"Thanks so much for helping out!" gushes Sandy, the director of…something. Elsa's not really sure what, only that she's running this charity running event and could possibly be the boss of Belle's boss's boss. Or something. It's easier to just think of her as Sandy.
"It's no problem," Elsa says, hauling a cooler filled with ice and water over to the refreshment stand.
"Elsa, didn't know you were serious about coming," Belle chirps unexpectedly from behind her.
"Uh, well, yes. I signed up, didn't I?"
"Should've known. You always liked your commitments."
Elsa shrugs. "I guess so."
In truth, she was never much of a "difference maker." She'd give a few dollars to the awareness fund or maybe leave old clothes with the Salvation Army, but she'd never really had any inclination to be "involved" before. But after telling Meg she needed space, it seemed like a good idea to create some, to immerse herself in something beyond the walls of their cramped living quarters.
Thus, she finds herself as a volunteer handing out water bottles to participants in a city-sponsored 4K 4 Cure race. On the whole the people are amiable and pleasant, if a smidge too enthusiastic for Elsa's taste. She can't quite crush the cynic in her or the image of streams of credulous money pouring into the pockets of pharmaceutical corporations. And the fact that there is no real "cancer cure." And the hopelessness of those afflicted by diseases not so broadly-advertised, doomed to suffer in the shadows of a sightless society.
Yeah, Elsa needs some sunlight.
Belle and the other volunteers are practically vibrating with pat-on-the-shoulder praise for the runners that cross the finish line, which Elsa has a hard time emulating. She offers a smile and a bottle of water for each of them though, and even if she isn't gushing, she really does admire their attempt at altruism.
One of the sweaty, crimson faces that appears before seems vaguely familiar.
"Hey, you're Elsa, right?"
Startled, she does a double-take. Red hair. Freckles. Blue Eyes. Goofy smile.
"Anna?"
"Yeah! You remember me?"
Before Elsa can slip up and confess, "Of course," Anna is chattering about how great it is to see her here, and does she need a hand with those bottles, and maybe they can grab dinner together after because her brother is busy and she's still trying to meet new people here in town.
"Sure," Elsa says, feeling completely overwhelmed. "Yeah, sure."
Meg likes Anna. That much is obvious. Elsa hears her on the phone, spinning out long excuses for why they should get together, but not for a date-date, and just to hang out. She remembers what it was like to be the target of Meg's affections: a marble statue of Venus step down from its pedestal, kneel, and kiss her fingers before a crowd of astonished tourists. Disconcertingly flattering. Surreal.
What can one do but surrender?
Anna comes to their apartment a lot. Elsa watches movies with them, because apparently Anna is reluctant come over if it's just her and Meg in case Meg gets the wrong idea. Meg wants to ease her into the idea of a more romantic relationship. Anna says she's glad they're friends. Elsa is relieved Rapunzel's there to shoulder the brunt of Meg's preoccupation with all things Anna: her mysterious childhood in Canada, an analysis of her taste in clothes, what her favorite breakfast food might be. Rapunzel simply rolls her eyes and listens patiently.
It's a little eerie watching her ex fall for someone else. Is that how Meg was when she started dating Elsa?
Nevertheless when Anna asks, "Aren't you going to watch the movie with us?", Elsa forgets how weird it is to sit with Meg on a couch in their living room. Or maybe she doesn't really forget, she just doesn't want to look like a downer in front of Anna.
So she says, "I'll be there," and sits on the far side of the sofa with Anna's thigh pressed up against her own.
Somewhere along the line, she and Meg start to relax around each other again. They actually still make decent friends. Maybe they don't have earthshattering heart-to-hearts, but it doesn't feel quite so raw anymore when Meg jokes about the organization of Elsa's bedside table. They have funny, memorable conversations about everything, most of which end in playful banter instead of detonation. They've even started to acknowledge the throbbing tumor of their failed relationship, to cut around it, and to cast it out.
So perhaps it's a little strange Elsa neglects to mention that she and Anna have breakfast alone on Saturdays at a café near Anna's apartment. And that Anna likes her eggs sunny side up.
Anna knows how to fix toasters and vacuum cleaners. She knows where nearest grocery store with millet grains is. She can fix computers— hell, she can build computers. She can talk about anything, literally anything, for hours at a time. Elsa sits and absorbs it all, the too bright smiles, the burbling words, the tears when she talks about how her mother just died from pancreatic cancer and she moved to the city to be closer to her brother.
