Where Jack Frost Attempts to Ask the Snow Queen to Prom but Doesn't Quite Succeed
This is not typically the type of things I write, but I've been down recently so I wanted to write something sort of cheesy to cheer me up, and what's cheesier than a Modern High School AU?
Admittedly, this ended up being more quirky than cheesy.
This is actually Jelsa – surprise! Well, my idea of Jelsa.
This was meant to be a one-shot, but since I've a tendency to write long things, I'm hoping that it would end as a two-shot.
A great deal of reference to Rise of The Brave Tangled Frozen Dragons material ahead, but they're not that important.
Act 1: Where Our Hero was Clearly an Idiot
You might be scratching your head after the reading the subtitle, wondering why exactly our hero was an idiot and why he was clearly so. Let me enlighten you.
Firstly, he was wearing a hoodie. A hoodie. A faded, ragged hoodie that he hadn't washed for the last five days.
It wasn't that he was lazy, or that he loved dirt. It was just that the hoodie was such a favorite of his that he wore it nearly twenty four-seven. To spend a second without it would immediately result in him being launched into what his friends called 'hoodie-withdrawal'. This would sometimes consist of him sitting cross-legged in front of the laundry machine and sighing heavily to himself every five minutes, then hanging it outside to dry and sighing again at the same intervals. This oddity of behavior had been documented by one E. Aster Bunnymund a.k.a. our hero's roommate, who had on occasionally threatened to upload footage of such online when our hero refused to dump his clothes on his side of their shared dorm room.
Secondly, it was a beautiful, sunny spring day.
Now, you might think that popping a question (no, not the 'will you marry me?', but a much less important question with much less commitment and expenses that silly teenagers ask each other) to the most gorgeous girl in the school on the most gorgeous day in the year might be appropriate, except for teeny, tiny detail. She's the 'Snow Queen'.
The label that her peers had stuck onto her had been stuck onto her for a reason. She liked winter, not spring. So on spring days, while people would be frolicking in the park and playing sports, she would be hiding in the library, pretending to build frozen castles in the air and waiting anxiously for winter to come round again. Obviously, she was not in a good mood right now.
Thirdly, she had no idea who he was. They shared two classes, but it didn't mean that she had ever acknowledged his existence. In a matter of fact, she rarely acknowledged anyone else's existence unless they had offended her or she needed something from them. Her frosty manner was the second reasom for her nickname - as cold as the snow and as haughty as a Queen. That alone should have tipped him off of how impossible his task was going to be.
Our hero was undaunted despite all these reasons. Therefore, we have no choice but to conclude that only he was an idiot, but that he was undoubtedly, irrevocably and completely an idiot.
On this gorgeous, beautiful spring day, he approached her with his hands tucked into his hoodie pockets. His toothpaste-commercial perfect teeth gleamed as he grinned, full of moronic optimism and the steps he took were so light that it might even be said that he was flying.
She, on the hand, was already frowning. The library was closed right now this early in the morning and some idiot had locked up all the study rooms, making it inaccessible. She was forced to bathe herself in the light of the rising sun as hiding herself in the shade of an oak tree proved quite impossible. Seated straight upright on the bench, she was diligently, though irately, pouring through the unabridged text of Pride and Prejudice while printing neat notes into the notebook balanced on her knee.
Her head was still bent down in concentration when he stood right in front of her, so our hero cleared his throat. "Ahem."
She didn't hear it, or perhaps she pretended not to, because she didn't respond.
Jack sucked in a breath, and cleared his throat again, louder this time. "AHEM."
Her eyes lifted up to him – those beautiful eyes so deep, so bright that he could write sonnets about them, if, well, he didn't suck so terribly at poetry. Her brows drew themselves together. "Can I help you?"
And here comes the fourth issue - the presentation of the question. He drew himself up straight, putting on his most adorable smile –as certified by his friends, well, the kinder friends at least – and asked, "Will you go to Prom with me?"
She stared at him hard as he had suddenly grown three-heads. "Excuse me?"
