Antigravity (Flynn Rider x Reader)

XVI

Published: July 28, 2022

1 YEAR LATER

You fall onto a stool at the bar, your eyes heavy and your limbs weak. It's been a long day, just like every other day since Rapunzel left and Eugene vanished. Today, though, your mind has been silently reminding you of every mistake you've ever made, every bad outcome that was your fault, and most of all, the relationships that have disappeared from your life.

Living with Mirabelle has had its ups and downs. Yes, she was very kind, she let you live there for the simple cost of helping out around her shop, and she didn't pester you about your past experiences, but you feel like you lack that human connection. You can tell that she, like you, is a broken woman. Neither of you have divulged much about yourselves.

That's not what's on your mind right now, though. The last year has been a whirlwind of searching for Rapunzel, giving up, seeking help, and repeat. You have gotten stuck in the cycle too many times to count, looking for her for different reasons but always giving up for the same one: she chose to leave. She doesn't want anything to do with you, and there is nothing you can do about that.

So, as you sit at the bar surrounded by obnoxious drunks, you let yourself go numb as you knock back a mug of mead. You order another as someone sits next to you. You ignore him, as you do any other man who sits next to you, as your order another drink. You can feel his gaze boring into your right temple, but you refuse to give him the light of day. You learned your lesson with drunk men. But still, you can feel him looking at you.

"Look, buddy," you begin, whipping your head to the side to confront the pervert, when you see him.

Eugene Fitzherbert.

He continues looking at you, but you see no emotion. It's kind of a relief -- after all, you're used to seeing only lust and anger that in bar patrons' eyes. You stare back at him, so emotionally drained that even confusion doesn't cross your mind. All you know is that he is there, and you don't know how you feel about that. He left you, too, after all. Did he find you on purpose? You shake your head at him, looking to the mug that's just arrived in front of you.

"Forgot how to speak?" Eugene says, still looking at you.

"What, Eugene?" you ask. You can hear the disdain in your voice, and you wonder when exactly you started hating him.

"Don't call me that. I don't use that name anymore," he tells you.

"Ooh, how mysterious and cool of you," you say, waving your hands around before taking a swig of mead.

"What's with the attitude?" You can practically hear the smirk forming on his face.

"Hmm, I dunno... maybe being abandoned by everyone I'd literally ever met changes a person."

"Yeah, well, I've changed too, killer," he mutters.

"Ooh, how dark and dramatic of you."

"I think I like the new (Y/n)."

You shoot him a fake, sugary smile and state, "I don't need male validation."

"You find Rapunzel yet?" he asks in a teasing tone as you're lifting the mead to your mouth. Startling even yourself, you slam the mug back down and bring yourself to look into his eyes. That's when you see it; the emptiness, the fatigue... the torment. His eyes are so dark they could swallow you whole.

You feel a bubble of laughter rising in your throat and you start cackling as Flynn studies you curiously. It's surprisingly funny to you that you forgot how captivating his looks are.

"Christ, killer, how many drinks have you had?"

You continue laughing, staring into your mug, ignoring the confused looks from the other patrons. You feel a hand on your back and your smile fades.

"Don't touch me," you say sternly, not even sure who was touching you. You look toward Flynn and see his hand move back to the bar. He looks at you warily, waving down the barkeep to order himself some ale.

You finish most of your mead in one breath, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You're suddenly very, very tired, and you're not sure if it's from the heat of the mead or the exhaustion building up. You look over at Flynn, instantly finding yourself caught in his cold gaze. What happened to the warm, happy boy you once knew?

"Eugene." You say this with a certain defiance, not even sure what you want to say after.

"Flynn," he corrects sternly, eyes on you as he chugs his ale.

"Eugene," you insist.

"Don't call me that."

The alcohol makes you childish as you say, "okay, Eugene."

"Don't f*cking call me that, (Y/n)."

"Woo, swear words, you're so tough," you giggle, feeling your veins catch fire as the alcohol reaches them. You drink some more eagerly.

"(Y/n), slow down with that. You'll pass out and then I'll feel bad."

"Then ignore me," you tell him, your words sloshing together like the liquid in your stomach.

"That's it, I'm cutting you off," he states, pulling the beverage away from you.

"No!" you yell, attracting the attention of the barkeep. She looks at Flynn threateningly as she dries a glass.

"You'll pass out."

"I don't care, as long as I don't feel! I don't want to feel!" you yell at him. You see your vision waver, and you do feel something. Embarrassment, because he was right -- you're actively passing out.

~+~

You wake up in bed, shimmying your body against the cozy comforter and snuggling your face against it. Then the aching in your skull hits and you groan, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. You realize that you don't know where you are and a surge of panic floods your systems. To your left, Flynn lays in the bed, his tousled hair delicately brushing against his forehead.

"No, no, no," you repeat, waking him up. His eyes flutter open and his face contorts, his dark brows closing in on the rest of his features.

"What?" he asks, his voice rattling in his throat in a way that would've made you melt a year ago.

"Tell me we didn't. Tell me."

"What? Oh. Oh. No, your crazy a** got drunk last night and I couldn't exactly leave you slumped over the counter for guys to take advantage of you."

The old you would've found that adorable. At least, until what he said next.

"Why?" he asked. "Do you wish that we did?" He gives you a cheeky look as he sits up, somehow towering over you. He challenges you with a stare, one intending to make you look away, but you stared right back at him.

"What are you doing in Corona, Flynn Rider?"

"You know, the beautiful women," he states with a shrug.

You take a breath to speak, but he speaks first. "Not you, of course."

You start for the exit.