Okay, so this is no longer listed as complete. I'm taking prompts. Here's part two of I-no-longer-know-how-many.

"She Even Sneezes Beautifully"


When your best friend is sick, you take care of her. Especially when she's leaving in a few days to go back to university and you're stuck in high school like a loser. A baby loser. When your best friend is home from university on break, and sick, and her parents are out of town, and you're kind of hopelessly in love with her, you jump at the chance to bring her tea and make her soup and cuddle her even though you risk getting sick, too.

Elsa, my best friend, almost never gets sick. I can't really even remember the last time, except for a vague recollection of me being really little and trying to balance a teacup and saucer while carrying blankets and a pillow and a few stuffed animals from my house to Elsa's. My parents stopped me before I got out the door and one temper tantrum later I was driven to Elsa's, blankets, pillow, stuffed animals and all. Anyway, so Elsa's sick and she texted me like an hour ago that her parents left for their business trip slash vacation, or whatever, so now I'm standing in her kitchen making soup and tea.

It's weird to think that in a few months I'll be at Corona University with her. She'll be a senior and I'll just be a lowly freshman, but I'll still get to see her more. Maybe not, like, every day or anything like that, because she has other friends (older, prettier, out friends) and we'll both have class, but seeing her a few times a week still beats seeing her every few months. I know a lot can change in just a few months though and that kind of terrifies me. I mean, the last time Elsa was home on a break I realized that I'm totally head over heels for her (and bisexual, I guess). Not that she knows that, but I do, and that makes a difference.

It makes a difference in how I interact with her. Like, I don't think she notices, but I pay extra attention now. I see the little things, like how she always rolls her eyes at me when I ramble, but still listens to every dumb thing I say, or like how she squints when she reads even if she has her contacts in. It's all so beautiful and perfect and Elsa and how did I never notice before? I guess I did, subconsciously, but now it's all out in the open.

Except it's not, because I haven't told her that I like her. We're best friends, have been since forever, but I can't seem to bring myself to tell her how I feel. She's not dating anybody at her school, so it's not like I've already missed my chance in that sense at least. God I am not looking forward to that happening. Ugh, that's going to suck. I can't even understand why she's single. Is every lesbian, and bisexual girl, at her school totally insane? Elsa is the most beautiful person in the world! Then again, maybe they're all in love with her, too, and they're scared to say anything. Like me. I'm just so scared to mess things up between us. She might think of me only as a friend, or worse, she might see me as her, like, little sister. Gross. After all, just because Elsa's gay doesn't mean she'll suddenly be into me if I tell her that I'm into her. I am so into her.

I'm standing here, sighing, heart clenching in frustration and longing, in Elsa's kitchen making her tea and soup because she's sick and she's my best friend and of course I'm going to take care of her, but I'm secretly in love with her and she's… Texting me.

Did you get lost snowflake?

I grin, shaking my head. I lean back against the kitchen island and type out a reply.

No, snot-flake, I'm just waiting for the kettle to sing.

Giggling, I look up from my phone because the kettle starts whistling on cue. And on key. I text Elsa again, saying be right up, your majesty, and turn the stove off. Tea? Check. Ramen? Check. Carefully rehearsed declaration of my undying love for Elsa? …Maybe I'll wait until she's not sick to tell her, even if that means waiting until the summer.

I walk up the stairs to Elsa's room, almost slipping because they have no carpeting on the steps and when I'm just in socks it's kind of slippy. Not slippery, you know, just slippy. I broke my arm once when I was in middle school, Elsa was in high school already, and I was sleeping over and I got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and tripped over my pajamas and fell down their stairs. Yeah. That was a thing that happened. I don't know why I just remembered that. Anyway.

Elsa looks like a hot mess. She's still hot, but right now I mean it more in the literal sense since she has a fever and she's all sweaty but in a gross way, not like after she goes for a run. That's sexy sweat. Very sexy. This, with her nose all red and her eyes all watery and her voice all scratchy, not so much. Well, the scratchy voice thing is still kind of sexy.

"Anna?" Oh wow she sounds miserable. Never mind about the scratchy voice being hot.

I sit on the edge of her mattress and put the soup down on Elsa's bedside table. "How are you feeling?" I ask, grimacing in sympathy as Elsa struggles to sit up, coughing, and I hand her the tea.

She takes a sip and practically moans her approval, "Peppermint. You're the best, snowflake."

I just smile, trying not to blush (and totally failing), "It's still your favorite, right?"

Elsa nods, drowsily leaning her face over the steam.

I reach out and start rubbing her back, which is damp with sweat. Definitely not sexy sweat. We stay quiet like that for a while and I can feel every deep breath Elsa takes. I can feel the unhealthy heat of her skin and I know she's that warm because of the fever, but my mind wanders in the silence to other… scenarios involving Elsa and me and the sexy kind of sweat. Yeah, I'm in super deep over here.

Elsa finishes the tea and the soup and then she leans into me so that my arm is around her shoulder and her face is against my neck, which is torture, but it's also weirdly normal for us because we've always been affectionate. This is why I'm afraid to tell her. I don't want to lose this. I don't want to lose her.

"Anna?" She tilts her head up so her nose is brushing my jaw and, oh wow, cue full body shiver.

"Yeah?" I am proud to say my voice almost sounds normal. Almost.

"Aren't you worried about getting sick?"

"Nah. I mean, even if I do end up sick, better for me to miss a few days of school than for you to miss super important college classes, right?" I'm grinning like a loon because she's laughing. I love making Elsa laugh.

"I guess so, but I'll feel bad because I won't be here to take care of you back," Elsa says and the rasp in her voice is kind of sexy even though she sounds exhausted, and she shifts around under her blankets (and the ones I brought over) until her arms wrap around me.

I have to swallow a few times before I can reply, "I'll be okay, Els. Don't worry."

Elsa squeezes her arms, hugging me closer, and I think she's like half-asleep, "I always worry about you, snowflake."

Even though having her so close to me is amazing and also slightly gross, but only because she's sick otherwise it would just be awesome, I have to chuckle at that.

"Don't laugh," she whines, nuzzling her face into my shoulder, "You're my snowflake. It's my job to take care of you and love you and worry about you."

Love. She said love. Oh my god. My heart's going to explode or something it's beating so hard. …Of course, at that exact second, I remember that Elsa was taking her medicine while I was down in the kitchen. She's totally high on cough syrup right now. I just hug her back and try to come down from my own high at hearing her say she loves me. Sort of. She probably doesn't even mean it like that. But she said I'm her snowflake. That's been her nickname for me for years, snowflake I mean (and I call her the Ice Queen), but she's never said it quite like that before.

And then Elsa sneezes and I swear by all that is good and chocolate-filled in this world, she even sneezes beautifully.

I can't help but smile again as she falls asleep in my arms. I'm probably going to get sick, since she just sneezed on me, but I don't even care. I'm in love. I must be, because no one sneezes beautifully unless you're totally enamored with them. Right? Normally I'd ask Elsa for advice, but, well, yeah. I guess I'm just going to have to wing it. I'll wait to tell her. I've got until the summer, because she won't be home for spring break, so that's like five whole months to plan. I'll be ready. I was born ready to love Elsa. It… it'll be okay. I lean my head on hers and try to sleep, too, before I give myself a headache. I'm her snowflake and she's my queen. It has to be okay.