Disclaimer: I own none of the things but the idea for the story and the writing of it. Characters and stuff are Disney's.
A/N: This is the third and final part. Thank you everyone who has read and reviewed. I appreciate and love each and every one of you. Sorry if any of this seems rushed or there are major typos but I wrote it straight through and have not proofed it as well as I should, but I wanted to get it posted for the holiday. Thank you for coming along on this ride with me! All the best.
Sleep came to him as a heavy weight that dragged him down into a blissful, dreamless oblivion. It was a leisurely sleep that he was not rushed to leave. The combination of his body waging war against the sickness and the drugs he had taken did not hurt either. He slid through deeper levels of consciousness than he could ever remember visiting.
He certainly hadn't slept this well since before his first deployment.
And while he still would never subscribe to kismet, or karma, or whatever the hell you called the balance of the universe he knew that there would be a balancing when he woke.
Perhaps that is why he fought that dreamy, hazy place between sleeping and waking so valiantly. The first brushes of it felt like feathers tickling their way into his mind.
First came discomfort.
His right arm was asleep, numb and tingling. His throat, while better, was dry. His head, while no longer aching, felt full and sloppy. He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, but he was not too hot or too cold any more. Whatever fever that had held him had broken in the night and he knew when he woke he would be eager to wash the evidence of sickness from his skin.
Second came novelty.
He was acutely aware of the greater amount of space on his mattress. For efficiency sake he normally kept it in the couch position and slept in its curve, but that curve was gone. Instead, in its place, there were entirely different curves. These curves had weight and depth and warmth. He did not name the curve in his mind as he knew the moment he did this strange dream would be over but instead registered this other shape only as It.
Third came autonomy.
It moved on its own from him. It breathed and sighed into the curve of his neck. It had curled and threaded itself between his legs, into his arms, with startling efficiency. It was soft. It was small. It smelled distinctly of honeysuckle.
The moment that yanked him irrevocably from that strange between was when It gave a soft, unmistakeable nuzzle beneath his jaw.
The sensation of it, of it gentle and warm and trusting, was lightning bolts through his system. In so many situations he would have welcomed it, have embraced the chance to feel something like that again, but not this one. It was not his feeling to have. It was not his to hold.
Her lips grazed his pulse point and he could not roll away quickly enough.
It took a bit of effort to disentangle their limbs, the wrap of blankets and sheets around them, but he made quick work of it. He had to. It was either that or cross a line he knew he couldn't. Not here, not now, not in the sane light of day that spilled in through his window.
He turned so he sat on the edge of the mattress. He could not bring himself to look at her, to address the confused look that had to be on her face because she should not be confused as to why he pulled away. He should have not even had to pull away. She should have not been sleeping there in the first place.
Anger, red hot and explosive, boiled up in his chest.
He never should have let this happen. He never should have allowed that moment of weakness that had kept her close. Now there was damage. He had caused damage and that was his inheritance to her. Damage was all he would leave her.
"I think you should go." He croaked.
His water glass sat empty on the ground by his feet. He could go fill it, but he did not trust his legs to stand.
She shifted on the futon. He felt it, heard it, and it was killing him not to see it. He wanted to see it. He wanted to see the desolate wake of his thoughtlessness in the form of her sleep crumpled self.
"Oh." She said and he could hear the surprise in her tone. He hated that surprise. She had no right to it. What had she thought would happen? There was nothing for them in the waking world. There was no safehold for the dreamscape they had built in lieu of reality.
He clenched his fists between his knees.
"I need to shower."
"Yeah. Of course. I have to - I have stuff I have to do, too." She said, but she did not move.
He could feel Bruce staring.
"Yeah. Okay." He grabbed his glass. If he was going to have to endure any more of this, he may as well pass out trying to get a drink of water. "Thanks for the soup and stuff. I'll see you Monday."
He padded over to his kitchen sink. He could feel the hurt radiating from her every pore but he would not acknowledge it. He would not claim it. It was her hurt. He had his own to swallow.
He turned on the tap and kept it running until after he heard the door shut behind her.
….
After his shower he felt almost human.
Whatever hold the sickness had on him had loosened considerably and he felt fairly certain that after a cup of coffee and a little food he would be ready to face the day. He went to his little kitchen, absolutely not looking at the futon still spread flat from the night before, and pulled out his coffee maker. He measured, filled, and started the small pot.
He watched it drip.
Anything was better than turning around and seeing that bed.
He'd need to wash his bedding now. Not because she had been in it, but because of his fever. He had sweat through the sheets and he only had the one set. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he was not sure that he could stand smelling even the slightest trace of her when he tried to sleep.
Nope.
No how.
No way.
He was about to pour himself a cup when he heard three, sad, tentative knocks on his door.
He knew who it was without even checking the peephole. Only she could knock with so much personality.
He clenched his jaw. It had only been eight minutes since she'd left. He was tempted to pretend he was not home, but he was not going to hide. He'd done the right thing sending her on her way and he'd do it again now. He went to the door and cracked it open.
There she was.
He realized at that moment that he had not really gotten a good look at her that morning. He'd been in such a hurry to get her out the door that he'd entirely missed how rumpled and creased and adorable she looked. It made him want to scoop her up and throw her back under the covers. It made him want to join her there. It made him want.
"What's up?" His arms crossed his chest
"I think I left my keys in there." She was red from head to toe, from embarrassment or anger or the ability to read his thoughts he did not know. "Could I come in and look?"
He held the door open for her and she stepped inside. He had the thought to just leave his front door open until she left so she wouldn't get any ideas about staying, but decided against it. He did, however, try to be as uninterested as possible as she searched his tiny apartment.
