Plot Bunny Alert! Hey guys, this is pretty different than what I usually do, but I've always wanted to do something like this, and I thought that now would be a pretty good time to try it out. Umm, looking back on this, these sentences belong in a multiverse, I guess. Anyways, let me know what you think of it, if you can. Enjoy, and thanks for reading! ^^ (PS, the words of the moments can be found in this order in other stories, but I found this set up in a Peter Pan story by Rosa Cotton called Moments in Time. You should all check it out! She's a stupendous writer, and all of her works are lovely!)
He smooths her bedraggled hair, hushes her, and, as much as it tears him inside, promises that Eugene would come in no time.
For some reason he can't exactly pinpoint, he shivers when her sixteen-year-old lips thank him with an eight-year-old kiss on the cheek.
Although Rapunzel never knows, she's the only one who had seen him so vulnerable.
She always had to turn away whenever he left the tower.
"So they aren't actually toes," and sighs in relief as she sees the bemused nod of his head.
Oddly enough, a heavy gloom always fell on poor Corona one day every year in winter, though nobody could say as to why.
He doesn't know why she gushes about that Flynn guy's so-called 'chocolatey' hair, and runs his fingers unsurely through his own December locks.
The adrenaline rush and joy never fail to run through his system whenever she says his name.
"You rang?", and a smirk reflects off of his lips as he leaps through the open tower window.
Her hard laughs sends her to the floor, but Rapunzel can't help it when his alabaster ears-sticking out broadly above the snow drift- are the only parts of his buried form visible.
"You're Jack Frost," she says simply, and giggles when his jaw slackens even further.
Every movement, every glance, every whisper from Flynn sends her into overdrive, she secretly confides to Jack.
Standing in front of a smooth marble plaque, he can't even manage to croak a 'Hello'.
When his longtime friend comes out of her room casually dressed in only her underwear and slip, he has to excuse himself and the reddening blush that creeps along his face.
There are many types of touches, she concludes: Mother's tap on her head, Pascal's pat on her shoulder, and Jack's long, chilled embrace.
He beams proudly at the awe-inspiring swirling snow day he's created, yet the smile falters as another child passes through him easily.
He breaks under her dejected, puppy-dog eyes, and reluctantly agrees to come and dance with her.
Normally, Jack would grab at any chance to ride on the sprinting wind, but when he's with Rapunzel, he's perfectly okay with walking slow.
It's springtime though, she chides to herself, but there's still a minuscule part of her that believes the cool breeze was from him.
When Jack tells Rapunzel of his stories from all around the world, he can't but notice the strained corners of her upturned mouth.
When asked why the name 'Jackson' for her son, Rapunzel's eyes become pensive, and she replies,"Because of an old friend."
He narrows his eyes at the small green pet, who, at the time being, received more attention from Rapunzel than he.
He marvels at how such hands-so delicately smooth and soft- could deliver such a punch to his jaw.
Jack lurches back in shock after she licks hand; Rapunzel tilts her head, and asks him why, in spite of his minty aroma, he doesn't taste like it.
Every year, whether or not it's just him in her life, he promises to visit her.
"We'll be friends forever, right Jack?" the petite eight-year-old asks her raggedy nine-year old neighbor.
It sickens him to see the sticky crimson color staining the floor, but he can only watch on helplessly as Rapunzel breaks down over her would-be lover's lifeless body.
Rapunzel just rolls her eyes when he protests that he's fine, and that it'd be pretty sad for a spirit of winter to get a cold.
Tooth asks him where he got the little humming tune from, and he looks back into a faraway time where healing and magic worked together.
Long after Mother's asleep, she creeps over to the window and begs to the night sky for he to return.
Jade green pierces his eyes again, and he's suddenly reminded why he can never really leave.
Little Lily cannot understand why her mother tenses up when the nice grocer boy says his name is Jackson.
One hand running through his thinned hair, he grips the hand of his aged, emaciated wife, begging her not to leave.
After their argument, she can't see his sky eyes past the furious, bright flashes that narrow into thin slits.
Rapunzel rolls the rocking chair back and forth and lets the glittering moonlit snow fall around her.
Hands browsing through a selection of fresh pomegranates, she turns to apologize to someone she'd brushed against, and finds herself lost in a pair of sapphire eyes.
Jack looks on at her glowing hair in interest, responding with a light snowfall pouring out of his staff.
A winkled smile dawns on her face when her grandchildren hopefully wait by the glass panes for a certain spirit of winter to bring in a snow day.
The smile he's able to coax out of her makes him forget about the rest of his deliveries he has to take (but he probably wasn't going to deliver them anyways).
"I do love you though, Jack. You're my best friend after all." Her enthusiastic hug is slowly returned moments later.
Jack hesitantly intertwines his hands with hers, and is amazed at how fast Rapunzel's sleeping fit stopped.
Sometimes, when he's in an open and empty place, he watches the clouds and thinks of her.
Every time she gazes into his cerulean eyes, she's thinks of the freedom that will never be hers.
Arms encased in each other, her face buried into the crook of his neck, he closes his eyes and wonders if she's always been this warm.
For a moment, he suppresses the bile in his stomach, raises his invisible glass of wine, and whispers with a fallen smile, "To the bride and groom."
They lock eyes from across the bustling street, a bright, vivacious smile bursting across her face.
When the night comes around, he thinks that there's probably a reason why the sun and moon are never together.
Her breath hitches in her throat, head turning expectantly, wondering who exactly her small son could have been waving to from the balcony.
I'm not gonna ask, he thinks, and goes to work unwrapping her from her tangled, seventy-foot mess.
The very universe explodes around him when he leans in to kiss her now youthful, rose petal lips; the two of them pull back, dazed and smiling, and walk in the sunlight, away from a family who mourns the peaceful body of their grandmother.