Spread out all of their old things on the bed, and take a moment to sift through it all. Figure out exactly what needs to stay and what needs to go. Pack the worthwhile things away into boxes, and toss the rest in big black trash bags. Most of it stays; most of it is a keepsake that can never be replaced, because it's a part of them. Her mother kept a diary, in the top right corner of her dressed, with her socks. Her father had a watch that his great grandfather had also once worn. An old leather-bound bible sits on the bookshelf with a well weathered spine and pages that have grown frayed over time. It all stays. The garbage bag only fills up halfway, but she goes through more boxes than she cares to make a note of.

Elsa has been trying to do this for a while, ever since after the funeral when the life insurance was paid and the will was read. It's been three weeks, and with Anna back in school their house feels massive and empty – although – it always felt that way to her. They need to move out, she and her sister. The house is theirs now, their parents owned it in full, but with only two people it's a monumental waste of space. She hasn't told Anna yet, that they'll be moving.

Anna's not stupid. Elsa thinks. She knows we need to leave. She'll be okay. She'll move in with me. Elsa doesn't want to consider the alternative that Anna might have other plans. They were always well off in her family, and now with the life insurance and the will each of them – especially Anna – has more money than they know what to do with. Elsa doesn't want to make the bitter note that she was more or less entirely removed from the will, her father's doing, probably. Anna is doing better though, she's allowed Elsa to return to her own bed most nights, and she does her best to hide the crying. Every time Elsa hears the sounds of soft, muffled tears coming in through the bathroom she still goes in though and wraps her arms around her sister. An entirely selfish action.

By the time Anna gets back from school Elsa has more or less turned her parent's room into a ghost town. She couldn't move any of the heavier furniture out into the garage, but the room is clearly empty. She hears her sister plod up the stairs.

"I'm in here, Anna!" Elsa calls from the room, where she's labeling and taping the boxes. Anna appears in the doorway, her backpack in her right hand. Her too big sweater hangs limply off her shoulder. She surveys the scene with the sort of eyes that seem older now than they did a month ago. Finally, she looks sadly at her sister.

"You did it." She says it simply. Elsa looks around as if she's only just now realizing what she's been up to all day. She nods and looks at the boxes.

"Yeah, this is it." Elsa and Anna both look at the boxes. Their parents entire being condensed down into some boxes, packed away and eventually forgotten. Anna sniffles and Elsa reflexively looks at her sister like a bomb is about to go off. Anna shakes her head and wipes a stray tear from her eye.

"I'm fine." She holds out her hand to keep away her sister, who stands up anyway. Elsa crosses the short distance in a few steps and puts her hands on Anna's shoulders. She thinks of the kiss the night before her parents died. She wonders if Anna has any awareness of it at all. Of any of the feelings that she has. The two girls stare at each other for a brief moment, Anna looking up and managing a barebones smile, stripped of all of her typical frivolity. "So you…really didn't like mom and dad, huh?" Elsa freezes, feeling like she's just wondered into a mine field. Anna looks at her with the same sad smile. It's not an accusation – Elsa realizes – it's statement of fact. Anna isn't stupid, she must have noticed everything that happened, even before my birthday.

"I loved them, I just…" Elsa trails off.

"Didn't like them?" Anna finishes, tentatively. Elsa, still with her hands on Anna's shoulders, her right hand on hot, smooth skin, nods. "Can you tell me about it?" Anna asks, looking down and away like she's embarrassed to be asking. Elsa swallows hard. Her sister's hair is in its typical two braids, but loose strands hang around her face, and a desire to make her happy aches in Elsa.

"Sit down." And they both do. Anna sits on the now bare mattress, her back to the wall and her legs crossed under her. Elsa does the same, only facing her sister, their knees just touching. Elsa runs her hands through her hair the way that she does, her fingers dragging through the thick nearly white hair. She sighs and shifts, swallows and then starts.

"So…I guess…" Anna stares at her big sister, doing her best to be quiet. "Uhm…so dad found out I was gay – a few years ago – I guess, and he…" Elsa groans loudly, and Anna jumps a bit. "Sorry. I just don't know what to say really."

"It was when you had Merida over, yeah?" Anna says it as if it should be obvious, and Elsa's face goes scarlet all at once. "I knew about that. She was half naked in the kitchen." Elsa's scarlet face became even more so – if that were even possible.

"Well he walked in on us." Elsa says, dipping into a rhythm. "And he freaked out, but I begged him not to tell you, and so he didn't, but once mom found out they sort of…cut me out." She stops, looking at her sister, who stares back at her without much expression on her face. "Anna, do you really want to hear all this now? Mom and dad were cruel to me, but I still loved them very much."

"You haven't cried." Anna says. Elsa freezes, and thinks about it for a moment.

"No. I haven't." Elsa runs her hands through her hair again and looks at the boxes, they're almost all labeled now, with only a few left blank and untaped. Anna also looks at the boxes, but she doesn't move herself towards them.

"Sorry." She mumbles. Still she stays on the bed with her sister. A long, uncomfortable silence passes between them, the sort of silence that hangs in the air like a thick cloud. "If they treated you so badly, why did you stay?" To be with you.

