notes: again, thank you for all your ridiculously wonderful words of support. i can't even express how thankful i am. also, i really enjoyed writing this chapter and i hope you guys enjoy reading it! this marks a major landmark/ turning point in the story. yay!
Sucker Love
- XIII -
Your mother is screaming at you before you've even gotten yourself fully through the front door, dragging your feet with tear streaks staining your cheeks and you feel so heavy, like the weight of the world is crushing you and it's stupid, but it's how you feel and you don't know how to stop.
"So help me, Anna Marie, I nearly had a heart attack when your father called me yesterday evening telling me you were nowhere to be found!" Her face is almost comically red, brown eyes bulging with her jaw clenched and you can't help but smirk a little when she turns away, hands coming to her head in disbelief.
"Look, Mom," you say calmly, straightening up and looking her dead in the eye. "I'm sorry. I just -"
"You just what, Anna?" she shrieks. "You just thought that your little games were more important than your own family knowing you were safe and sound?"
"Mom, I'm fine. I was just -"
She cuts you off again. "I called Kristoff because I thought maybe you were with him, only to find that you haven't spoken to him in weeks! So I knew that unless you were out partying, the only other person you could be out with is -"
"Elsa," you cut her off flatly. "I was with Elsa. She invited me to get ice cream with her and since it was late, she offered to let me stay at her house for the night." The little white lie slides off your tongue smoothly. You figure your mother wouldn't be too happy knowing you instigated nearly all of it, seeing how upset she is now.
"That's what I figured," she huffs, crossing her arms and shaking her head in something akin to disappointment and you just don't understand, because Elsa is sweet and smart and so, so lovely and how could spending time with her be a bad thing?
"What's your problem with Elsa, anyway?" you ask her, mirroring her pose and looking her dead in the eye. She shifts her gaze almost immediately, clearly uncomfortable with your question.
"I have absolutely no problem with Elsa," she says simply, tone wholly unconvincing. "My problem is with you. You are grounded, Anna Marie, which means you cannot be sneaking out to go anywhere with anybody. It's as simple as that. And if you're having trouble understanding that, then we are going to have a problem."
Your fists clench and unclench behind your back, anger flaring up inside your heart. "Fine."
You promptly stomp up the stairs to your room, slamming the door shut and flopping down onto your bed. Curling into a loose ball, you catch a whiff of something - clean and earthy, like rain.
Elsa. Your clothes smell like Elsa.
I won't let Elsa be hurt again.
I won't let Elsa be hurt again.
I won't let Elsa be hurt again.
Elsa's grandmother's words echo in your head over and over, bouncing and tumbling around inside your skull like they're clothes in a washer. They're the only things that keep your feet planted firmly on the green welcome mat after you knock tentatively on the familiar oak door.
It swings open seconds later, revealing a familiar face that usually would make your heart soar with affection but now sends your stomach dropping in fear, guilt consuming you the second you meet his gaze.
"So, Kristoff," you say tentatively, keeping your eyes lowered. "I need your help."
The look he gives you then in unlike any way he's ever stared at you before; cold and distant and more than a little hurt. You heart aches as you realize just how far away you've pushed him.
"With what?" he asks casually, before you can whimper out an I'm so sorry.
But this is important. More important than Kristoff's big dumb crush on you or your stupid feelings for simultaneously every person you meet and nobody. This is Elsa.
Taking a deep breath, you tell him, "I need your help finding out everything I possibly can about Elsa."
His expression darkens even further, but you catch a hint of a smile on his face as he steps back and says, "Come in, won't you?"
You step over the threshold awkwardly, the familiar air and scent of his home working their way into your awareness. You close your eyes, breathing in deep. The air outside was cold but inside Kristoff's house it's warm, smells of pumpkin spice and vanilla wafting throughout the foyer. His mother has always loved scented candles. It's kind of been your Christmas gift to her every single year for as long as you can remember.
"I've missed you," you say simply as you turn around and suddenly you're being pulled into a bone-crushing hug, face buried in Kristoff's chest and he smells like home and you almost want to cry but instead you just wrap your arms around him, feeling happier and more relieved than you have in ages and god, you've missed him.
He pulls away finally, grinning sheepishly. "I guess I've missed you, too." His expression hardens slightly, however, when he adds, "Never push me away like that again. Or at least not without some kind of explanation first, okay?"
You nod quickly, feeling tears of joy and relief spring to your eyes as you jump up to throw your hands around his neck, pressing your face into his shoulder. "Never," you whisper as you feel the rumble of laughter deep within his chest. "I promise."
"Now," he says in an authoritative voice as he sets you down lightly. "What can I help you with regarding your lady love?"