The growing dampness against her shoulder, the desperation in the way Anna grasps her shirt makes Elsa feel stronger than she's felt in forever.
It's bizarre because Anna actually seems to think she's interesting and fun, like she thinks Elsa has a real personality. Elsa's so used to being "the quiet one" and "the serious one" and "the boring one," she can't help but smile back a little too broadly whenever Anna snorts uncontrollably at one of her sardonic comments. She finds herself doing silly things, spinning Anna's salad plate at restaurants, untying Anna's sneakers when they sit down next to each other on a bench, merely to get Anna to cock her head and ask, "What are you doing?"
Elsa wants to curl up against that lopsided smile.
"Did you want to go see that new movie?"
"What? What movie?"
"The one where they're all in space."
"Oh, that one. No, I wasn't really planning on seeing it. Why?"
"Do you want to go to it? This Saturday. With me."
"Great. Around seven?"
"Yeah… Elsa?
"Yes?"
"Did you just ask me out?"
"Um…"
"I mean. Oh god, I didn't mean to assume. You were just being all twitchy, and I wasn't sure why–"
"I think so."
"Oh. Good."
"…I was being twitchy?"
"In a good way!"
Aurora had slept quite contentedly leaning against Elsa's walls. Meg took a wrecking ball to them. Anna…Elsa can't quite figure out what Anna's tactics are. She sort of just…talks?
Like she patiently shouts greetings across the boundaries Elsa has drawn between them, and inexorably Elsa finds herself shouting back.
Or maybe she's like a hunter, luring the ferret out from its den. She makes herself so enticing that Elsa can't resist. But that doesn't feel quite right either, because everything Anna does is colored by an earnestness which refutes all trickery.
It could be Anna's a ghost who passes through the locked ironclad gates of Elsa's fortress as though it doesn't exist, because she lives on some metaphysical level where the gates are actually a construct for Elsa's self-doubt and really—
Yes. Elsa is definitely overthinking this problem. She can't help it. It's all so gradual and all so sudden. Like she's been wading out into a lake, only planning on cooling off her feet a little, but instead she finds herself neck-deep in the murky lagoon, drenched, treading water, and utterly in love and kissing—kissing Anna on her couch, which feels like the loveliest thing she's ever done.
That simile fell apart fast.
Chest heaving, Anna pulls away for a second and asks whether they should slow down.
Perhaps it's not Anna at all. Perhaps it's Elsa herself, cautiously prying open the doors a little, peering outside and beckoning Anna to come closer as she wordlessly surges forwards and joins their lips together again.
She saw this coming.
It was bound to happen eventually. But for some reason, Elsa figured she could put this appointment off for a few more weeks.
Well, it's been a few weeks more.
She meant to discuss it with Anna, but they were both so idiotically happy to see each other's faces, it seemed like a huge mistake to be her normal pessimistic, plan-ahead self. Just now it's become exceedingly clear what an exceedingly enormous mistake that was.
Jerking, Elsa resists the urge to rub her right cheek where a few seconds ago Anna planted a kiss before disappearing into the kitchen. She'll only draw more attention to herself if she does, and there's no point. Not when the real burn comes from the piercing of Meg's violet eyes through her temple.
Luckily, Anna bursts back through the door with a large, blazing birthday cake (did she really manage to fit 25 candles on that thing?) and every conversation in the room disintegrates into a boisterous, if somewhat discordant rendition of Happy Birthday.
Elsa sighs in relief to know that she's put off this conversation for at least a few hours more.
"I thought you weren't looking for anything," Meg demands as soon as Kristoff's car pulls out from the driveway and Anna returns to her kitchen table.
"What?" the girl asks, blindsided. Elsa definitely should have had this discussion earlier. At first, she thought there might be a chance that Meg wouldn't start this cage match until they'd gone back to their apartment, that she might spare Anna the inquisition on her birthday of all nights. No such luck. Meg was not one to take rejection lightly or quietly.
"You said you weren't looking for anything," Meg repeats bitterly. Her syllables stretch a few milliseconds too long, and Elsa realizes with a sinking dread that Meg is drunk. "But you've spent all night making googly-eyes at Frosty."
The venom in her voice scorches on its way out. Rapunzel coughs and begins to make distracting noises.
