave her. Not yet. He held her in his arms and put his hand on the side of her face.
He knew one thing he owed to her. Something she had done years ago for him.
He held her close, and sang to her.
Flower, gleam and glow. Let your power shine. Make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine. Heal what has been hurt. Change the fates design. Save what has been lost, bring back what once was mine.
He leaned down to her face, and pressed his forehead against hers, like he had done so many times before.
"What once was mine," and he kissed her gently once more.