You looked a Mess

II

'I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know
She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I'll share her home'

They had both kept to the terms of their agreement, determined to fulfil the duties resting on each of the parties. Rapunzel once again laid out the newspapers, putting them on the floor, that was now exposed to splashing; and rolling up the sleeves of her checked shirt, she started to cover the wall with new layers of the light paint. Before she knew it, her work was interrupted by Hiccup, inviting her to the table with a kind bow. As she stepped into the kitchen, she was greeted by the tastiest, most wonderfully smelling gnocchi al ragù she had ever had a chance to try.

As in confirmation to the young man's assumptions, they dined in a perfect silence.

When they finished, he forced her to leave him all the cleaning and go back to work herself. She opposed him for a moment, until he reminded her what a fleeting thing inspiration is – and how important it is to use every second of its presence. Then she yielded, not missing a chance to roll her eyes as she left the kitchen.

Now they were standing before the wall, arm in arm, eyeing the contour in front of them. She judged her work carefully, compressing her lips and frowning – he scratched his chin almost theatrically, narrowing his eyes and smacking quietly.

Eventually, the lad decided to pronounce his thoughts out loud: "Well, yes. Miss Corona, I think we can call it a progress. You definitely have developed your skills. The Academy accepts your project."

"It may work after all." She answered, pretending she hadn't heard the derisive note ringing in his voice. "Only, it seems..."

"Not effuse enough?"

"Ha, ha. No." She elbowed the boy, not even glancing at him. "But something's off."

"Here we go again. For once in your life, can't you acknowledge that you've simply succeeded? That perfectionism of yours is getting morbid. That thing needs treating."

"As long you can see your mistakes, you're able to correct them." She retorted with confidence, her gaze still fixed on the wall. "That's how you reach perfection."

"It's also how you lose your health. Mental health."

She nudged him again.

"You know, you should be the one urging me to work." She threw in, shifting her sight on him. "Pointing my errors and the like, not convincing me that whatever I do I do well. I won't achieve anything, if you don't."

"I do not believe it." Her friend flung his arms into the air and then rested his hands on his neck in a resigned gesture. "I have spent the whole flipping day driving her to that wretched painting and all she does is tell me that I don't motivate her! That I slow down her artistic development! What, don't you want to state that it's my fault it's taking so long, too?"

Rapunzel didn't answer. Instead, she reached out a hand with damp brush that she still held, and with a brisk move she stroke his face, leaving a thick, light line on his cheek. He jumped back as if he'd been stung, which only caused her repressed laugh to resound with its full loudness.

"Hey!" Hiccup cried, putting his hand to the sullied place in a reflex action and scowling, as he realised the density of his own doing. "I haven't spent the last eight hours avoiding this paint so you could smear it on my face now."

"Oh, come on." She replied, using the words so commonly used by himself. "It's just a bit of acrylic."

"Just a bit of acrylic." He mumbled sarcastically, as if he really resented her for that petty trick. "And what if I'm allergic to it? What if I swell and end up dying in a sad, hospital bed?"