"I didn't want to leave you." I couldn't do that to myself. I need you. Anna looks at her sister a little sadly, with a smile almost creasing her lips, but not quite, like she's trying to keep it off of her face. The silence returns to the room, but it's comfortable this time. Eventually, the two girls finish the work with the boxes and move them all downstairs. Anna departs to do homework, and Elsa watches her bob into the room and close the door – just leaving a tiny crack of light.

This is insane. You either need to tell her or move out – this is killing you. Elsa is downstairs in the kitchen, some hours later, making bacon, chocolate chip pancakes, hash browns, and (decaf) coffee, Anna's favorite meal that can be rightfully called that – otherwise, chocolate cake would take that spot. This is ridiculous. Anna's sitting at the counter, watching Elsa cook. Elsa is at the stove, watching Anna in the reflection of the microwave.

"Are you burning those?" Anna asks with a giggle. Elsa quickly remove the bacon with her bare fingers – stupidly – and looks at her sister with a mark of satisfaction.

"Not at all." Anna's legs are crossed at the counter, her shorts not doing much at all to cover up. Elsa's been staring transfixed for the best part of an hour, nearly burning everything that she's got on the stove. Finally – and with minimal damages she finishes. They eat with the comfortable sort of silence that accompanies delicious food. The sort of silence punctuated by forks scraping plates and the occasional quiet moan of satisfaction. Elsa sat happily next to her sister, eating in more measured bites, but still just as happily. Anna's phone buzzes after a minute, and with a groan she looks at the screen, and her fork – hanging over her plate – halts.

"Who is it?" Elsa prods. "Is it for me? I bet it is." Anna smiles at her – a joke they used to make when they were younger, that everyone who tried to contact either of them was only looking for the other. However, where normally they would carry it on, Anna groaned and swiped her phone open, taking only the time to delete the message. "What is it?" Elsa asks.

"Kristoff." She says with the sort of tone that someone who had just discovered a spider in their boot might use. Elsa didn't have to ask about who this person was. Anna had only ever had two boyfriends, each in rapid succession: Hans, a boy who had used her for sex and then dropped her, where a boy named Kristoff picked her up. The problem with him though was on the other end of the spectrum; he was trying so hard, and refused to allow Anna space. Anna groans, and Elsa stifles a laugh and swallows her drops of jealousy.

"Sorry." She keeps smiling, just a little bit. Anna groans and leans over, laying her head on her sister's shoulder. Elsa's fork shakes a bit in her fingers, but she does her best to keep her head cool.

"Why can't I just throw my phone away?" She groans and throws her hand over her eyes with a dramatic flourish. "We could get all old and gnarly together!" As Anna says it she twists around quickly and is on her knees in her chair, her hands on Elsa's wrist. Elsa's brain buzzes, aching like an overheating engine. She can feel the gears in her head turning hard, grinding against each other. Probably shouldn't.

"Run away with me, Anna!" Elsa says, not playing along, but sounding convincingly like she might be. Anna smiles and her blue eyes look far away. Elsa's brain goes from barely working to working in overdrive. The lights in the kitchen get brighter and more poisonous, she can taste the smoke in the kitchen, she can hear the heat outside, and feel the gentle hum of the old machinery of the house.

"Happily." Elsa swallows hard, like she's trying to struggle down every feeling inside of her. Definitely shouldn't. Elsa feels the weight of something old and terrible, the sort of feeling that drives people to do stupid things. She feels the sort of trapped that can only be felt by people who badly want to kiss a person. She wonders how long she's been staring at Anna; the curves and angles of her, the way her collar bones tuck into her, the way her neck moves, the way her cheeks dimple when she smiles, the freckles on her cheeks. A twisting sensation goes in Elsa's stomach. This is a really bad idea.

Elsa leans in, slowly, and kisses her sister. For a moment – just for a moment – it could be mistaken for something else. She kisses Anna awkwardly, starting and stopping, like a traffic jam. The moves are jerky, and the responses are even more stunted. Anna puts her hands in Elsa's lap, and she moves her lips with Elsa's, but in contradictory motions, like they're two thirteen year-olds having their first kiss in the back of a school dance. Elsa pulls away and swallows everything in her.

Anna looks at her with wide eyes, a thousand different emotions fluttering through her eyes. Dark things leap up in Elsa; fear, resentment, anger, self-hate, but even worse than any of that – a mad love, and a desire to do it all again, only better. Tears well up in Anna's eyes, but they're quiet, and reserved. She looks down, her right fingers brushing her lips. Elsa steps down from the counter and mumbles something. Anna makes a grab for her sister, but Elsa pulls away with a jerk. Her walk turns into a run and she's out the door.

She's in the car and she's out of the driveway and down the street. She's driving so fast that she runs two stop signs. Her brakes squeal in protest, her tires smoked. She stops in the dead center of a deserted street and stares at the steering wheel. She can taste chocolate, and Anna, on her lips.

What are you doing?

What in the hell are you doing?

"What are you doing?" She screams it, so loud that the windows shake.

A.N. Thank you for the reviews, for the nice things you say, and for the follows and favorites. I appreciate it very much.

-AT