"I wasn't looking for anything," Anna insists defensively. "Elsa and I just started seeing each other…a little." Beseechingly, she glances at Elsa. Help me out here. But Elsa is rigid and frozen. "I'm sorry if you're hurt—"
"I'm not hurt," Meg snaps in a way that confirms just how hurt she is. Her normally supple limbs twist in on themselves as she hunches her shoulders and glowers. "I hope you like being Frosty's rebound," she adds bitingly.
"Meg," Rapunzel admonishes, tossing Anna an apologetic glance.
"She's not my rebound," Elsa mutters. She meant to announce it boldly, heroically. Instead, no one hears her.
"I like Elsa," Anna states firmly. "I didn't mean to hurt—"
"I'm fine," Meg growls. Taking charge, Rapunzel grabs Meg by one lean bicep and drags her towards the door. She reaches up to cover Meg's mouth too, but the furious woman simply swats her hand away. "I just don't see why you'd go to all that trouble to convince me you weren't interested in dating anybody—"
"I wasn't interested in dating you," Anna explodes. "I'm sorry. I just didn't think we'd work out very well." Her directness flabbergasts the room. Rapunzel heaves the door open.
For a split second, Meg flinches. Maybe, almost flinches. But she swings back. "So you thought somehow it would be better with Elsa? How long do you think you'll last before Frosty freezes you out?"
"What?"
But then Elsa's cousin and ex are out the door, and it's just her and Anna left in the apartment, sinking in into the silence of a freshly departed mêlée.
"Do you want to stay here tonight?"
"Yes. Thank you."
Anna gives her a look that says she's being weirdly polite, but Elsa too feels stuffed up with discomfort to do anything about it.
"Are you alright? I wouldn't worry too much about Meg. I think she's just a little hurt is all."
"Yeah," Elsa mumbles, turning away and resting her hands on the kitchen counter. For seconds she leans there, breathing and staring at the laminate countertop. She notices an old stain. Tomato sauce probably.
"Elsa?" She ignores the concern in Anna's voice, ignores Anna's appearance at her side and her hand against her back. "You don't seem alright."
Elsa scrubs at the dried stain with a taut finger. "I'm fine. I'm fine." She grits her teeth, ready to deny it over and over again until Anna throws her hands up and stalks out. But Anna doesn't push. Anna leans her head into Elsa's shoulder, palms smoothing Elsa's trembling arms.
They stay there, two sticks in the mud, for what feels like years.
"We dated. Meg and I. For about a year. Maybe a little more. It was…rough towards the end."
"Oh," Anna say cryptically. "Oh."
Elsa doesn't know what to do with Anna's shocked, defeated voice.
"This had better not be some messed up revenge-plot-love-triangle-drama thing! Seriously, Elsa, could you not have dated anyone else?" Rapunzel whisper-explodes the moment Elsa cracks the door open.
Elsa blinks dumbly back at her. It's five in the morning. Unable to sleep all night, she'd left Anna drooling all over her red pillowcase with the sole intent of not having to interact with anyone for the rest of the day. She would sneak in, brush her teeth, grab her laptop, and sequester herself in the deepest corner of the nearest coffee shop. Have a peaceful day. Pretend there wasn't a hurricane brewing in the distance.
Really, what is there to talk about anyways?
She and Anna are dating. She and Meg are no longer dating. End of story. Period. Fin.
Not according to Rapunzel, who glares at her—or tries to despite the yawn which threatens to engulf her. "What were you thinking, Elsa?"
"I-just-" I wanted to be happy. And I knew it would hurt Meg, but I didn't care. And it felt great to be chosen, for someone to like me better than her. God, that felt wonderful. Maybe I wanted to hurt her. But can't you just let me have this? "It's none of your business," Elsa finally grits out. She can feel herself folding in at the edges.
"God, Elsa, you're just so cold sometimes. It's like you don't care at all—"
"I don't. I don't care about Meg's feelings," the toxicity of her anger surprises even herself. Better to spit it out than keep it in any longer. "I hate her. I hate being near her. I hate living here. And you always take her side, like it's all my fault for not-not—I don't even know what you want me to do, but whatever it is, clearly I'm not doing it right!"
"Can you not think about yourself for a few minutes?" Rapunzel hisses. "You get so wrapped up in your own suffering, you block out any chance to be happy, or for anyone else to be happy."
"I'm trying to be happy, but apparently I can't even do that without screwing it up!" Elated to at last release the condensed frustration and helplessness in her chest, Elsa stalks forward, accentuating her slight height advantage.