"Have you seen them anywhere?" She asked as she walked past him to look behind the cans on the counter.
He shook his head. "Nope."
"Well - could you help me look?" She asked as got down on all fours to survey the ground.
He coughed into his sleeve and considered playing the sick card, but the sooner they found her keys the sooner she was out of there and the sooner he could have some peace and quiet to try and forget any of this ever happened. He did a quick scan of the room, trying to avoid looking at the bed, but that was difficult to do when it took up half of the space.
She was scouring the place on her hands and knees, red hair tangled and streaming around her shoulders, and he should help her. She had asked him to help her, but he couldn't move. He stood there by the door stoic and stupid as she dove head first beneath his futon. He watched her wriggle her way under like a snake. The shake of her hips, the undulation of her thighs, was more than a little distracting.
She was almost completely lost beneath the mattress when he heard her victory cry.
"Ha! Found them." She started wriggling back out, sweater riding up over her thighs, her butt - he looked away.
He didn't see her pop out from underneath. He didn't see that she had more than just her keys in her small hands. He didn't dare look at her until she spoke.
"What are these?"
She held two flat metal ovals attached to a long chain between her fingers.. His heart seized in his chest. She ran her fingers over the inscription. He took two steps towards her in futile effort to stop her investigation.
"Bjorgman, Kristoff J. O Neg. No preference." She read before he had a chance to snatch them out of her hands. She looked up at him with wide, curious eyes. Her brow furrowed in disbelief. "Kristoff. Are these - uh - did you - when?"
He wanted to deny it. He wanted to tell her they were fake, but maybe it was better this way. This way she would know the truth about him and she could go. She could drift away and he would understand. There was no way she could understand what he had done, what he had seen. He wouldn't want her to.
"I served five years." Was all he said.
She looked back at the tags, then at him. "Were you - did you fight?"
"Yes." He watched for her expression to change, to darken is disapproval, but it never did. It stayed open, watchful, curious.
"Did you ever get hurt?" Her voice quivered and his throat felt tight.
"A few times."
"Where?"
It was like he was powerless against the question. His body moved without his prompting. He pulled up the leg of his pants to show the mangled scar wrapping his right calf.
"Shrapnel." He watched her eyes move over the mutilated flesh. "A friend of mine tripped an IED and some of it caught me." She reached out one hand like she wanted to trace the damage with soft, cool fingertips, and he dropped the leg of his pants and straightened. There was no way in hell - "It could have been a lot worse. I got off lucky."
She looked up at his face, neck craning back to see his face from where she sat. "And your friend?"
He saw the hope in her eyes in the same place that he also saw the knowledge that the answer to that question was inherently unhopeful. His heart tightened. He wanted a different story to tell her. He didn't want to tell her this, he didn't want to tell her any of this, but he wouldn't lie.
"He wasn't so lucky."
She pressed her lips together and nodded her head in understanding. Her hands clenched white knuckled fists around his dog tags. He could hear the apology in the air before she even spoke it. He could taste it, but he did not want it. He did not want her pity.
"It was war. People die in wars." His voice had a bite to it, a challenge, but he didn't know what he was daring her to do.
"Did you ever - Kristoff -" her eyes were so wide, so sad. "Did you have to kill people?"
Her question exploded in his chest as the room shrank around him. He remembered the fear in the eyes of the first man he'd shot at point blank range. He had not been trained for that. He had been trained to take out targets, hostiles, but no one had ever taught him that those he would kill might not want to die. He had done it anyway. He could still see each face.
It was difficult to breathe.
"I did." He nodded and her face turned down towards where she clutched his dogtags in her lap with a sniffle.
Was she crying? He didn't know what to do if she was crying. Was he so awful that he drove her to tears? Was she afraid of him? He did not know how to bear up under the idea that she may be afraid of him. He did not know how to bear up under any of this.
She met his gaze after a long pause, her eyes and cheeks wet.
"I can't even imagine how horrible that must have been for you." Her voice shook around each syllable and he felt those tremors run through him.
A realization broke loose in the internal earthquake she sent through him with her tears. She wasn't crying from fear or anger or judgement, she was crying from pain - his pain. She was crying over pain she had never felt. She was crying for friends she had never lost. She was crying for memories she would never have.
He wanted to take it back. He wanted to stop her tears. He wanted to wrap her in himself and protect her from his pain but he could not. He could not protect her from it any more that he could protect himself.
He could not hold her. He could not comfort her. He did not know how to bear this pain. He could not show her how. He did not trust himself to not break her with his touch.
He stepped towards her and bent. He grabbed the chain of his dogtags, careful not to touch any part of her, and pulled them from her hands. He stood and cradled the metal in his palm. He could still feel the heat of where she had gripped them. He stepped back and slipped them into his pocket.
"Yeah. Well. They say 'war is hell' for a reason." He watched as she stood, eyes still wet, and this was hell too.
"Were you ever going to tell me?" She looked at him as if his choice to keep the secret hurt more than the secret itself.
"It's not something I thought you'd want to know."
She looked at him with disbelief so complete that he felt like an idiot for ever saying those words, for ever thinking that thought.
"When are you going to figure out that I want to know everything about you." She said, which was horrifying enough.
But then, as if to add insult to injury he found that he believed her and that terrified him. He needed something to do besides stand there and have her look at him like she cared or else he may do something really stupid. Like kiss her.
"Well," he remembered his coffee, turned, and went back over to the counter. "Now you do."
He took a mug from the sink and poured the dark liquid into it. It was steaming hot. He took a sip anyway and focused on the way it scalded all the way down. That still did not compare to the burning he felt in his chest every time he looked at her. He stared at the wall and tried to not hold his breath.
