Day Seventy-Three: There Goes Gravity

A/N: I got...a lot of comments on that last chapter. Like wow. Look, I'm not gonna pull the "don't like, don't read" card here, but I will say that I was joking when I say that the story needs more angst. I'm not that one-dimensional, everything has its purpose right now. As for the comments about Anna being too much of a bitch? She's not gonna go through the same pace of character development as Elsa. Again, just be patient y'all. It's only day seventy-three. We've got a little less than three hundred days left.

"So you just have freckles everywhere, huh?"

I roll my eyes and toss the shirt I was going to put on at Aurora. "Maybe you should stop checking me out, and put on a shirt too."

The all-too-eager blonde takes my shirt off her face and rolls over on the bed, hooking her arm around my stomach. "Or maaaaaybe you should come back to bed so we can spend the rest of the day right here."

"You said you wanted to get breakfast," I say amused.

"Well I changed my mind," she purred while planting soft kisses along my bare back, sending tingles down my spine. It doubles the chills I'm already feeling from the morning breeze hitting my half-naked torso. "I've got my breakfast right here."

A light moan traitorously escapes my lips, letting my gorgeous captor know that she got me. And then she grows bolder and bites down lightly on my exposed skin. "Stooooop," I say with a breathy chuckle. "You know I'd love to spend the rest of the day in bed again, but I am actually hungry. And besides," I sigh and succumb to her embrace, falling back onto the bed. "You know I have to go."

It's been three days. Three days apart. Three days of binge-eating, drinks, cartoons, sex, and mansion breaking. It's been easy, exhilarating, freeing, but not at all distracting. Elsa's been on my mind no matter what I do; I can feel the remnants of her arms around my stomach, my spine still shivers thinking about her sobbing onto my back, and her pleas for me not to go still ring in my ear.

I turn over, Aurora's got a frown on her face that I know is more than just about me having to leave. "Do you have to? Are you sure she even wants to see you right now?"

"It doesn't matter," I reply. "I haven't heard from her at all, I need to go back and check on her."

"She's a grown woman, Anna. She should be able to take care of herself." I haven't told her much about Elsa, not even her name, but she's right. Elsa should be able to take care of herself, and I believe that she can, but I still need to go back.

"I promised her I'd come back," I reply, "But that doesn't mean I'll stay there for long, you know? I'll be back in your arms in no time."

"Hmm...okay. You better." Gentle fingers run through my bedhead, smoothing out a few of the hundreds of loose strands. "I'm gonna miss you every second that you're gone."

I smile contently, stroking her short, blonde hair, "I'm gonna miss you too." Breakfast can wait a minute, I lean forward and kiss Aurora, my whatever we are, like I'm going off to war. It's not long enough to lead anything else but heated enough that it's definitely on my mind again. She's shifted over so that she's on top and straddling me, her oversized t-shirt covers me like a blanket. Her lips still have a hint of last night's whiskey.

Before we can get too distracted, Aurora's the one that breaks the kiss. She's looking down at me and biting her lip like she wants to continue, but she gets off me instead. Kinda wish a couple of those words were rearranged…

"Let me just brush my teeth and we can go out," she says while picking up a pair of jeans from the floor- they might be mine, I'm not sure anymore. "Do you know what you want?"

I sit up and cross my legs, grabbing my shirt from Aurora's side of the bed. "Pancakes sound good."

"Hmm…" She puts a finger to her pursed lips, and then nods, "Okay, I think I know a place."

I flash her a grateful smile, "You're the best."

She giggles and disappears into her bathroom, "I know!"

A part of me is floating, blissful, and relieved at how easy things are with Aurora. Another part of me is nervous, unsettled, and guilty. Guilty because I've left Elsa alone? Yeah, but it also feels like I'm guilty because of something else. Why is it that I never have all the answers that I want?