"Prom. Promenade. You know, the formal dance thing that school has every year for seniors," he elaborated, his smile fading a little. Still, he summoned all the confidence he could muster and asked again, "Will you go with me?"
She leaned her head to the side to give him a thorough look-over, then said with an incredulous expression, "I don't even know who you are."
"Yes, you do," he contradicted – a bad move that he didn't take notice of. It made her frown harder. "We have chemistry and math together. I'm Jack Frost."
"Jack … Frost," she repeated slowly, her countenance scrunched as she tried to recall this name. After five seconds, she gave up. "Sorry, I have no recollection of you."
"That's fine." He shrugged nonchalantly. He knew that she wasn't the most sociable of people, so he instantly forgave her. He returned to the more important subject. "So, will you go to Prom with me?"
She considered him silently for a few moments. Then – "No."
He was taken aback. I honestly don't know why he was. He should have seen this coming four reasons ago!
He opened his mouth to ask, "But why-"
"No."
"But I-"
"No."
"You haven't even allowed me to-"
"No." She propped the book up in her lap. "Goodbye."
She continued reading as he continued to stand down there, mouth hanging open. Somehow, he never really considered rejection.
He left with a sigh. It was as if this was a hoodie-withdrawal day.
Our hero, without doubt, was an idiot.
Act 2: Where Our Hero moaned about the Unfairness of Life and The Roommate was quite unsympathetic
"My life sucks."
"Get over it."
Jack didn't sit himself up on the his bed. He merely glanced over to the other boy, who was still absorbed in painting a tray of boiled eggs. Bunnymund, who preferred to called by his last name rather than his first (Jack was still in the process of finding out what 'E' in 'E. Aster Bunnymund' was in order to find blackmail material of his own) was a muscular athlete almost a head taller than Jack, whose hobbies included Taichi, Chocolate tasting and Egg-painting – a rather odd combination that made him a rather odd person.
"Why did you even ask her anyway?" his roommate asked as he swapped the thick brush for a smaller one. This he then dipped into the palette before beginning his illustration on its surface.
Jack sighed. "Because I like her."
"You don't even know anything about her," Bunnymund pointed out. "How can you like someone you barely know?"
The boy pushed himself off the bed, ready to make a retort, but then he thought about it. He then shut his mouth and plopped himself down on the bed, admitting, "Good point."
"Now, stop moping and do something with your life," the Australian student said, sitting the painted egg back in the egg box before removing another to paint.
Jack idly ran a hand through his white locks. It wasn't actually dyed – just a weird genetic disorder that he had. He pondered hard over this dilemma. Then inspiration struck him.
"I have a plan!" he announced triumphantly, punching his fist up in the air.
Bunnymund sniffed apathetically. "Sure ya' do."
Act 3: Where Our Hero sought Knowledge from A Dreary Insider
She was the ex-girlfriend of Hans, who was the current president of the historical society, of which Hiccup used to be a part of but quit and founded the Viking appreciation club, of which Astrid had joined, who had once gotten in a fight with Merida in the corridor, who used to share detention with Flynn, who once played a prank on Bunnymund and got in huge trouble for it.
Obviously, they were totally mutual acquaintances.
"I have no idea who you are," the girl said flatly. Both of them were sitting across each other in the canteen, after Anna – a.k.a. sister of the target - had been cornered by our hero into this position earlier on.
"Sure, you do," Jack insisted, unconsciously pressing against his own tray as he spoke. "I just told you how we should know each other."
"Really, I've never even heard of you," the girl said, taking a sip from her packet of orange juice, then made a face. She pushed the tray of canteen food away from herself, scrunching up her nose. "Okay, that's it. I officially can't stand this food." She sighed, resting her head on her arm as she gazed longing at Jack's tray. More accurately, Jack's sandwich.
The boy noted where her eye rested on, and with an inward growl of frustration, he picked up the sandwich and held it out to the girl. She eyed him with surprise, glancing at him, then back at the proffered food item.
"Just tell one thing that your sister likes," he said, waving the sandwich enticingly in front of her. "I just need one."
The girl tugged one of her braids for a moment as she thought. Then - "Chocolate."