"Okay. Well." He heard her jangle her keys, the confusion. "See you Monday."
"Yep. See you Monday." It was deja vu all over again.
He heard the door open and then close. He exhaled what felt like a thousand breaths and looked back out over his room. His gaze landed on Bruce. The small plant judged him in silence.
"Right." Kristoff took another burning swallow. "Like you would have handled that any better."
….
He went to work even though he was not completely up to snuff. Anything was better than being in that apartment that did nothing but remind him of all the ways he had failed on every level with Anna Belle. Olaf was waiting for him looking particularly matted.
"You're never going to get adopted looking like that." Kristoff muttered and grabbed a brush.
He went into Olaf's kennel and braced himself for the inevitable affection. Between the licks and wiggles Kristoff managed to get a fair amount of the tangles out of his furry friend's coat.
"There." He patted the fluff on the top of his head. "Now you look downright respectable."
Olaf smiled at him.
….
His advisor had signed him up for the spring semester of classes. When he had agreed to that arrangement the June before it had seemed like a no-brainer. The advisor knew what classes he wanted and since he was still in all of his core curriculum and none of his major coursework it was easy enough.
Still the registration email came a surprise.
It was stupid to get upset. He knew that. He didn't know what he had expected. It wasn't like he and Anna Belle were going to sit down and pick out all the same courses together again. It wasn't like Sven and the compadres were going to always be available for Frisbee Thursday. It wasn't like he should have expected things to stay the same in the strange, suspended bubble of reality that they had since August but he realized now that on some level he had expected just that.
It was the beginning of November but he was quickly realizing that this entire strange schedule he shared with Sven and Anna Belle would soon change. Everything would change. Everything was already changing and he knew he had to be ready for that but he wasn't sure how.
….
She came up alongside him on Monday and walked with him to class in silence. She walked closer than normal, her sleeve brushing his, and all of his words caught in his throat. He wasn't prepared for this. He would never be prepared for her.
He lived, he realized then, between the perpetual need for December to come and the eternal dread that it would. Each and every day he sat in class with Anna Belle and her red hair and her sassy mouth was a new kind of torture. He couldn't tolerate her, couldn't live without her.
He remembered the shape of her tucked into him that one stolen night. He had held the weight of her in his arms and he wanted - wanted - oh what did it matter what he wanted? She was unattainable. She was with Hans who was surely better for her in every respect. Kristoff knew enough of him to know he had money, had prestige, and he had Anna. and what could he offer her in return that could compete with that? An unstable future with no promise beyond him potentially breaking down at any second of every day into a pile of worthless human timebomb. That was what.
If she had to pick between a worthless piece of shit that could at least provide her with a stable income or a worthless piece of shit that could provide her with nothing - she may as well go with the money.
….
When they made it into Psych they split without a word.
Sven gave Kristoff an all knowing look.
"Nothing happened." Kristoff muttered as he sat down.
Sven leaned in and kept his voice low. "Anybody ever tell you that you're a shit liar?"
….
They were walking towards the library for Study Session Wednesday though they hadn't spoken since she left his apartment that awkward Saturday.
His nose was still clogged, but he was better. The soup and medicine were still on his counter top. He should return those to her now that he didn't need them anymore, but he didn't want to. Somehow having that soup and that medicine was like having part of her with him when he went home each night.
"You know," she spoke into their silence and he felt the rupture like an explosion of light in his mind. "You always call me 'Anna Belle' but you can just call me 'Anna'. 'Belle' is my last name. You don't have to say it."
He knew this. He knew it was her first and last name, but that was how her notebook had introduced her to him and that was how he thought of her.
"What if I don't want to?" He tried something as close to teasing as he ever had with her, feeling strangely giddy to be back on speaking terms, and she looked at him with an unexpected glint in her eye.
"Then I get to call you Christopher."
"But that's not my name. At least Anna Belle is your name."
"That's the rub when it comes to nicknames. They are kind of like friends." She shrugged. "You don't always get to pick them, Christopher."
He felt a funny little piece break loose at that word. Friend. They were friends - or at least until the end of the semester they were friends. That was all they were. That was all they ever would be, and it was better that way for everyone.
He knew better than to get attached and yet here he was walking alongside a girl he could never have, tethered to her in a way he would never be able to understand.
He spent the rest of the evening trying to find a way to break the invisible bond that ran between them, but he never did.
….
Thursday Frisbee had a muted appeal that week. He enjoyed the opportunity to get out and move his body, but the weather was turning. The wind cut instead of caressed, the sun no longer wrapped them in warmth as it shone down on the green (which was turning rather brown). Everything was dying. Everything was ending. He felt that change within himself.
Sven noticed it too. After a particularly botched catch, he came over to where Kristoff stood bent at the waist with his hands on his knees.
"You chill, bro?" Sven didn't touch him, knew not to.
With anyone else, Kristoff would have lied, but with Sven he just shook his head.
"No, bro. I am not chill."
….
He was angry and getting angrier each time he realized how upset he was. He did not want to be upset. He did not want to care. All he wanted was to go to college, to try to make something of himself the way his Ma had always encouraged him to do.
He had done this for her and now he couldn't even face her. He didn't know if he ever could. Let her think he was overseas fighting. It was better that way.
Anna Belle had been unexpected. Sven had been equally, but uniquely, so. He hadn't known he could get so attached. He hadn't known that part of him still existed and now that he had found it he wished it had died back in the field. He was sick of loss. He was sick of people leaving and things changing and he didn't know how to deal with this anymore. He never did in the first place.
That night when he was doing dishes in his sink he broke a plate. It was the plate he had served apple slices to drunk Anna months ago. The ceramic edges were sharp and he cut himself on accident fishing for them in the soapy water.
