A week passes without any contact to, or from, Elsa. You haven't even told Kristoff yet, and it was really easy to beg off seeing Hans. All you had to do was say you had a yeast infection, so that was why you'd left. It doesn't even make you feel bad, the lying.

You don't want to face any of them.

Finally, though, Kristoff rings you. You're not expecting it; nor are you expecting the, "Hey, what's wrong?" that carries over the line before even a proper hello.

"...What?'

"I was talking to Elsa and she asked if I'd heard from you. Seemed to be under the impression that you might not be okay? So what's up? You're not going into work?"

Oh God, too many questions, too much, too Elsa.

You sigh deeply, head in your hand. "I'm fine," you tell him, teeth gritted as though it isn't a huge fucking lie. "Elsa's the one with a problem."

"...Huh?"

There's a few seconds of silence as you fight down the anger. What right does Elsa have asking about you now? What right does she have to care about you? It's obvious that she only thought she did because she felt guilty.

"She... she was the other driver, Kris," you say. And then you realise it wasn't anger you were fighting, but the bubble of tears and grief. You haven't let yourself feel anything about it, not since you learned, but now it feels like you've lost your parents all over again. "W-when I lost Mom and Dad and my legs and... and she was the other driver and she kept that from me."

"Oh God, Anna. I'm- I don't know what to say. Why did she tell you now? Why not before? Or... I don't know. Never?"

Instead of a sob, a watery laugh bursts from your throat. This entire situation is fucked up. "Because I slept with her."

"What?"

"Mhmm. Last Saturday. We fucked and it was the best sex I've ever had and the morning after she told me. Here I thought she cared about me, but who the fuck does that? So I- I quit. What- what did she expect me to do?!"

He's silent for a few minutes, just processing that. You pull yourself up from the couch and make your way to the kitchen. It takes until you've made your hot chocolate before he speaks again.

"I can't imagine how hard this must be," he says slowly. "But... I think you're wrong. About her not caring." You scoff, but he presses on. "No, I- I really do. It seems like all she's ever wanted to do was make sure you were happy. Sure, she fucked up, but she's not... she's not a monster, Anna. She's just a deeply flawed human."

You sit there incredulously. "Did- did you not hear me? She murdered my parents. She put me in this fucking chair, Kris."

"Did she? You told me once that you never actually looked up what happened. That you didn't want to know any more than you'd already been told."

Narrowing your eyes, you glare at your drink because you can't glare at him. "Whose side are you on?" you snap. "Coz it doesn't sound like mine."

There's silence for a few seconds before you hear a long, low sigh. "I'm- I'm sorry, Anna. You're right. This is a really fucked up situation. I'm- if I can help in any way, let me know, okay?"

You shouldn't have snapped, but you're too tired, too drained, to apologise. "Can you get my stuff from the office?"

"Of course. I'll grab it tomorrow, okay?"

Giving a nod, you let yourself sigh, too. "Okay." And then, because you know you'll feel terrible if you don't, you apologise. "I'm sorry for getting angry at you."

You think you hear a small smile in his words when he says, "It's okay. You're going through a lot. Do you wanna come over for dinner tomorrow night? Sven's making lasagne."

"Since when have you lived together?"

"We don't!" Kris rushes to assure you. "He just... spends a lot of time here..."

Finally, for the first time in what feels like weeks, you smile. "I'll be there. Say 'hi' for me."

And with that, the conversation is pretty much over. You say your goodbyes and leave him to it. You already feel a little better for having discussed this with Kristoff.