She then swiped the sandwich from him, but it was okay, because Jack decided to steal the sandwich belonging to Astrid, who was sitting adjacent to him. This fiery tempered blonde then thought Merida stole it and decided to pick a fight with her.
To which Merida was totally okay with it and decided to fight back.
To which the two girls ended up punching each other black-and-blue while the rest of the canteen gathered around to watch, chanting 'Fight! Fight! Fight!'.
To which Flynn started taking bets for who was going to win.
After which, the Principal North came marching in, pulled them apart and hauled them off to detention.
After which, the head cleaner, Phil a.k.a. Yeti, grumbled about the mess the fight had left in the canteen as he came shuffling in with a mop.
After which, Jack just laughed, bit into his stolen sandwich and felt completely unrepentant.
After which, he heard a sharp snort of contempt.
He spun around and found himself staring straight at the Snow Queen herself, who appeared rather cross with him.
He gave her a small wave.
She frowned at him, straightened herself up and headed off for class, like the good girl she was.
Act 4: Where Our Hero had Not Learnt from Act 1
She glanced at her watch, because she's old-fashioned and priggish enough to actually wear a watch in an age where everyone else just checked their phones. She found such checking the phone as a practice impractical, for phones were very distracting especially when she was timing herself while doing practice papers, or when she wanted to time-keep her study time.
So for the above reasons, she found that watches were good enough to tell the time. Elsa had five minutes to go to her locker, go to the bathroom, hand-in her literature homework and reach class punctually. She had no time for conversations with strange white-haired boys, who thought themselves very charming just by the way they reclined themselves back on the locker doors, with their arms folded while flashing a dazzling smile.
And when she used the term 'dazzling', it was not meant to be a compliment. It was more akin to the sensation of having too much sun shining in your eyes until you wanted to rip out a machine gun and shoot it out of the sky.
"Hello there," he greeted her gleefully as she unlocked the metal door of her locker. "How are you this fine morning?"
"Why are you here?" she muttered to him, as she shoved the folders in her hands onto the shelves. She then removed all the necessary textbooks and reading material, comparing them to the mental timetable she stored in her head. Thanks to the slipperiness of her gloves, however, one file fell from her hands, slipping through her feet and skidding all the way to the other end of the hall.
Before she can move, he's already onto it - squeezing past all the other students, picking the file up and darting back her, producing the item with the enthusiasm of a dog returning a ball in a game of fetch.
Unlike an adoring, coddling pet-owner, however, Elsa was unamused.
"Thank you," she said curtly as she snatched the file back, adding it to her stack of things. With her shoulder, she slammed her locker shut. "Now, good day."
"Wait, I've got you- "
She zoomed straight past him. He left waving the chocolate bar helpless in the air.
Students nearby who had observed the scene look at him with a mixture of pity and incredulity. Merida took a video of him with her phone, made a GIF out of it and uploaded it online.
Act 5: A Reprise of Act 2
"Do you know that there's a viral video of you waving a chocolate bar according to the chorus of 'Don't Stop Believing'?"
Jack scowled, yanked his hood over his head hard. With his hands still tugging hard on the hoodie seams, he stared at the ceiling. "Why? What did I ever do to deserve this?"
"It's reaching over 100 shares already," Bunnymund continued to inform him, scrutinizing his laptop screen. "Still climbing."
The boy with white hair yanked the hood down harder and groaned. His roommate continued his web-browsing without sympathy, humming the ridiculously overplayed Journey song as he did.
Act 6: Where Our Hero tried to Pry More Information From the Dreary Insider
"I think I need something better than chocolate. Something … something magical. What makes your sister happy?"
Anna didn't answer, continue to munch on the sandwich quietly.
"Um, hello?"
She took another mouthful of the sandwich.
Jack sighed, leaning back into his chair, folding at his arms. There were a couple of students sitting on the opposite bench casting glances his way and laughing. He was starting to wonder if it all was worth it.
But he had stayed invisible to her for so long. He had to try.