He would never know for certain if the break had been an accident or on purpose, but either way he knew that when he looked at the broken pieces stacked on his counter he somehow understood how they felt.
….
It was the second to last Lift and Chill Sunday before the semester ended except Kristoff had forgotten to bring the chill. Every muscle of his body shook by the time he collapsed on Sven's couch, soda in hand.
Sven looked at him from across the room. A frown line etched in his broad forehead as he watched Kristoff chug his entire drink and then crush the can in his fist.
"You're trippin', bro."
That was all Sven said. It was all he needed to. The words pulled the pin out of the grenade in his chest and let it loose all the anger that had building for weeks, months, years.
"I can't keep doing this." Kristoff said, squeezing the can even harder and he felt it cut into his palm. "Maybe I tried to transition back too quickly but I can't keep pretending like I am like everyone else."
"Then don't." Sven came over and extended a fresh soda towards him. Kristoff dropped the crushed can and took the new one with shaking hands. "Nobody gets to tell you how to be anything anymore, bro. You are up to you, now."
Kristoff wanted to take the can and throw it against the wall and watch it explode. He wanted to rip open his own chest and squeeze his heart till it stopped beating. He wanted to do anything and everything he could to make this unstoppable ache disappear and Sven was not helping. He stood.
"Look. I gotta go." He held the soda back towards Sven. "I'll see you Monday."
When Sven did not take the soda he did not wait for him to change his mind. He stepped past the hulking man. Or at least he tried to. Sven's hand on his chest stopped him. Kristoff glared at him.
"What?" He challenged. He wasn't sure, but he was pretty sure Sven could beat him in a fight. Something in his chest wanted to test that theory.
"Military is real good at telling people what to be, and how to be it." Sven's voice was fast and low, his big eyes more focused than Kristoff remembered seeing. "They take kids and make them parts of a machine which works just fine when they are it, but bro - we aren't part of that machine anymore and once we aren't they could give two shits about what happens to us."
"So we're just old parts. We don't have a purpose." Kristoff pushed Sven's hand away, but does not leave. "We're just some busted junk waiting for trash day."
"No bro, no." Sven came around in front of him. "You just gotta find a new machine to be a part of."
In some regards Kristoff could appreciate Sven's metaphor, but in most regards it just made him want to punch him in the face. Or maybe that was just what he wanted to do anyway. He'd felt punchy a lot as of late.
Kristoff snorted. "Yeah. Like your stoner machine?"
Sven did not even flinch. "Yeah I'm the guy who likes weed. I'm also the guy who likes frisbee and football and Latina girls, but I know that. I am good with that. I've made my peace. Who are you, bro?"
Kristoff clenched his jaw and Sven stepped back like he could sense that Kristoff was looking for a fight. Words had never worked so great for him, but his fists had never failed him. Sven knew that. Sven knew too much and it made Kristoff feel vulnerable and that was not a feeling Kristoff liked having. Kristoff hated how well Sven knew him, how easy it was for him to call him bluff.
Sven seemed to sense that Kristoff's patience for this conversation was waning, so before it ended he threw in one last good verbal right-hook. "Be the guy who likes cars or the guy who likes pizza or the guy who likes those dancing shows on TV. Be whatever you want, but be something other than part of their machine, cuz when the night gets dark you are going to need something to remind yourself why you're hanging on."
Kristoff put the can of soda on the floor and walked out.
….
The next morning in Psych Sven gave Kristoff a heads up.
Kristoff ignored him.
….
"We need you to take Olaf for the holiday." It was his boss, Oaken, from behind the front desk at the kennel. "We're over max capacity for boarding and we need the space."
Kristoff liked his boss. Oaken was easygoing, jovial, and fair (for the most part) but this was unexpected.
"I can't just take Olaf." The idea of being solely responsible for the animal's well being made him sweat, plus he had finals to worry about. "I have stuff to do."
"You've already said you aren't traveling for the holidays."
"Well - I'm not."
"And that you plan to work your normal shifts?"
"Yeah, but -"
"We will provide his food, a bed, whatever you need and you will get paid time off to take him, okay? Go visit family. Take a road trip. Just take the mutt." Oaken's wide, moustached face twisted into a hopeful smile.
"This is highway robbery."
"So you'll do it?"
"Seriously. This has to be against some code."
"All you have to do it sign here to authorize the foster arrangement and you know where the food is."
"I should report you."
Oaken made a worried face, but he was clearly unconcerned. "Oh no. That's no good. I'm afraid I am going to have to kick you and the little mutt out until after Christmas."
"You are a tyrant." Kristoff reached for the clipboard and papers. "Where do I sign?"
….
He dumped the bag of food and supplies on the floor by the door and bent to remove Olaf's leash. No sooner had he unclipped the metal fastening than Olaf bolted straight to his gunsafe and propped himself on his two back legs. His one remaining front leg barely made it to the top of the shelf, but he hooked onto it with tail wagging in pure delight.
"Bruce." Kristoff said as he shrugged out of his coat. "Meet our new roommate, Olaf."
….
Anna sat across from him at the table in the library, but she wasn't studying her books. She was studying him. It was distracting.
He cast her an irritated glance. "What?"
She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.
"You don't have a corner on being damaged, you know."
He frowned. "What?"
"Damage. You aren't the only one who has it.'
"I know that."
"Did you also know that while you carry it around like a shield it feels way more like a sword on this end?"
He didn't have a reply for that.
She uncrossed her arms and flipped open her textbook. "Just think about that, will you?"
….
He brought Olaf to the last Frisbee Thursday and tied his leash to a tree.
"Damn he's ugly." Sven said.