And with that he gives you the biggest, most shit-eating grin on earth and walks down the hall towards his room, leaving you standing there in the hall, mouth agape, completely floored because, well.
That little shit. He knows you too well.
From across the hallway, you spot Meg Egan and if looks could kill you'd be dead, dead, dead and in a garbage bag the trunk of her car by now. She's got dark, bruising circles under her narrowed eyes and a bandage across her nose.
You look away almost immediately, gaze dropping to your hands and for a split second you can still see her blood on your knuckles but it's gone in an instant just like your regret.
For Elsa, you think, being a delinquent is worth it.
Your grounding is finally over. Naturally, you go over to Elsa's. Not so much because you want to (well...you do want to, but that's beside the point) but because Kristoff basically forced you.
"Since when do you enjoy playing matchmaker?" you hiss at him as he opens the passenger side door as the car pulls up next to Elsa's apartment building.
"Since now," he deadpans, glaring back at you. "Now go."
"Fine," you grumble, making a show of kicking the ground and stomping over to the building when really all you want to do is sprint up those stairs and throw your arms around Elsa. Taking a long, deep breath and making brief eye contact with Kristoff, you knock sharply on the door and pray that it isn't Elsa's grandmother who answers the door.
"Elsa," you start nervously when she answers the door, biting your lip and kicking your foot, scuffing the sole of your new shoes. "You wouldn't really let some immature guy like Hans get you pregnant, right?"
There is a moment of silence before Elsa laughs, the sound soft and happy and amused, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you inside.
Elsa's room is cold. You shiver, pulling your sweater tighter around your shaking form. Fuck, how could you forget how goddamned cold it is in here?
Eyes glancing over to the closet, you spot the edge of canvases poking out from the door and frown, remembering the images you'd seen that night, the images that depicted Elsa alone, demons clawing at her back. An idea blooms in your mind.
I want to help you paint happier pictures, you want to say but the words get caught in your throat.
"Elsa," you say, your voice so quiet but so loud in the silence that you both jump a little, giggling when you meet each other's startled gaze. "Can I paint something? Like...for you?"
"Oh." Elsa blushes prettily, cheeks turning pink and she presses her hands to her face, desperately trying to hide it but she's so gorgeous like this - well, she's always gorgeous, really but especially like this, and before you realize what you're doing you're crossing the gap between you and her in two quick strides and covering her hands with yours, resting your thumbs on the sharp curves of her cheekbones.
You'd really like to kiss her. She's tall. She's so tall. You never realized how goddamned tall she is, because her constant shyness makes her seem so, so tiny, like you could carry her around in your pocket but the thing is she isn't; she's tall and slender and so, so gorgeous and you're touching her right now, she's real and she's here with you, pretty blue eyes locked with yours and your breathing is so, so loud you would be embarrassed but you're too busy just looking at her, eyes trailing down to her pert little nose and then to her lips, pursed in what you can only assume is uncertainty.
You really, really want to kiss her.
But you won't because she's gorgeous and you're both so, so afraid and also she's dating your brother and also she's like, a girl, which is, well. Not weird, but different in that you've never kissed a girl before. Actually, you've never kissed anyone since the fifth grade, at least while you were sober, though you can remember the parties, the blurred vision as you stumbled around and into the waiting arms of boys you'd never met, their hands sliding down your back, tongues hot and insistent, poking at you teeth and you just gritted them further, pulling back with stunned, confused tears in your eyes and lipgloss smeared across your cheeks, their hands still tugging at the hem of your shirt.
Kissing Elsa will be different, you think. Or, would be different, hypothetically, because you aren't going to kiss her.
But you're done pretending that you don't want to.
Naturally, your parents decide to go away.
Well, not so much go away as visit an old sick relative who you've never ever met and only know from pictures and a few phone calls over your many years. Anyway, it doesn't matter. They're leaving and you're no longer grounded, and that is what's important. Time to party it up. Ha.
"Well," Hans declares loudly as soon as you hear the garage door close and the car pull out of the driveway, "I'm going out tonight." He jams his hand in his pocket and pulls out a crumpled ten dollar bill. "Order yourself some pizza and invited one of your friends over or something. Have a good night, sport." He ruffles your hair and gives you a stupid, friendly wink before snatching his keys off the kitchen counter and heading out the door, already shouting something stupid and unintelligible into his phone to one of his friends.
You sigh longingly, curling into a little ball on the couch and feeling so lonely you think your heart might just shrivel up like a raisin or something.
You're jarred awake to the soft vibrating of your phone, somewhere buried beneath the blankets you've cocooned yourself in, just out of reach. You moan and grope around blindly for it before your fingers finally close around its cool surface and you bring the phone to your ear sharply, clumsily pressing the talk button.