He turned his head back to the girl who was still chewing on the sandwich that he had given her. Sighing, he leaned forward, opening his palms in surrender towards her. "You got to help me out here."
"I don't know."
Jack's eyes widened, incredulous. This was what he gave up his lunch for? "What?"
"I don't know my sister that well, okay?" The bitterness injected in her words threw him off. "I mean, we had the same parents and everything, but that doesn't mean we actually talk to each other!" She dropped the sandwich and buried her face in her palms.
Oh, my – she's crying. Someone get a doctor. Or the ambulance. Or the fire brigade. There's a girl crying in front of him. What to do? What to do? What to do?
Jack glanced around him quickly. Luckily, no one had seemed to notice that he managed to make his hopefully-prom-date's sister cry, because, well, if hopefully-prom-date found out, he was deader than before.
"We haven't talked proper for the longest time," he heard Anna sniffle. Sniff. "We used to be so close. And then-" dissolving into a near incoherent babble "-when our parents died, it got worse. She just kept shutting me out." Sniff. Sniff.
Despite his discomfort in the situation, Jack did catch she said. Almost immediately, his frustration dissolved away and he felt his heart go towards her.
"I'm so sorry," he said with a surprising amount of sincerity. "I lost my parents too."
She paused her sobs, her crimson-stained eyes glancing up at him. "Oh, I'm so sorry 'bout that."
"It's okay." He didn't dare quite look at her. "I don't actually remember them. I don't -" unintentionally, his voice cracked "-actually remember a lot of things about my childhood."
"Why not?" the girl asked him, curious though still teary.
"Accident." He suddenly felt himself clamping up, as he always did when the topic came about. He pushed the chair back and got to his feet. "I've got to go."
"Oh, okay," Anna said, still looking at him in a rather peculiar manner, like a pilgrim who has suddenly found enlightenment.
He did just run off, and he didn't notice the blonde girl standing from the second level of the canteen, gazing down toward the lower floor where her weeping sister dried her eyes. Her eyes narrowed together.
Act 7: Where Inappropriate Behavior was not Limited to Our Hero
"What did you say to my sister!"
He had to give it to her. She had a strong arm. Must be all that book-carrying.
She stared at him for a long moment. Jack gulped. He said that aloud, didn't he?
Fortunately, Elsa ignored his comment, pinning him harder against the lockers, asking again, "Well? What did you say to her?"
"Nothing!" He defended himself. He certainly wasn't going to tell her that he was attempting to extract information from the enemy side.
"Oh, really?" Her eyes narrowed dangerously at him – beautiful, shimmering, sapphires of eyes, but still dangerous. Her volume of Pride and Prejudice was still jabbing him in the Adam's apple. "Why was she crying then? Hmm?"
Something in him snapped. Hadn't he been patient? Hadn't he been nice? Why did she get to talk to him like that? "Well, maybe you're the reason why she cried? Hmmm?"
One of her perfectly trimmed brows rose. "Excuse me?"
"She told me all about how you guys don't talk much anymore, and how you used to be so close," he spat out, not even trying to conceal the fury bursting inside of him. He's normally much better at holding his temper than this, but there's something about this whole endeavor that had been eating him from the inside. "That's not the brightest, chirpiest relationship I've ever heard of."
The girl was taken aback by his answer, looking quite unsure for her usually stiff and steady self. "That's not-I don't-we-" she suddenly remembered who she was talking to and straightened herself up. "I don't have to tell you anything. I don't even know who you are."
"My name is Jack Frost! And I told you that before!" The boy pushed her book away and let out a growl of frustration. "What's the problem with you?"
"The problem with me?" Elsa drew herself up even taller, her expression contorted with cold disgust. "You're the one who keeps stalking me and bothering my family! Don't you have anything better to do?"
"Who just ignores their sister like that?" He went on with his rant as if she hadn't said anything. "Seriously, that's just mean!"
"This is none of your business," she hissed at him, her palms held up as if to shove him away, only for her to compose herself and fold her arms instead. Of course, she was the good girl. She was not allowed to act over top, even if she wanted to.