"Yeah. Kinda like your mom." Kristoff said and Sven hit his shoulder just enough to hurt but not enough to do any damage.
"Whatever, bro. Let's throw."
….
He wouldn't say he was less angry, but he was used to functioning at this level of anger now. It thrummed around in his veins like a constant reminder that this was who he was now. He wasn't the guy who liked pizza or the guy who liked cars. He was the guy who was angry about everything. He was the guy who hated everyone and everything, but even that wasn't entire true because he didn't hate her.
No. He didn't hate her at all and he wondered just at what point he became the guy who was hopelessly in love with her and just what exactly he should do with that.
….
She was waiting outside of their Chem Lecture and Lab class after they completed their final. It was their last final before break and she had finished before he had, but she had waited. She'd never waited for him after a test, and she always finished before he did. He knew, however, this was different.
She knew it, too.
"How'd you do?" She held onto the straps of her backpack like they were lifelines.
"Probably not as well as you."
She laughed. He loved that sound.
"I'm sure you did great."
He shrugged.
"So I guess this is it." She fiddled with her straps. "Our twin schedule weirdness is finally at an end."
He stuffed his hands in his pockets, uncertain what to do with her acknowledging the same thing that had been plaguing him for a month.
"Yeah. I guess so."
She smiled. "It's been fun!"
He had to smile in return. "Yeah. It's been something."
He rocked onto his toes and she looked behind her as another finisher exited the classroom.
"So I've never asked you what you're doing for break?" She asked, trying to prolong what he already knew was a dying conversation.
"Staying around here. You?"
She shrugged. "I have a trip with my boyfriend, but I'll be back on Christmas eve to see my sister."
The mention of Hans, though oblique, tainted the conversation and left a bitter taste in his mouth. Kristoff had hated a lot of people in his short life, but no one near as much as he hated this Hans.
He thought of shields. He thought of swords.
"That sounds nice." He tried to make it sound genuine, but there was a bite to his voice.
"Are you seeing family for the holidays at least?" She changed the subject, as uncomfortable with it as he was.
He shook his head. "Nah."
"Are they too far?"
"No, they aren't too far. Just up in Geyser Springs," He said.
"Then you should just drive up." She said. "No one should be alone at Christmastime."
"Yeah…" He agreed, but he did not know how to tell her that sometimes the most crowded room could feel the emptiest. "But I don't have a car and I don't want anyone to feel like they have to drive all the way down to get me so I'm just staying here. It is fine. I've got Olaf and I'm going to carry him on some long walks so it will be fine."
She looked at him then, really looked at him, not with her usual frenetic energy but with a calculated stillness that left him uncomfortable.
"You haven't told them." She said as realization swept her every feature. "Kristoff. Your family doesn't know you're back, do they?"
He felt his ears catch on fire with guilt, but also indignation. Who was she to judge him? She had never known him before. She hadn't ever met his family. She could not know what it would mean for him to go home, to face them knowing what he had done. They were the salt of the earth and he - well - wasn't. He was the guy who was a total mess.
"Christopher." She said, head tilted to the side. "You have to go home."
And he knew she was right. The longer he stayed away the worse it would be to return, the less understanding anyone would be, but the idea still terrified him.
"Yeah. Well. I still don't have a car."
A light sparked in her eyes.
"I don't leave till tomorrow." She said as a smile split her face. "Go home and pack. I'll pick you up in half an hour."
….
His nerves grew with each ticking mile on the odometer. It was just over an hour drive from campus to his parent's home, but it felt darkening world whizzed by the window, all of it so familiar, but it seemed to stretch and grow into entire continents.
Anna seemed to pick up on his edginess and kept her foot on the gas. She turned the radio up and chattered about the previous semester to fill the tense air. Olaf dozed contentedly on Kristoff's lap.
He did not want to do this. He did not want to go, but somehow when Anna had suggested it he just couldn't turn her down. He had jumped at the chance to spend more time with her, a few more stolen moments before everything changed.
He looked at her as she sat beside him. He watched how her hands moved on and off the wheel when she talked and how she took her eyes off the road far too much to be considered safe. He watched the way her hair moved and her lips moved and the shape her tongue made curling around different sounds. She sang in the car, belting along to some of her favorite songs, and he liked her voice. It was melodic and soothing and he wondered what it would be like to hear her sing a lullaby.
He watched as passing streetlamps and oncoming traffic illuminated her eyes, caught the broad lines of her cheekbones, and he smiled. She was beautiful to him - so bright and alive - and in that moment he knew he would never stop loving her. He would never stop being the guy that was in love with her. That was who he was and he knew that this would be his last chance to do anything about it.
….
It was a modest home styled to look like a log cabin tucked into the the craggy hills of the western mountains surrounding Arendelle. It had a large wrap-around deck that was already strung with Christmas lights and a long driveway lined with evergreens. It had been five years since he had seen any of it and the trees had grown in that time. The shutters were painted a new, vibrant forest green and the basketball backboard mounted above the garage had finally lost its net.
Anna parked behind his pa's old truck and looked at him.
"You ready?"
He nodded 'yes', but meant 'no'.
"You can do this. You're the strongest person I know." She said and he gave her a grim smile.
"You've got to get better friends."
"I don't need better friends. I've got you."
She reached across the console and put her hand just above his knee. His mouth went dry. His eyes shot down to where her hand lay. It looked so small and pale against the dark denim and he wondered if she had any idea the affect that her smallest touch had on him.
He thought of returning her touch, of putting his hand on top of hers. He thought of turning in his seat and tasting her mouth. He thought of a lot of things. He did not do any of them. He couldn't. The idea of touching her with his hands that had done so much evil, had broken so many lives, made him cringe.
