AN - This is a collection of shorts about Rapunzel from my story, Freudian. These will not make sense if you haven't read Freudian. However, you do not need to read these to understand Freudian. These are just for fun. I might not even write them in order. In fact, they might even confuse you because they might not all fit. Two very different people probably would have two very different perceptions of reality, right? Think of this as fanfiction of fanfiction. Yes.
This short takes place not long after Freudian chapter 12. But before Flynn reaches out to Rapunzel again.
Also, since for some reason I don't like putting AN's on Freudian, I'm gonna get all my announcements out here.
Cyril made a tumblr dedicated to Freudian, with tons and tons of amazing fanart, cosplay, etc. You should check it out! freudianfans dot tumblr dot com .
And, I made a Rapunzel roleplay tumblr. It's finallygotalife dot tumblr dot com . TheSmokinSmolder is my Flynn and Airplane is my Pascal and it's a big party! You should come.
Okay! Thanks for reading!
"Hey, Sweetie! Come on in! How was your week?"
Rapunzel took her usual seat, forcing a smile and swallowing down her anxiety. She didn't usually mind therapy. Sometimes she even liked it - it was a place to say weird things, and sad things, and hard things, without worrying about burdening people. Sometimes she even got good advice.
But other times it opened doors that were best left closed. They'd stumble upon something locked inside her that, once unearthed, caused her more pain than she knew what to do with. They always seemed to run out of time right when she was most vulnerable, and then she was cast out into the world again, raw and helpless, to deal with it on her own until the next week.
At least she had Flynn. Between work and him, she didn't have a lot of time to think about what was plaguing her. And he always made her laugh, and let her talk when she had to, and let her be silent when she needed that instead. And there was something about his presence, something that made her feel safe.
But then, she didn't really have him anymore. She never did. How much of their relationship had she invented?
She could feel her throat closing up at the thought and swallowed, taking deep, even breaths. Totally not good to start therapy in tears.
Dr. Jones tilted her head, frowning sympathetically. "Not so great? What happened?"
Rapunzel took a drink from the glass of water Dr. Jones offered her, trying to explain what had happened without getting too emotional about it. "Um... well..." she rushed out the rest before her voice could crack. "I don't think Flynn and I are friends anymore."
Rapunzel knew that Dr. Jones didn't like Flynn, but she gave the therapist credit for looking legitimately sympathetic. "I'm sorry to hear that. I know he was important to you."
"Is important to me. Just because he doesn't like me doesn't mean he stops being important."
"Of course not. Is important. Why do you think he doesn't like you? What happened?"
As Rapunzel had spent the days since the disaster playing it over and over again in her head, it was easy to recall. "I... uh... we kissed. And... he didn't like it. He got really upset."
Dr. Jones sat up a little straighter, her thin lips pressed into a straight line. "He kissed you?"
If only that were it. If only he'd just leaned over and kissed her, just because he wanted to, just because he wanted her, just like she'd fantasized he would. Was it so wrong that she wanted that? Was it really such a bad thing?
Rapunzel sighed, pushing the toe of her sneaker into the carpet. "Not exactly. I paid him to kiss me. He'd kept avoiding it other ways, and I knew other women did that, so I tried it."
Dr. Jones raised an eyebrow. "He charged you?"
"No, it was my idea. He didn't even like the idea, he wouldn't take my money. But I just kept pushing him."
Scoffing, Dr. Jones shook her head. "Trust me, you can't push Flynn Rider into anything. He's his own man, and he does whatever he wants. Whatever happened, I can guarantee it was his fault."
Rapunzel was silent. Dr. Jones was biased against Flynn. It was true that Flynn was his own person, and generally he did do what he wanted to do, but Rapunzel couldn't help but feel that he was different around her, that he cared enough about her to be impacted, at least a little, by what she said and did. Or maybe that was delusional again. She wanted so badly to have some kind of influence in the world, why not dream she mattered to Flynn Rider, the most untouchable person she'd ever met? Hilarious. Truly, laughable.
"Rapunzel, I mean it. You can't beat yourself up about this. It sounds like he manipulated you into some twisted exchange, and then lashed out at you. He's been cruel to you from the start."
It was hard to argue when she couldn't trust her own memory or perception, but that just felt wrong to her. "No, that's not true. He's been very kind to me. He gave me that sketchbook, and he took care of me when I was... sick. And he helped me get my hair cut. And he sat with me at the court house so I would not be afraid. He didn't have to do those things, but he did, because he is a good person." Somehow listing these events, which she was positive happened, made her feel better about the entire situation. "It's only when I push him that he pushes back. And that makes sense, right? Who likes to be pushed around?"
"You really think you can push Flynn Rider around?"
She didn't want to. It's not that she wanted to hurt him, or challenge him, or upset him. Actually she really wanted to make him happy. When he was happy, her entire world was brighter. Everything felt a little less difficult when he smiled at her. But she was a little offended that Dr. Jones persistently thought that Rapunzel was incapable of having any willpower or effect on her surroundings. "I think I can get him off balance, and he doesn't like that. He's not as wild as everyone thinks he is. He has his way of going about things and he likes to stick to it. Like a turtle. A turtle with a really flashy, fancy shell, so everybody is misled."
"Yes. And I all I wanted to do was pet him. But I ended up pushing too hard and he fell over on his back, you know, his legs all splayed, waving in the air," Rapunzel demonstrated a little, pawing at the air in front of her, "and he's uncomfortable and mad. I mean, I'd be mad if someone did that to me, too."
