ANGST ALERT! Short, sweet, sad. Oneshot (I MEAN IT I SWEAR). Modern AU, Helsa, Mature Language. The break up. Enjoy! Review! hugs and kisses - marth
"That's mine."
"My bad, you're right." Hans dropped the clock onto the bed and moved on to the next item. This was a lot messier than he had imagined. Break ups were never easy, but Elsa was making it damn near impossible. Everything he touched was hers, and even if it wasn't, he didn't care. He just wanted to be out of her life. They had given it a good go, put their full effort into the relationship, but it just hadn't been enough. She never seemed to fully trust him, and he just wasn't a good enough man for her.
"This is yours, though." She tossed him the sweater that she had worn to bed every night for two years. He flinched; it seemed like she was using this as her last chance to inflict as much emotional scarring as she could. Hans sighed and shoved the worn sweater into his duffel bag. "And I'm keeping Olaf."
Hans felt his jaw clench. "Fine, he's yours." He would miss the sweet old dog they had rescued, but it if meant Elsa would be happier, he would just have to get over it.
"And this, I don't want this." Her voice had a bitter, angry tone as she threw a set of towels at him. There was a hair brush in there too, and when it struck him in the cheek, it stung.
"Come on, Elsa, act like a grown up. Just let me take my stuff and go."
Her eyes blazed with fury. "Oh, I'm the one that should act like a grown up? Me? I'm the one that should be mature, when you've never been anything but immature. You never clean, you never do anything to help me around the house, you always insult me like a fifth grader, you lie to me, you-"
"Elsa!" Hans nearly shouted. "There's no point in rehashing this. Shut up and let me go." He knew that the longer he stayed, the harder this would be. As angry as she made him, he still loved her and didn't want her to agonize over him for too long like he knew she would.
"No, you shut up! You want to leave so badly, I'll help you pack!" she was frantic now, and began tossing everything she could reach. "Your stupid shoes, your ugly sports coat, this fucking awful lamp that your bitch mother bought us, just take it!" The lamp crashed to the floor as she pushed it off the night stand, shattering the heavy stained glass shade that had colored their walls so many nights. She continued to rummage through the stuff on the floor, searching for more ammunition. "Just take your shit, Hans," she sobbed, "and get out of my fucking apartment."
"Elsa, stop, just calm down for a moment," Hans pleaded as he tried to climb over the debris to reach her.
"I won't calm down! I have every right to be mad as hell. You're breaking my heart, Hans. Did you even stop to think about me, about anyone other than yourself? Did you, Hans?" Her usually beautiful voice rose higher with every word, tears staining her cheeks and burning her lips. "Is that all you do, Hans? Lie? You lied to me, you lied to Anna, just," she pulled at her hair in frustration, then fumbled with a finger. "Here, this is yours, take your goddamn ring Hans, it's yours too." She ripped the diamond band off of her finger and whipped it at him, where it bounced uselessly off of his chest.
Finally he made it over the war zone that was his side of the room and tried to take hold of her forearms. Elsa fought him desperately, eventually resorting to hitting and slapping anywhere she could reach. He felt something wet and warm smear his face, and he realized that her hands were bleeding from digging through the glass on the floor. "Fuck you, Hans! I gave you my heart, I gave you everything! I hate you! I hate you, you bastard." Her anger spent, the shaking woman knees buckled and she nearly collapsed.
Hans clutched her to his chest and tried to hide his own trembling. He lifted her up and laid on the bed with her, never letting her leave his arms for a moment. When she drifted off in her exhaustion, he wept into her hair.
…
Elsa felt like she had a hangover when she finally woke. There was no trace of the fight before. There was no trace of the man she loved, either. The entire room was cleaned, the lamp removed, her hands cleaned and bandaged. A glass of water with a bottle of ibuprofen rested on the nightstand, along with a folded note. Her diamond band was taped inside, and her tears began anew as she set the paper to the side.
My heart is yours, too.