How could he ever consider a girl like her being interested in a guy like him?
The car shrunk around him. It was too small, too hot, and the pressure was crushing him. He had to get out. He had to get out now.
He popped off his safety belt and opened the door. Olaf jumped out ahead of him.
The air was crisp and cold against his skin. He took a deep breath and then another and closed his eyes.
There was no snow yet, but there would be soon. He could smell it. He could smell the wood smoke from the fireplace his Pa had built his Ma. He could smell honeysuckle, but he knew that was not his mother's bush. It wasn't the right season for that.
It was her. She had come around the car and stood beside him, brow knitted with worry.
"Did I upset you? I didn't mean to upset you, but I did. Didn't I? I did that thing my sister is always telling me not to. Don't push, Anna. She always says that because I always push. I always try to get people to do things they aren't ready to do."
"No." He tried to calm his pounding heart. "It wasn't you." He clenched his fists at his side and exhaled.
She touched his sleeve and he couldn't take it. He paced forward a few steps and then turned to face her. She watched him with eyes that said she was certain she had hurt him, like she had done something wrong, like she had done anything other than be wonderful. He couldn't let her think that.
So he said: "Sometimes I freak out."
The words hung between them as Olaf sniffed the ground by his feet. Her expression shifted to something much more quizzical.
"What?" Her hands grabbed her hips and he scrambled to explain.
"Sometimes I'll hear something or see something or think something and it is like I'm still fighting." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "And then I freak out."
Understanding dawned on her face. "Like right now." She said and he nodded. "And the pencil thing."
He let out a choked laugh because he knew she was not mentioning the night they had shared a bed on purpose.
"Yeah. Like the pencil thing."
"Are you still freaking out now?"
He looked at her, at the house, and thought of the moments to come - the moments that had come before.
"Yeah. A little."
She stepped towards him as if to hug him and he jumped out of reach. They had never hugged before and he knew that if they started now he would never let her go. She blinked, bewildered at his evasion. A motion-activated flood light cast a hard light on her soft face.
He felt sweat on the back of his neck. "Sometimes touching makes it worse."
She held her hands up in mock surrender and made a face. "Got it. No touchy the Christopher."
He was going to think of something else to say. He was going to be clever and charm her and make himself seem at least somewhat appealing instead of a total basket case but they were interrupted by a stout man with skin like chocolate. His hair was whiter than the last time Kristoff has seen it, but his skin looked as smooth as ever. The older man waved a flashlight in hand.
"You kids lost?" The light shone on Anna first, Kristoff's back was to him but he would know that voice anywhere.
His eyes went to Anna's, wide and afraid. She gave him a small smile and he knew it was time. He turned and met the eyes of the man that raised him.
'No Pa. I think I'm just where I need to be."
….
Joyous was an understatement to the reception that he received at that old house. After the initial surprise of his arrival his ma had dissolved into tears and then into her usual course of action of trying to stuff him with food. No one asked him why he had stayed away. No one judged him for needing time. They were all just happy to see him.
Ma had gotten on the phone the moment she had composed herself and called the entire family. They had all arrived within the hour with an assortment of sides and sweets and general merriment. There were so many of them now. He had missed so many weddings and births he felt like he would never catch up on names and news but then he looked at Anna and saw her laughing under the tree with one of his three young nephews and Olaf and his heart swelled.
He hadn't known his heart could do that, but it did. She had never once asked about why he wasn't the same as the rest of his family. He was sure she had put it together that this family had chose him not by birth, but it wasn't the kind of not asking that hung in the air. It was the kind of not asking that existed because she really didn't see a reason to ask. Anna just loved people as they were, not as she wanted them to be and somehow that made his heart swell even more.
So when his Ma came over, nudged him with her elbow, and said: "So this Anna, she's pretty special, huh?"
All Kristoff could say was: "Yeah. She is."
….
She had to go back to Arendelle. He knew she did. She had only given him a ride to insure that he would spend the holiday with family, but he wanted her to stay. He wanted her, but he didn't know how to do that.
He excused himself from his family to walk her back out to her car. It had started snowing as the evening had progressed. The world was dusted with the first flakes of the season and it made the world seem more magical somehow, more hopeful
He hadn't felt that kind of hope in a long time and he didn't think it had anything to do with the snow. It had to do with her.
His various relations had been careful to not park behind her as they knew each other's' vehicles and who to block in, but she was not one of them. She was new, she was different, but Kristoff didn't want her to be. He wanted to her to be known. He wanted her to have her own parking pecking order place. He wanted her to be part of his big crazy family. He wanted her to be his.
"Thanks for driving me up here." Kristoff said as they stood outside of her car. He kicked his toe in the fine layer of powder.
"Of course." She said with a smile that lit up the night. "Christmas is about spending time with the people you love."
He knew that, but it sounded so different coming from her.
"Yeah, but I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you." He said and he didn't just mean Geyser Springs. "So thanks."
She stepped forward, stood on her toes, and brushed a soft kiss on his cheek. His breath caught on the sweetness of the gesture, his entire body going rigid.
"Merry Christmas, Kristoff." She said as she pulled back.
She looked at his frozen stance, eyes growing worried. "Oh. Sorry. No touching. Right. Shoot. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have -" She dug for her keys in her purse.
Before he could stop himself, he reached out and grabbed her elbow. His grip was gentle but it rendered her paralyzed.
She looked at him. His gaze traveled from her eyes, to her mouth, then back to her eyes and he knew this was it. There were no more chances. If he was the guy who was in love with Anna, if that was who he wanted to be, then this was it.