Rapunzel thought that was a great analogy, but Dr. Jones just sighed, looking at Rapunzel pityingly. Rapunzel hated that look. "Rapunzel..." Dr. Jones said slowly, carefully, as if it pained her to speak. "Honey, I wasn't there, I don't know what happened between you and Flynn, but I do know him. What you're dealing with right now is a hard thing for anyoneto learn, even those of us who were in a social environment our entire lives. Sometimes, often, the simplest answer is the correct one. But as humans we tend to look at a situation and see only what we want to, moving memories and evidence around to suit our interests."
Rapunzel frowned, "You think I'm lying to you?"
"Not lying, no," Dr. Jones shook her head. "But I think you really want Flynn to love you - and I can understand that, we all want to be loved, it's one of our most basic needs - and you want this so much that you'll see anything but the truth, here."
Rapunzel was silent, wanting to cling to her assessment but rationally deferring to someone who knew more about Flynn, more about minds, and more about life than Rapunzel might ever.
"Sweetheart, what's more plausible? That Flynn is a turtle or that he is cruel?"
"I don't mean literally a turtle..."
"I know what you mean."
Rapunzel swallowed. "You just don't think he could like me."
"I think any normal person would love you. I think Flynn's senses are defective."
Rapunzel disagreed - he had an amazing knack for reading people. He was so quick on his feet. He was so charismatic. But it seemed like she had to think something was wrong with him or everything was wrong with her. And she didn't like either of those options. She wanted desperately to be lovable, and almost as desperately to be loved by Flynn.
Unbidden, tears choked her, bubbling up from her eyes more quickly than she could wipe them away, trickling down the sides of her cheeks. "I... I think I love him."
The pity in Dr. Jones's expression tripled. "Then you are doing Flynn Rider a much greater honor than he may ever deserve."
"I don't want to honor him," Rapunzel said around her racketed breaths. "I want to be with him."
"I know, sweetie. But unfortunately that's not a decision you can make alone. Have you heard the saying 'you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink'? In this case it means that you can give Flynn every chance to have a meaningful, intimate relationship with you but you can't make him take that chance. You can't even make him want to."
"You think he doesn't want me at all?"
"...I think Flynn has a history of womanizing. I think he has lied to you constantly since you've known him. I think you're a wonderful girl, and for that reason you are not his type."
Wonderful girl was poor consolation. How wonderful could she be if he didn't want her? Wonderful was meaningless to her if he didn't think so.
"But Rapunzel, I promise not all men will be this way. You just kind of... jumped into the deep end with men. But you are pretty, and smart, and fun, and kind, and I promise there will be plenty of nice young men who think so. Boys closer to your age, maybe."
Rapunzel thought about the boys her age she'd met. Sometimes they hung around the hotel lobby, or in the park where she liked to feed the birds. Sometimes they even looked at her, but it was never in a way she particularly liked. She always felt like she was being assessed in some way, and either it ended in them staring dumbly at her or saying something to their friends that evoked a lot of chuckles. Chuckles that felt hurtful and not funny at all. "I don't think I like boys my age."
"Do you really know any?"
Rapunzel shook her head . In fairness, she hadn't even really talked to any of them. She said excuse me on the train occasionally, and sometimes they moved to let her past but mostly they couldn't hear her over their earphones. Once a boy maybe a little older than she was got her a cabbage she couldn't reach at the market. He worked at the vegetable stall. That was nice of him. Maybe she should talk to him. But what would they talk about? With Flynn it was so easy. She said whatever was on her mind and he'd either have a response or just smile. It never felt like effort to talk to Flynn. What could she possibly say to cabbage boy?
"Why don't you try taking an art class? You love art. Or joining a rec team? You could meet other people your age. Rapunzel, Flynn is the only person you've ever connected with. He won't be the last. I know how much this hurts you, right now. But Flynn Rider is not the be-all and end-all of men."
When Rapunzel left the office, she checked her phone. Nothing. She hadn't heard from Flynn since their kiss. She hadn't reached out to him, either. If he didn't want her, she wasn't going to keep making a fool of herself.
But she'd kept all of his old texts, and she read a few now, out of nostalgia, or maybe masochism. He'd sent them one week when she was having a particularly hard time, and he knew that she was dreading therapy and all it would dredge up.
Text received 12:06 pm: Ice cream after shrink? My treat.
Text received 12:10 pm: Come ooooon answer me in session. Jones'll be pissed.
She hadn't answered him because her ringer had been off, and she didn't check before returning to work. She'd regretted it so keenly then, and more so now. What if she'd seen? What if they'd gone? What if she hadn't pushed him? Would they have moved slower, but at least moved? Would she still have a friend to see every night? Or something more?
But then she remembered the icy way he'd shoved her from him after their first kiss, her first kiss. The cruel blandness on his face when he asked her if she got what she wanted from him. It cut through the haze of her happiness and stabbed straight through her heart. How could he have held her that way one moment, so tightly, and kissed her so thoroughly, so passionately, and the next push her away like she was nothing?
She pondered Jones's words and she wondered if they were true. And she wondered if it was really just Flynn's idea of entertainment. To be sweet to her, to be kind to her, and then to want nothing to do with her. Was he so jaded, so batted around by his life that this was what he did to amuse himself?
Rapunzel had spent too much of her life serving the sickness of another already. She was a free woman now. And maybe Flynn Rider wasn't the be-all, end-all of men, after all.
Text received 12:15 pm: By the way, I saw a spotted squirrel outside the bakery this morning, and I thought of you.
But to Rapunzel, he was. He really was.