Rapunzel refuses to back down, stretching onto her toes until her face pushes against Elsa's.
"Cut the crap, Els. Can't you at least be grateful—"
"I have nothing to be grateful for," she snarls. The voice in her head whispers, Liar, but Elsa brushes it aside.
She spends the rest of the day searching through apartment listings.
Anna pokes her eggs pensively with her fork.
"We're over," Elsa says in agitation.
Sighing heavily, Anna puts her fork down and stares out the window, as though the idea of meeting Elsa's eyes is unbearable. "You keep saying that, but—"
"Because you keep sighing like you don't believe me," Elsa interrupts. It feels like a ball of snakes is unraveling within the confines of her torso. Her knuckles whiten against her the glass.
"I know," Anna sighs again and finally, finally looks over at Elsa for half a second. "I know you're not lying to me, but…maybe you just don't realize that you still have feelings for her."
Stunned, Elsa can't even fathom using English language to explain just how wrong Anna is.
"There's always this tension between you two, and I don't know, I figured you had a fight or something, or I thought maybe you like me and were a little jealous, but now…like I talked with Rapunzel about it, and it all makes sense."
"No," Elsa says numbly. "No. That's not what it's like at all."
"Then what is it like, Elsa?" The tone of Anna's voice borders on exasperated, accusatory. "Because I wake up, and you're gone. I try to get closer, but you're always holding something back."
"I just. I'm not that kind of person. And I don't have feelings for Meg. The tension's just us angry at each other. It doesn't mean anything," Elsa babbles helplessly. "Anna…"
She can already see from the closed sorrow on Anna's face that it's hopeless.
Elsa is supposed to be packing.
It looks like she's packing, sort of, with her clothes tossed all over the floor, except Elsa never has her clothes all over the floor. Even when she flew to Belgium that once, she laid everything out neatly on the bed, sorted into crisp piles based on sleeve length and thickness. Belle has a guest room she can escape to until she signs the lease on a new place. All Elsa has to do is collect her stuff and leave.
Instead she's spent the last two hours ripping things off hangers and throwing them to the floor. It fucking pisses her off because cloth doesn't make much of a noise as it settles to the ground. And that's when the books went flying off the desk.
It's all such a fucking mess.
"Elsa?! What the hell is this about you leaving? Why aren't you answering your phone? Are you even in here—Elsa!" Rapunzel shoves her way into the room, cursing as one of Elsa's blouses bunches up beneath the door. "Geez, what the hell happened…here?" Her voice trails off. "Elsa?"
From her spot curled up under the covers, Elsa gazes limply back at Rapunzel's stunned face. A detached part of her is ashamed to have lost control so thoroughly, for allowing herself to sink into such a self-indulgent tantrum, but mostly, she's too drained to feel anything.
"Nothing."
"Did you set off a bomb in here?" Rapunzel stumbles through the debris until she's by the edge of Elsa's bed, eyeing her listless cousin.
"It's fine." The covers are pulled into a tighter cocoon.
"Clearly. That's why you're going fetal at 5 in the afternoon." A weight sinks into the mattress. Elsa's fingers dig into the sheets beneath her to keep from slipping.
"Well, you should be delighted." God, Elsa doesn't even have the energy to sound bitter anymore.
A long sigh. "Yeah, watching you act all comatose is my favorite thing to do." Rapunzel shifts until her side rests against Elsa's back. She starts to pull away, but her cousin won't have it. A hand descends on her shoulder. "C'mon, Elsa. Just tell me what's wrong."
With a long shuddering breath, Elsa intones flatly, "You should go."
"Open up, Elsa," her cousin cajoles. "I'm here for you."
But Elsa isn't having any of it. Since when has Rapunzel been on her side? Since when has Elsa ever opened up?
It's nearly midnight when Elsa finally emerges from her room. She'd left her phone on the kitchen counter before she sequestered herself in her bedroom. 5 missed calls from Belle. 2 from Rapunzel. Enough texts to write a novel with. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she'll put herself together again, apologize to Belle and figure out what to do next. Maybe look at a few apartments downtown. The kitchen is dark and comforting. She perches herself in one of the barstools, elbows on the counter, head cradled in one palm, losing herself in the mindless task of refreshing her email.