"Why did you bring me up here?" He asked and she looked up at him. Her face was shadowed strangely from the the garage flood light catching glimmers of flakes as it fluttered around her. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
"I told you," her voice held the barest quaver. "No one should be alone at the holidays."
Snow stuck to her hair, the shoulders of her jacket. She was shivering, he assumed from the cold, but she was flushed. The thin skin of her neck, her cheeks, her ears was red.
"Is that it? Is that the only reason?" Kristoff asked and this was war. He was fighting every instinct within himself to stop while he was ahead so they could brush this aside like all of their other awkward moments, but he wouldn't. Not this time.
"Kristoff…."
She looked back down at her purse but made no moves to find her keys, to get away from him, but he felt her slipping away. She was standing right here but she was leaving him. Urgency bubbled up in his chest.
"I need to know what you want to be, Anna." He on a burst of air. The pronouncement hung between them and it was his turn to fill the silence.
Her eyes came back to his full of questions. "What does that even mean?"
"It means - I don't know. It means - well - it means that if you spend Christmas with the people you love then I want to spend Christmas with you. But not just as friends. I can't just be friends with you anymore. I want - uh - I want to know what you want." He stumbled through his swirling thoughts, heart pounding in his chest so hard he swore she heard it. "So tell me. I can take it, whatever it is, I can take it - but I can't just stand here knowing that I want you for another second unless I know what you want, too."
She looked at him like he had gone crazy and maybe he had. This was driving him crazy. She was driving him crazy. Her eyes were so wide, pupils blown out in the dim light of the driveway, and it was killing him.
He couldn't stand here anymore.
"Anna. You gotta say something or you gotta get in your car and drive away because if you don't," he could feel his entire body trembling in anticipation. "If you don't I am going to kiss you."
She gave a little gasp and it was like punch to the gut, but she didn't move. She stayed there in front of him in the glow of the porch light, and blinked as snow fell in her eyes.
"That's what I want." She said, voice quivering. "I want that."
She did not have to say it twice.
He grabbed her waist as he stepped into her, his other hand coming alongside her face to steady her, and covered her mouth with his. He hadn't realized how many times he had imagined this since that night she'd been drunk in his apartment. He hadn't known how many times his subconscious had entertained just how the shape of her would fit against him. All of his imaginings, his expectations, were shattered in the face of reality. It was more than anything he could have ever dreamt. She was more.
Her mouth moved under his, sweet and willing, and he forgot how to breathe. He forgot how to think. He forgot how to do anything but swallow her whole.
He hooked his arm around back and pulled her up against him, lifting her to her toes. Her hands slid up his chest, around his neck, and held onto him for balance. He felt the swell of her breasts press tighter to the wall of his chest with each uneven breath. He felt the tension in her spine as she arched into him. She was all he felt. She was his all.
He pulled away on a groan not because he did not want more of her but because he wanted too much. He wanted all of her but this was not the time, not the place.
"I want you to stay. I want you to stay here with me." Kristoff pressed his forehead against hers. "We don't have to figure it all out right now but all I know is I want you to stay."
He felt her clouded breath hitting his cheek and he wanted to look at her but he didn't trust himself to not fall back into her. Whatever thread of control that had held him away from her had been burned away entirely. He was hers.
"Kristoff." She said on a breath and pushed at his chest. He released her slowly, stepping back and letting his hands fall away until he stood before her utterly exposed.
She looked up at him. Behind her eyes was an ocean, dark and deep and fathomless. He wanted to drown in it.
"Kristoff I - I can't stay." She said it was a sucker punch to the gut.
'Why - why not?" The world fell out from beneath his feet and he staggered back a step.
"I have to -" she turned back to her purse to search for her keys and he was hemorrhaging. "I have to - oh - I have to -"
She pulled out the jangling set and he watched her with a pit growing where his stomach used to be. She unlocked her car, opened the door, and got inside. He stood there and watched, each part of him turning to ice. He didn't have any words left. She started the engine and rolled down the window. Her cheeks were still flushed from the cold, from the kiss that would haunt him until he died.
"I have to go. I'm sorry. I just - I have to go. I have to -" she shook her head. "Just trust me okay? This is what I want."
And with that she rolled up her window and drove away.
….
He stood outside for a long time watching the end of the driveway, willing her to come back, but she never did. He did not come back inside until his Ma came out to find him with a blanket and cup of hot cocoa.
"Come inside before you freeze to death." She said, barely tall enough to wrap the blanket around his broad shoulders, and he wished he could have.
It would have been less painful.
….
He was the guy with a broken heart.
He hadn't know he had enough heart to break, but apparently he did. Luckily with the hubbub of the holidays and the large size of his family he was never alone for long to wallow in his heartache. There were carols to be sung, and cookies to be made and frosted and taken to neighbors, and yule logs to be chopped. It was good to be surrounded with all of this and he knew he was also the guy with the crazy wonderful family.
If he was also going to be the guy with a broken heart, guy with the crazy wonderful family was not a bad alternate title.
….
It was at breakfast three mornings after Anna left that the conversation happened. Kristoff had just come in from walking Olaf through the snow and was frozen. Ma had a cup of coffee waiting on the table for him along with his favorite pancakes with chocolate chips baked into a smiley face.
"Don't you think I'm a little old for smiley pancakes?" He said even as he grinned to see it.
"You'll always be my baby." Ma said from her place at the kitchen sink where she watered Bruce. The response was familiar. He'd heard it since childhood.
She came and sat at the table with her own cup of coffee and looked at him with a warmth only a mother can.
"What?" He said around a mouthful of pancakes. "Do I have food on my face?"
Ma smiled. "Baby. If she can't see how wonderful you are, then she doesn't deserve you."