"Of course, it isn't. It's yours!" He jabbed a finger at her. "But I don't think you realize how much take for granted the great things you have. You don't how lucky you are to even have family." That last bit was uttered more to himself, but she did hear it.
He tore himself away from her, stuffing his hands back into his coat pockets and eyeing her with resentment. She watched him trudge down the walkway, his white head held high and proud, unable to see the tears tittering at the brink of his eyelids.
Elsa herself took a moment to ponder the words that had been exchanged in haste, and wonder if perhaps there was merit in them. But if she dared to admit so, she kept it concealed. There was no evidence of it on the outside, not by her stately march nor by her hardened gaze.
Act 8: Where Our Hero talked to An Inanimate Object
"I think this is pointless. I can't do this. I don't know why I try so hard."
The plush rabbit didn't response. Its ear drooped by the side of its exaggeratedly large head, giving a melancholic air about it. Jack adjusted those floppy ears, trying to make them stand up, but gravity's pull was much stronger and by the deadpan the stuffed bunny was giving him, it was clear that it had no intention of appearing more cheerful.
Jack sighed, finally giving up, saying to the plush toy, "You definitely belong to Bunnymund. You're absolutely no fun. My sister's toys were always the happy sort."
If the plush toy could nod, Jack was sure that it would.
Just then, he heard the turning of the key. His roommate had returned, bearing in his arms various books and as usual, more paints for his eggs. "H'allo, Frost, how was-" The Australian trailed off as he noticed his plush toy sitting on Jack's bed, across the boy himself. "What are you doing with Mr. Hops?"
"We're just having a conversation with each other," Jack told him matter-of-factly. "Actually, we're quite done now. So I'll return him to you now." Taking up the plush bunny's hand, he shook it with a completely straight face. "Goodnights, Mr. Hops."
The white-haired boy got up, lifted the stuffed toy up from his bed and transferred it over to Bunnymund's. He then nodded formally to his roommate, who was staring at him as if he had a head of donkey. Even after Jack had left the room, the Australian student could not help but feel extremely disturbed.
"Why do I always get the weird roommates?" he asked to no one in particular, even as he began to decorate one boiled egg with a carnation motif.
Mr. Hops just stared at him with complete apathy.
Act 9: Where Our Heroine Contemplated The Possibility of Her Error
There was rapping on the door. "Elsa? Can I come in?"
She didn't answer, because she had her head was buried in the books. Her roommate was out – thank goodness, for Merida was the epitome of 'coarse and unrefined' and very poor study mate – which left her alone with her mountains of study material. Not that Elsa minded studying – oh, no, she didn't. It was a safe, unexciting, repetitive activity that kept her temper calm and her attention occupied. Studying about reality was the best way to ignore reality.
"Elsa?"
It was unfortunate that she had forgotten to reply the first time, for Anna had decided to take her silence for consent and came in. The blonde girl kept her head down, her eyes glued firmly to the pages that she turned, her hand firmly jotting down the necessary notes.
"Hey," she heard Anna say in a light, cheery voice – laced with nervousness though. "Sorry, am I disturbing anything?"
"No," Elsa answered, still focused on her work. "You're not disturbing anything at-" she glanced at the textbook, then at the handout, before scribbling down her own answer down "-all."
"Oh, okay." Anna didn't sound completely convinced, but she sucked in a breath and then said in a chirpy manner, "So, some friends and I are going out to get supper. Y-you want to come?"
Elsa didn't even need to think very much about it. "No."
"Oh, alright then." The energy seemed to have gone out of Anna's voice. "Um, oh, yeah, I wanted to ask. Are you going to Prom with anyone?"
At this, the blonde girl had to reply with much more feeling, "No. Goodness, no!" She spun her chair around to face her sister. "Why?"
"Oh, 'cause Hans was supposed to take me, but then we broke up, but I still kinda reserved two tickets, and since I'm underclassman, I can't go without a date," her sister rattled on, twisting her fingers in her palms awkwardly. "So I'm kinda not sure what I should do with my tickets, whether I should sell them, or give them away, so I was wondering if you wanted-"
"I don't want your tickets, Anna," Elsa interrupted her, contempt evident in expression. "In a matter of fact, I'm not going to prom alone or with anyone. I think the whole thing altogether is just a silly distraction from the finals. They're only one month apart, you know."
