They had only been together for two months when the accident happened.
They had been skating, almost dancing on the ice, in front of a crowd of thousands. The perfect partners, arm in arm, hand in hand. Moving with grace and elegance, each act flowing together into the next as smoothly as rippling water.
The music soared. The other performers slid to a stop. And in a heartbeat, one was in the air, limbs spread as if flying. She positioned her legs, aimed into her partner's arms-
The other stumbled, hands wavering. She reached out, trying to make up for the mistake, but it was too late. The flyer fell, and with a sickening thud, a bloody crimson stained the pure white of the ice, the platinum blonde of their hair slowly turning dark.
It was silent.
Then there was a scream.
No!
The ambulance came minutes later. They lifted her lifeless body onto the stretcher, and with gruff sighs, restrained her sobbing partner, telling her that they would do the best they could.
She let out another wail, and as it drove off, a single word escaped her grieving lips.
Elsa.
She barely made it home. She asked him to drive her, or rather, he insisted, as her arms were shaking, her breathing was irregular, her cheeks were stained with tears. When she managed to put her key in the lock, she threw herself on the couch, head buried in her knees, his arm around her, weeping.
They stayed like that the entire night and into the morning, his comforting whispers accompanied by her sobs of, "It's all my fault. It's all my fault..."
I'm sorry.
Her tears were endless, flowing steadily into days, weeks, months. He comforted her, came to see her every day, took her in to her sister's unconscious body, where they would watch the unsteady rise and fall of her breathing.
In those times she was the most unstable. She yelled at him, at her, at herself. She cursed the sky, screaming for an answer. She would scream and fight and sob until he would finally guide her out, back to her home, where he would hold her again for another night, another night of agonizing waiting.
Please wake up.
It became a regular thing for them. They would visit her, stay by her bedside for hours on end, with nothing but the ticking of a clock to guide them through their tears.
He was her manager. She was her sister. She was the one who brought them together, and yet her eyes could not see the life she had created. She lay there, silent, for months.
The tears flowed steadily, but everything eventually came to an end. When her heartbeat finally began to slow, she had no tears left to give.
It's all my fault.
She refused to leave, holding her hands, not eating, not sleeping, only watching, watching the dreaded meter spikes appear farther and farther apart. And when Elsa's heartbeat finally stopped, Anna, in desperation, pressed her lips to the other's putting all her hope, all her prayers, all her days spent crying, all her love into that kiss, waiting for an answer, a dream, a miracle.
Please come back.
The meter spiked.
Then it was still.
I thought I could save you.
The funeral was quiet, with no family to attend, only a few close friends. He held her close as the prayers were said, strong arms protecting her from misery and grief, even though he couldn't protect her heart.
I thought my prayers would be answered.
They watched her face, so beautiful, so peaceful, as the lid was sealed, over a face that could still have been sleeping, and had been sleeping for over a year. They watched as the casket was lowered in the ground, the dirt moved over it, a marker bearing only a single, elaborate snowflake set on top.
I thought my love would see us through.
And when everyone else had left, when the sun was setting, she cried, not for the first time, and not for the last, for her best friend, her partner, her secret-keeper, her parent...
Her sister.
I believed in a miracle, that one would save your life.
The tears flowed easily, staining her cheeks with salt, his shirt with water. But neither cared. They only had memories now. Never again would she laugh, or give hugs, or skate, or kiss. Her life had just begun, only to be snatched away by death's cruel hand.
But I was wrong.
Never again would Elsa open her eyes. Never again would she see Anna's face. Never again could she wrap her arms around her sister and say, "I love you."
The miracle never happened.