Suddenly the phone buzzes in her fingers, startling Elsa. She nearly drops it. Then she looks at the screen and does drop it at the glow of Anna's name on the screen. She waits and watches for a full minute until the buzzing stops and the number of missed calls increases by one. Exhaling painfully, Elsa reaches down to pick up the phone from the floor.
The door swings open. Meg shuffles in with a disgruntled sigh, throwing her coat onto the couch and kicking off her heels.
"Elsa?"
Elsa grunts something that could be interpreted as either a greeting or a poor pig imitation.
"I was…out," Meg offers by way of conversation starter.
Unwaveringly uninterested, Elsa merely grunts again and slides off the stool. She gathers her dignity and prepares to advance backwards into the bedroom.
"I was at Anna's."
Elsa stiffens, wonders if that had anything to do with Anna's unexpected phone call. She wants to ask for more information, but she's too proud to ask or even pause for more than a split second.
Fingers dig into Elsa's upper arm. With an irate jerk, she yanks herself free.
"For God's sake, just stop. Just look at me for a second, Elsa."
She practically snarls back, "What for?" before turning away again.
"Look, I get it!" Meg breaks out. "We were terrible for each other. We basically were the crappiest couple in existence. I know I hurt you, without even meaning it most of the time. And trust me, being with you was pretty painful too."
"Thanks for the PSA," Elsa replies caustically. "Aren't you lucky to have Anna now? It must be so much less painful now." She has to swallow a sob after she says that, because, God, it's probably true.
"I'm not trying to start a fight. Jesus Christ, Elsa, why am I always the bad guy to you?"
Elsa doesn't really have a good answer for that question. On an intellectual level, she knows why. Everything Meg says, everything Meg does is knotted into the disaster of their abortive relationship. When Meg smirks and calls her "Frosty", it's no longer the companionable teasing of an insistent friend, but an incessant jab in the ribs that she'd tried so hard to hold Meg's attention and failed. Each time Meg walks through the front door late at night, Elsa has to bite back the cutting, "Where have you been?" and remember that it's none of her business anymore. If Meg has too much fun at a gathering, all Elsa can think of is how it felt to sit on the sidelines and watch her girlfriend beam at pretty people with wide smiles.
But none of that sounds right to say out loud.
"Are you planning on avoiding eye contact with me for the rest of our lives?"
"No," Elsa snaps, the same way she used to respond to her mother's nagging attempts to get her to go out more often as a teenager.
"Then, look at me. It's like talking to a statue," Meg complains.
At that, Elsa flinches visibly and takes another step away. She needs space. She needs to get out of this goddamn apartment. Out of this city where everything hurts to look at, if at all possible. Away from Meg. Away from Rapunzel. Away from Anna.
"I'm sorry," Meg says. It's so familiar. Elsa can't really remember the last time Meg apologized for anything, not since the early days of friendship. When they were dating, apologies had been brushed aside with, "Don't worry, love means never having to say you're sorry," leaving Elsa frustrated with Meg's flippancy and guilty for her own grudges. "Sorry," Meg repeats, as though worried Elsa didn't hear her.
Maybe for the first time in over a year, she turns to meet Meg's gaze. Shockingly, person she sees there is slight and unremarkable. Certainly pretty, but far from the nearly mythical figure of Elsa's memories. She's neither vindictively beautiful nor shamelessly cruel. She's Meg, the girl Rapunzel's college roommate. The girl who could never be shot down or turned away. The girl who made Elsa blush until it almost hurt. The girl Elsa fell in love with once—she must have, or it wouldn't hurt so much now. Not a monster, not an ex, just an old friend.
And in the spirit of friendship, Elsa apologizes too.
"Call her," Meg instructs the next morning, between steady gulps of black coffee. "She likes you."
"Maybe," Elsa says. "It doesn't really matter. She needs someone who can tell her she's great and beautiful and loved every day. That's not really me. I wouldn't know how to be that person."
Rolling her eyes, Meg snorts, "Anna doesn't need a replacement mother. She's looking for a girlfriend—"
"A girlfriend who's actually warm and loving," Elsa interrupts. "Who can say the things she needs to hear."
"—a girlfriend who can say something and mean it," Meg corrects. "I could do that. You could do it too."
"Physically maybe. But I don't." Elsa's fingers retreat into her sleeves.
"We all know you're not warm and fuzzy, Elsa. You don't gush and praise and dote. But when you say something, you mean it. Everybody sees it. I say something, and everybody knows it's bullshit. But if you told Anna you liked her, loved her even, she couldn't not believe it."