I stand up and stuff my laundry into my duffel bag, no sense in being neat about it since I'm tossing them all in the washing machine when I get back anyway. Plus, I didn't bring a lot of clothes to begin with- half the time I was here I just wore my pajamas. My clothes scattered everywhere blend in well with the rest of Aurora's room.

It's messy, but in a way that feels like everything is exactly where she wants them to be. The walls are more barebones than I thought they were going to be, with only a clock and an old Guns n Roses poster hanging on them. Blankets cover half of her queen-sized bed. On her dresser are pictures with her and her friends, and a rose-patterned incense holder, and next to it is a full-body mirror with ironic Post-it notes stickied around the frame. They say things like "CHASE YOUR DREAMS", and "CATCH TACOS, NOT FEELINGS."

And then, of course, always on in the background is her never-ending playlist coming from a spare phone connected to a Bluetooth speaker. A nasally, pop-punk ballad is playing right now as I place the last of my clothes into my duffel bag. There's an inside-out shirt on the floor that I'm pretty sure is mine. I pick it up and flip it over, it's definitely not mine but it smells like Aurora so I might just steal it and hope she doesn't notice. That's when I notice that there's something on the floor where the shirt used to be.

It looks like an old photo, curiosity gets the best of me and I turn it over. It's a picture of a little girl holding a man's hand, with a vaguely familiar house behind them. The man's face has been completely marked off with a black marker, and the words FUCK YOU are written over it. The little girl has shoulder-length blonde hair, a big, close-eyed smile, and is flashing a peace sign with her free hand.

It's Aurora.

I scan the photo carefully for more signs to reinforce my conclusion, but I get another shock when I look at the house again. It's a little smaller, and only one floor, but I'd recognize the door to our destruction mansion anywhere. All this time, we were taking a sledgehammer to her childhood home.

That's how she knew no one would be there, and how she knew the front door would be unlocked. And who's this man in the picture? Her dad? Why were we over there? What happened between them? I want to ask Aurora these things, but I don't think it's my place to ask just yet. It wasn't like this picture was tucked away or anything, but it still feels like an invasion of privacy. Something I'm surprisingly good at.

I hear a door unlock, at first I think it's her coming out of the bathroom, but it's much more muffled. And then I hear a voice, a man's voice, an angry man's voice.

"Aurora?! I know you're here! We have to talk!"

And then the bathroom door unlocks, and Aurora looks frightened and panicked. "Shit," she says before pacing over to me, "You have to hide. Now!"

"Wha- why? Aurora, what's going on?" I stammer out. Her hands are gripping my shoulders, and I realize that I haven't put on my shirt yet. She's not giving me any time to do so, instead pushing me towards the corner of her room where her closet is.

"He shouldn't be back yet! Anna, I'll explain everything later, you just need to-" Her door opens before she can finish, and things go from bad to worse.

A man enters, wearing an untucked long-sleeved shirt and an undone tie draped around his neck. He's got a gross amount of unkempt stubble and messy brown hair, it's like he hasn't slept in days. Or he's hungover. Or both. "You and I need to- who the hell is this?!"

Aurora moves from me to him, like she's trying to protect me. Or herself. "Phillip, now is not the time. Get the fuck out of here!"

"Are you kidding me?! No, we're finishing our conversation! How dare you try to break up with me through text?"

"Fuck you! I should have ended things a long time ago!"

"And that makes it okay to sleep with other bitches behind my back?"

Woah there, alright I'm not gonna just stand here and get called a bitch without saying anything. I step towards Phillip, only kept from getting right up in his face by Aurora keeping me at bay. "Excuse me, just who the hell do you think you are?! If you're gonna call me a bitch, then say it to my face!"

Which he does. Phillip steps closer- again, only stopped by Aurora putting a hand on his chest- and I can smell alcohol on his breath.

It's a stupid thing to ask, it's pretty obvious who he is. But I'm hoping that maybe this is all some twisted, fucked-up misunderstanding. He growls out his venomous response, "I'm her boyfriend, you homewrecking bitch."