"Hello?" you blurt out sleepily before turning your head away for a moment to yawn.
"Anna," comes a breathy giggle, directly into your ear and you jerk because you know that voice, that's Elsa's voice, that's Elsa's fucking voice and it's - you pause to check the time onscreen - 2:57 am.
It's 2:57 am and Elsa is calling you. Automatically expecting the worse, you stagger out of bed with the phone pressed to your ear, fumbling around blindly for your shoes.
"Elsa? Elsa, what happened? Is everything alright?" you gasp into the phone, yanking one of your sneakers out from under the couch.
Another giggle. "Anna, everything is fiiiiine. Stop worrying so much!"
You frown, falling back onto your rear with your worry quickly shifting to relief, then confusion. "Oh. Okay, um. Well then. Good. I'm really glad you're okay. No offense, but why are you calling me at this hour?"
"Guess where I am."
"Um." You fumble around for some half-assed answer, spine tingling because something isn't right about this.
"Nevermind. I'm outside your front door. Is that creepy? That's creepy, sorry," she laughs.
Without another word you're tossing the phone down and nearly throwing yourself off of the couch, hurtling towards the front door with speed that you can only assume rivals Usain Bolt.
She stumbles a little as she steps over the threshold and you instinctively reach out to steady her, one hand on her elbow with the other holding her waist firmly, and that's when you catch the scent of alcohol on her breath.
"Elsa," you breathe, stomach suddenly churning. "Are you drunk?"
Elsa just laughs, throwing her head back dramatically, blonde hair getting everywhere before she realizes where she is and what time it is and clamps a hand over her own mouth, eyes widening comically. "Sorry," she whispers loudly.
"You're drunk," you state flatly, heart sinking in your chest.
"Only a little," she retaliates in a whisper, looking more defensive and pouty than you've ever seen her and it's kind of extremely adorable but also worrisome because, well. Obviously.
You've only been drunk twice in your life, and you hated it both times. Hated the way the liquor made the whole room spin and your stomach feel like it was turning over and inside out, hated the boys grabbing at your waist and mostly you just hate how stupid it makes people, like how stupid it makes Hans. You've seen it before; him staggering around the morning after a party, clutching his head and moaning in despair before stumbling back into his room and sleeping till the next day.
Gripping Elsa's bony wrist in one of your hands tightly, you practically drag her up the stairs and into your bedroom, sitting her down on the edge of your bed and standing before her, arms crossed over your chest.
"So what happened?" you ask inquisitively, eyes narrowed.
"I, uh," she begins, jiggling her leg and fiddling with a strand of her hair. "Soooo. What?"
You let loose a long sigh of exasperation. "Why are you drunk?"
"Oh!" She nods enthusiastically. "I was, um. I was at a party, with Hans..." You wince as soon as his name is mentioned. Of course it was him. "And, uhm. I was with him but not really? Like he kept...he kept talking to all his football buddies and people I didn't...didn't know," she pauses to hiccup adorably, and your stern facade softens because god why is she so cute?
"Anyway," she tries again, seemingly struggling to come up with the words she needs to convey the story to you. "He kept dragging me around the place so he could talk to all his friends, and I knew a few people, like, I saw Belle there, you know Belle?" She doesn't wait for you to answer before continuing on. "But like...I know them but I don't think...I think maybe they don't like me. Maybe...maybe they know. Do you think they know, Anna?" Her eyes widen in horror and she squeaks.
"About what?" you ask quickly, rushing to her side, rubbing her back in a way that you can only hope is comforting. "About your...um...your ice...uh, powers?" You've never talked about them out loud before, not really. It's weird. "No, Elsa. I'm sure they have no idea. You're very good at hiding them, you know."
"I haven't always been, though," she says quietly, fiddling with her hands and gazing at you, hand coming out to weave her fingers through your hair. She gazes at a strand of hair for a while, something burning in her eyes that you don't understand, and you pipe up.
"But you're much better at it now, right?" you ask hopefully, prompting her to snap out of it.
She nods quickly, blushing bright red. "I just. They don't...they pretend to like me and they're nice but I know they don't really like me and I just...I'm scared that if I break up with Hans or he breaks up with me...I'm scared of what they'll do to me." Her voice is barely a whisper now and your heart sinks into your gut.
"Oh, Elsa," you murmur, feeling tears prickling at your eyeballs. "Is that why you got drunk? You know I'd protect you, right? I mean, I gave freaking Meg Egan a broken nose just for spreading rumors about you."