He nearly choked on his pancake. He grabbed his coffee and washed down the bite around a cough.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Ma just kept smiling her knowing smile. "Of course you don't, but if she wasn't ready for a little bit of a fixer upper then someone else will be. You've got good bones, Kristoff. Someone is going to see that and love you for it."
He looked down at his pancakes, appetite severely diminished, and frowned. "Wait. Did you just call me a 'fixer upper'?"
Ma just laughed and stood up from the table. She grabbed her coffee.
"Baby we are all fixer uppers. We just gotta find that one person who can envision us at our best without trying."
….
It had to be better this way. That was the only thing he could tell himself as he lay in his childhood bed unable to sleep. It had to be better that she had left. He wasn't ready for her. She wasn't ready for him. Something. Anything.
This is what I want. She had said. She had wanted to leave him and he had to respect that. He had to. He'd turned off his phone the moment she had pulled out of the driveway and now it lived at the bottom of his bag. He would not check it until he went back to school. He couldn't. He may call her, or text her or something embarrassing and he had already embarrassed himself enough.
He was the guy with a broken heart, but he was also the guy with some, albeit very little, self respect. He was not the guy who called girls at 3AM and begged.
Thought right then, laying in that bed unable to sleep, he wished he was.
He breathed deeply to keep the panic at bay.
….
It was Christmas Eve, one week after the night Anna left, and all the family was gathered in the living room for eggnog and the annual reading of A Christmas Carol. His adopted brothers and sisters, their spouses, and all of the children were draped over one another on every available seat of furniture and spilled over onto the floor. Olaf sat cozy on Ma's lap. Kristoff stood with his shoulder rammed into the doorjamb of the room, hands stuffed in his pockets.
That was why he was the one to hear the soft knock at the door. That was why he was the one to signal to Ma to stay put next to Pa and he would get it.
He went into the foyer and opened the door.
"Hi." It was Anna. "Can I come in?"
He'd lived this moment in his head ten thousand time in the last week. What would he do if she came back? How would he respond? His fantasies ranged from dramatic, to cruel, to romantic - but none of them had prepared him for the wave of dumbfounded shock that crushed him the moment he saw her.
He shook his head, trying to restart his system, and there was no way in hell she was coming inside with his whole family sitting there. He reached for the coat rack by the door and grabbed the first thing he got his hands on. He swung it over his shoulders (thankfully it fit), stepped out onto the porch, and shut the door.
His mind raced. "Wh - what are you doing here?"
He wanted to shake her till her teeth rattled. He wanted to squeeze her till her eyes popped out. He wanted to kiss her till she forgot her name.
"I'm here for Christmas." She said like he should have expected this, like she was confused at his confusion.
"But you left." He said, anger still sharp from that pain. "I asked you to stay and you left. You left."
"I know." Her face fell in remorse. "I handled that badly. I just - I was overwhelmed. I was the one that freaked out this time, okay? I had to - I was supposed to go on a trip the next day with Hans but my suitcase was back at my dorm. I couldn't just stay I had to - I had to go but I wanted to be with you. I told you that."
"No. You got in a car and said 'this is what I want'."
"This!" Anna gestured emphatically between them. "You and me and this is what I want. That is what I meant when I said that and if you had answered your darn phone you might have known that. You might have also known I was driving up here." She put her hands on her hips. "I didn't even know if you were still here but you weren't answering at your apartment so I drove up anyway. Do you know how embarrassing it would have been if you weren't here?"
"Yeah. I have an idea."
They stared at each other for several breaths, trying to cool their tempers.
Then he said: "You called?"
"Yeah. Every day. I even called you from the road after I left to try to explain or at least talk but it went straight to voicemail."
"I turned off my phone."
"And you didn't turn it back on?
"No."
"Well that was stupid."
He grinned, caught off guard by her bluntness and by the growing realization that she was here - that she had chosen him.
"Yeah. It was." There was just one more thing. "And Hans…?"
"He didn't take the news well which was one of the reasons it took me so long to get back up here, but we're done. It's over. I want to be with you."
He looked at her then - really looked at her - and it was like he was seeing her for the first time all over again. He was seeing her and she was his. She wanted to be his. She had driven up here because she had wanted to spend Christmas with him. All of the hurt and rejection melted in the wake of realizing that she wanted him.
He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and saw family members peeking through the window. "We've got an audience."
Anna waved.
"We could just go inside - "
"No. We can't."
"Kristoff - "
"No we can't because I am going to kiss you in a way that I don't want to have to explain to my nieces and nephews later so will you just stop fighting with me and just come over here."
He grabbed her elbow, the first time he had touched her since she had left, and he knew he would never let her go again. He took her down the porch. The snow crunched beneath their shoes as he led around to the side of the garage where there were no windows for prying eyes.
Once he was sure they were out of sight he turned to her to find her already stepping in towards him.
"So the no touching thing," she said as she wrapped her arms around him. "Is that rule gone now?"
He chuckled, but then turned serious. "I am damaged goods. I have more issues than I can count. You sure you want to take me on?"
"Everybody is damaged goods." She squeezed him, pressing her cheek against his chest and he had never imagined it could feel so good just to be held.
"Yeah. I know you say that, but I'm the real deal. I'm the kind of damaged they write books about."
"I love to read." She looked up at his face. "I was promised kissing if I came over here with you, not horror stories."
He couldn't help but smile at her. "I just want to be honest with you. I don't want to hurt you."
"I don't want to hurt you either."
He cupped her jaw in his hands. "Tell me what you do want."
"I want this. I want you." She lifted her chin.
He kissed her then because after all he was a guy who was in love with a girl and that was a good a thing to be as any.
[ el fin ]