"Oh." Anna was definitely deflated by now. She glanced at Elsa, then at the pile of work that the girl had. "Um, I'll, um, leave you to studying then."
"I'd like that. Thank you."
After the door was closed once again and Elsa was able return to her books and pages, it occurred to her for the first time in a long time that her treatment of her sister was perhaps a little, or perhaps, very curt. She frowned at the books that lay before her. She had always been the more studious one between both of them, more out of necessity rather than enjoyment of it.
Whereas Anna was more the type to live on the fly, Elsa required plans, contingencies and back-ups. The way she saw it, the world was turning steadily hurtling towards its own destruction, the crash of the economy was persistently imminent and the progress of the world would not wait for those who sniff the daisies. To fight the world, one had to prepare oneself for battle, and preparation was done by arming oneself with knowledge, training and achievements.
Anna didn't understand, of course. Exams were secondary to more important things like making friends that she would eventually lose, seeking love that she would also lose (had already lost, Elsa amended in her mind) and finding happiness, fun and laughter which she also one day would lose. Their differences in priorities had been what made them fall apart so easily in their growing years.
Elsa frowned, the events of that afternoon playing in her head - Anna crying, the white-haired stalker hollering at her… She had only ever had one sibling in her life, so she wasn't sure if her relationship with Anna really had problems, or if this was a normal phenomenon. Surely, all siblings grew more distant as they grow up, didn't they?
There was a knock on the door. Half-hoping that it was her sister, Elsa called out, "Come in."
The door swung open and Elsa spun her chair back around. She frowned. It was not Anna.
"This really needs to stop," she told him, folding her arms at him.
"Won't you just chill for a sec?" The intruder raised his hands in surrender. "I haven't even done anything yet. Look, all I want to do is give you this chocolate bar, okay?" He removed the said snack from his coat pocket and showed it to her. "I bought this for you, and I hate chocolate, and really don't want to give it to my roommate – who, by the way, adores chocolate - so please take it."
She peered at the offering with suspicion, then glanced up at him.
He rolled his eyes. "It's not poisoned. Or drugged. Or made of PlayDough."
After a silent moment, she reached her hand out, and took the chocolate bar. It didn't explode in her hands, so she took that as a good omen.
"You know," she heard him say, "food tastes better when shared."
Elsa cocked her head towards him, curious.
He ran a hand through snowy locks as he added, "Just figured you should think about that. You're all she has, really, and she you."
There was a part of her that wanted to snap at him, to tell him to mind his own business, but upon examining his mien, she couldn't help but feel that there was some sincerity in the action. A peculiar trait she would associate with one this annoying.
So Elsa told him, "Thank you."
He nodded with a tight smile, pulled the door open and exited her room.
The girl spent a few seconds toying with the chocolate and thinking about what he said when the door suddenly swung ajar. He poked his head through the gap.
"By the way," he said, solemnity gone and cheeky grin back, "will you to go prom with me?"
She stared down hard him. He just stared back.
Seeing that he refused to accept her non-verbal answer, she sighed and said, "No."
He blinked at her for a few seconds, then said in an oddly cheerful voice, "Okay! See you tomorrow!"
With that, the door was shut once more and she was finally left alone. She had to admit, his response to her dismissal was better than she had expected.
Elsa placed his gift on the side of her table, feeling strangely warm. She could feel a stirring of emotions inside her – an occurrence that she had a habit of suppressing, except that this time she wondered if she should suppress it at all. After all, he was right. Anna was really all she had.
Then, it struck her. What did he mean by 'see you tomorrow'?
And then the good feeling was gone and Elsa groaned, burying her face in her palms.
My knowledge of American High Schools is very limited, to forgive me if I get the details of Prom and etc. wrong. It's not supposed to be a very clever story…
Reviews would be much appreciated. Questions are welcome.