...damn it.

I want to ask more, I have to ask more, but I can't speak let alone breathe right now. Aurora shifts all of her focus on me. I want her to say that he's lying, I want her to kick Phillip out. But underneath the frustration and panic on her face, I can see something that I'm all too familiar with: guilt. "Anna, I'll explain everything later. Right now, I just- I need to- you have to go."

She's kicking me out.

"Aurora, what…" I can't say anything else. She's pushing my duffle bag into my hands, yelling at Phillip, leading me to her door. She's not telling me to stay, she's not holding me or kissing me, she's not coming to my defense. She's kicking me out, she's shutting her door, she's telling me she's sorry, and now I'm out on her front porch.

I still don't have a shirt on.

I'm alone.

The hotel hallway has never been as long as it is now. After putting on a shirt, I called for an Uber back to Arendelle Towers. There was nowhere else I felt comfortable going, no one else I wanted to be around. And I know Elsa's here, and I know she's gotta be pissed at me and never wants to see me again, but I didn't know what else to do.

It's...shit, I don't even know what time it is. 11 AM? That sounds about right, which means Elsa has to be awake by now. What if she's in the kitchen? What if she's right by my door? What if...what if...what if…

What if…

What if I hadn't left Elsa alone? What if I had just talked to her? What if I signed the release form? What if I never met Aurora? What if I could just tell Elsa what she is to me? What if I even had an answer for that?

One step. And then another step. That's all I can do right now, and eventually it'll take me to our door. ...our door? I don't think I've ever called it that before. I'm going to make it to our door, walk into our room, see our kitchen, see our living room. I'll see the mess that I made.

Room 914.

I'm here.

I swipe my room key, twitching when it beeps and the green light on the door handle flashes, and I step inside. It's dark and empty in here. Every step that I take is amplified by the silence, and it makes me wonder if she could hear me come in even past the soundproof walls. I mean, she has to be here, right?

There's only one way to find out: I walk up to her door and place my fist in front of it. One knock, two quick knocks in succession, and then two final knocks spaced out from each other. And then I speak for the first time since I left Aurora's place.

"Elsa? Please, I...please be here." She has to be, she just has to be. Because if she's not, then I don't know what else to do.

I rest my forehead on her door, "Elsa, please let me in."

She has to be here.

She needs to be here.

Please...please…

And then I hear it, feet shuffling and getting closer. The doorknob rattles, and this time I'm happy to hear it. She's here, Elsa's here, but...she doesn't look okay.

Her hair is a mess and no longer in a braid, there are dark bags under her eyes, her shirt is wrinkled and her sweatpants are sagging and backward. Almost as if she put them on in a hurry. She doesn't look mad or upset, she doesn't look happy to see me, she's not looking at me at all. Her tired eyes are set on the duffle bag at my side. "You're back…" she says softly.

"Heh, yeah. I-I told you that…" I stop when my eyes shift from her to the inside of her dim bedroom, and I see them: a letter and a pocket knife, resting at the foot of her bed.

And that's when I break.

I drop my duffle bag onto the floor and collapse onto Elsa, wrapping my arms around her waist. My tears immediately stain the collar of her shirt. I don't expect any sort of reciprocation, in fact I'm half-expecting her to push me away. So after a minute, when I feel her wrap her arms around my shoulders, my soft weeping turns into loud sobbing.

"I'm so sorry, Elsa," I cry, "I'm so fucking sorry…"

And it's silent, it's shameful, it's dark and frightening. I'm crying so hard that I can feel my throat start burning. I hate it.

It's all that I can say, all that I hopefully need to say. Again, I don't expect any response, and I still think she'll push me away. It'd be depressingly poetic, and well-deserved karma, but she doesn't. She still doesn't.

In fact, she surprises me yet again when she holds me closer…

And she starts crying too.