"Hmm," Elsa hums noncommittally, trying to hide how pleased she is with Meg's little speech.
Another snort. "You're blushing, Fr—" Meg stops herself, looking apologetic.
"You can say it. I don't mind."
"Maybe."
Elsa opens her mouth to reassure her that it's really okay when her phone starts ringing.
It's Anna.
"Pick it up. Whatever happens, it can't be any worse than dating me, right?" Meg smiles wryly.
"You weren't so bad."
Maybe it's a bit of a lie. Maybe it's actually true. Either way it loosens the air between them.
"Pick up the phone already," Meg demands as she scoops her coffee mug up into her hands and rises. "Good luck," she says, leaving Elsa with the kitchen and her jingling phone.
Heart bobbling in her throat, Elsa answers it. "Anna?"
"Wait, so what do you do?"
"Right now, I'm a martial arts instructor at the rec center. Thinking about going on my own."
"That's great." Anna grins, nudging Elsa in the ribs with a not-so-subtle elbow.
With a long-suffering sigh, Elsa grabs Anna's pistoning arm and wraps it around her waist, ignoring the melodramatic pout drooping across her girlfriend's face.
"You two are really…cute together," the girl they're talking with remarks.
"I've been told," Elsa comments dryly. Her mask of gracious tolerance falls apart completely when Anna's fingers start jabbing at her side. Voice rising by an octave and a half, she squawks, "Anna!"
"Yes, dear?" Anna smirks.
Before Elsa can lose any more dignity, Belle rustles up to them in her extensive white gown.
"I see you two have met Kida. Thank you all so much for coming." Her face practically radiates joy and excitement.
"Where's the groom?" Kida asks.
"He just went—oh there he is." The women turn to see Adam waving wildly at his bride from across the room. "I'll be right back," Belle tells them distractedly before running off to meet him.
"She's not coming back," Kida observes with amusement.
Having recovered her sense of decorum, Elsa returns to the task at hand with great composure. "So, Kida, what's your personal policy on alcohol consumption?"
"Um, excuse me?" Kida blinks in confusion.
"Elsa!" Anna hisses. "You sound like government spy. Stop it or you'll scare her away."
"I guess I enjoy a few drinks now and then…" Kida interrupts sheepishly.
"Excellent!" Anna chirps. "Do you like music?"
"…yes?" Kida ventures.
"Fantastic. One of our friends is performing at Beat Street next Friday. You should totally come!"
Internally, Elsa cringes, certain that they've scared Kida off for good. Externally, she reaches an arm around Anna, in preparation for the inevitable "excuse me, I have to run away now." She hates seeing Anna disappointed, even if the redhead is so difficult to disappoint.
"Oh, really?" Kida perks up. "I know someone who goes there a lot. I heard it's pretty good."
Suddenly, they're both babbling away, and Anna's slipping in all this extra info about "their friend", and Elsa can only manage to nod encouragingly. By the time they part ways, Kida is completely sold on meeting them at Beat Street to see Meg perform. She and Anna exchange money.
"Well, that went well," Anna says cheerfully.
"We don't know if she's even gay," Elsa groans as she slides her phone out.
"Elsa. She was wearing a rainbow necklace. To a wedding. She's gay. And she's basically perfect for Meg."
"We barely know anything about her," Elsa insists, mostly for the sake of argument. She's already pulled up her text conversations.
"Quit being such a stinker. Hurry up and tell her already."
"So demanding."
"So slow," Anna gripes theatrically, head dangling over Elsa's shoulder. "You're lucky your serious face is so cute."
Elsa flushes. You're performing at Beat Street next Friday, she finally types.
…why? comes the response.
No reason, but I would dress nicely.
Immediately, the reply flies in, What did you two do?! You're at a fucking wedding. Don't you ever take a break!
Never.
I hate you.
You love me.
Maybe, is all Meg will admit.
"Give me that!" Anna says, snatching the phone from Elsa's hands.
You'd better not love her more than me -Anna
Touché.
"No one had better love you more than me," Elsa mock grumbles.
"Don't ever worry about that."
"I won't."
The middle of this chapter was like pulling teeth, but I'm pleased with the ending. Thank god I'm done. I'll be working on Leave it Be again in my free time. Hopefully that gets wrapped up soon.
Anyways thanks for reading.