"Oh!" she says suddenly, like she's just remembered she was in the middle of a story. "No. That's not why. I just...Hans was toting me around and I had a drink in my hand but I was taking...I was taking little sips, you know? Nothing too bad, because I don't like being drunk very much." You roll your eyes but she just blinks at you, as if to say, I'm being serious. "And all Hans' friends were saying stuff, and at first I thought it was because they didn't think I could hear them but I was looking right at them and they knew, Anna. They knew and they were saying all this stuff like 'Hey Hans, how's your girl here in bed?' and 'Think we could give her a try sometime?' and Hans just stood there, Anna. So I just kept drinking because I figured if I got drunk enough maybe it wouldn't bother me so much or something. " She's kind of crying now and you feel sick to your stomach.
"They...they said that?" you whisper.
Elsa doesn't answer, but her silence is all the answer you need.
Suddenly you hear it, the front door opening and the sound of footsteps pattering downstairs, then what sounds like someone smacking into the wall followed by a not-so-quiet oof. Then the front door slamming shut. Footsteps on the stairs.
Shit. Hans. Shit, shit, shit.
"Fuck, Elsa," you hiss, turning to her with fear consuming your insides because logically you know Hans won't come in here (why would he?) but even the notion of it is absolutely terrifying and Elsa is being so loud and giggly and unlike herself, she's bound to give herself away.
"Who's that?" she whispers, eyes widening to the point where you have to laugh, quickly covering your mouth with your hand. A few strands of white-blonde hair fall out of her braid and into her eyes and she crinkles her nose adorably, puckering her lips and attempting to blow them out of her way. You're smiling so wide at this point that your cheeks actually hurt as you reach over gently and push the stay hairs out of her eyes. She smiles gratefully at you just as you hear Hans' footsteps right outside your door.
And then your doorknob turns.
You nearly fall off the bed in a panic before realizing the door is locked. Okay. Good. Now you just have to make sure Elsa keeps quiet.
All at once the rattling of the doorknob ceases, and you hear Hans mutter, "Shit, wrong door," before clomping off down the hall.
As soon as you hear his bedroom door close, you collapse into a fit of hysterical giggles, clutching your sides, because you've never been so relieved or so amused. Hans is so stupid. You still can't believe he managed to get somebody as completely wonderful as Elsa.
You finally release the breath you've been holding in ever since Elsa showed up on your doorstep as you feel her settle in beside you in the bed, and let your eyes flutter shut except your mind won't shut up so frankly you don't expect sleep to come anytime soon.
You're somewhere halfway between being asleep and awake when you feel Elsa shift next to you, and when you open your eyes to check if she needs anything suddenly she's got hands on either side of your body and she's gazing down at you with huge, glassy blue eyes, long blonde hair falling all around her face and creating a kind of curtain around the both of you. And she's looking at you in a way you've never been looked at before in your life, a look that makes you heart flutter and your stomach tie itself in knots like a rope and if you're the rope then Elsa's your anchor.
It's nothing spectacular, yet at the same time it is nothing short of breathtaking — one second you're gazing into Elsa's blue eyes, narrowed in inebriated playfulness and the next you can't see anything and all you feel is a pair of lips brushing against yours, painfully soft and sinfully sweet and it feels nothing like kissing a girl who holds ice beneath her skin. It's warm and cozy and you've never had more of an urge to throw your arms around Elsa's neck and pull her close, kiss down her jawline and lap greedily at her pulse point but before you can even react she's pulling away, eyes wide and even in her intoxicated state it's obvious that she knows she's made a mistake.
A mistake, you think bitterly. That's all you are, all you've always been. That's what all of this is. A fucking pathetic mistake, because you're not a genius but you're smart enough to know that Sober Elsa would not have wanted this.
Seeming somewhat concerned but pleased, Elsa simply lowers herself back onto the mattress next to you, curling up into a tight ball on top of the covers and you think you can hear her crying.
"Sorry," she squeaks out after a long, long time. When you roll over to look at her, face still flushed with heat, you're taken aback to find her with red, puffy eyes and tears trailing down her pale cheeks. God, she's drunk. She's really, really drunk, and she didn't know what she was doing. She didn't know what she was doing, and it was a mistake, just one big mistake and you were stupid to ever think otherwise, but mostly you just feel bad for her and you're so, so tired, so you wrap an arm around her and she curls instinctively into your embrace.
"It's okay, Els," you murmur gently, unconsciously winding your fingers into her silky hair, liking the way this new nickname rolls off your tongue. "Just go to sleep now, okay?"
"Mmm...'kay," she murmurs, settling into the form of your body, eyes fluttering shut. She's so beautiful.
She's asleep within minutes but you remain awake and alert for hours afterwards, storm clouds brewing in your head as you run your tongue over your lips just to savor the taste of Elsa.
voila! again, pretty excited about this chapter. reviews + con-crit are always encouraged and wholly appreciated. :)