please dont ask for more updates. i already consistently update weekly.
Because you're going over to Kristoff's, he doesn't come by to drop your stuff off. You'll just collect it from him during dinner. Not that you had a lot of stuff there, but it was still important.
The first thing he does is pull you into a massive hug. You don't break apart, not for a long, long time.
"How are you?" he asks softly. You can't speak, don't really want to, so you just shrug. Kristoff gives a nod, like you'd given him a proper answer and he was agreeing with you. It's hard because you normally tell him everything, but right now... you don't know how.
How could he possibly understand how you feel? How could he imagine how deep the betrayal cuts, how completely shattered you are?
He can't, and you don't want to put him in the position where he has to try.
"So, what's for dinner?" you ask, and if it's a little bit more of a mumble than usual, he doesn't comment. Kristoff stands up and takes a few steps back, and you follow him further into the house.
Sven's standing over the oven, stirring something. It smells tomato-y, and you remember that Kristoff said he was making lasagne. You haven't... really been eating much lately, and the thought of a giant slice of meat, pasta, and béchamel sauce is enough to have your stomach heaving.
You try to push it from your mind by focussing, instead, on just how comfortable Sven looks in Kristoff's kitchen. A small smile even appears when he looks over his shoulder and spots you, saying, "Hey, babe, can you come and stir this for me so I can say hello?"
Kristoff gives a long, loud groan, but still makes his way over to the stove-top. His hand bops Sven on the butt to get him to move, and the casual affection is at once so fulfilling and so heartbreaking.
You're happy for him, you really are. You need to... you need to ring Hans again. You need to get your life back on track because this is fucking ridiculous.
You... you can do better than Elsa.
"Hey, Anna," Sven says gently. "Did you want a hug?"
You're already holding out your arms. "God yes," you say, and it makes him laugh a little.
"Do you wanna help make dessert? We're doing chocolate self-saucing pudding. Apparently it's your favourite?"
"Chocolate is my favourite," you tell him. It just makes him smile.
"I'll even let you lick the spoon." It isn't even condescending. You can see why Kristoff likes Sven.
It makes you feel just a little better and you look around again, noticing just how different the space is from when you last visited. It's almost like Sven really has moved in and you have to seize the opportunity to tease him. "Hey Kris, I never knew your kitchen could look so lived-in."
Kristoff just snorts. He can't even deny it. Sven just grins at you. God he's even kinder than your own boyfriend.
Who you really need to contact. Maybe after tonight you'll have the courage to ring him. Surely he's noticed that you haven't been at work.
... You need to find a new job, too.
Maybe Sven sees the spiral of thoughts you get caught in, or maybe he's psychic. Either way, he stands up and hands you a few recipes that've been printed out.
"Pick one and let's do this thing," he tells you with a smile. There's no way you can't return it.
You don't end up eating much for dinner, but it was still delicious. You had come over for the company more than the food, and Kristoff and Sven had certainly delivered on that front.
He invites you to stay for a movie, but you don't want to impose any longer.
"Thanks anyway," you say, because you definitely do feel better. And you'd love to have this night keep going, but Sven mentioned at dinner that he works Saturdays.
That, and... you feel tired. There's this bone-deep exhaustion, and it isn't from lack of sleep (which, lately, you have in abundance). It's probably something to do with the fact that your diet is shit and you've started having nightmares again and that you just feel so... sad all the time.
The highest highs come with the lowest lows, it seems. You're just tired of being tired.
So you hug them tightly and Kristoff offers to drive you home. You don't have the patience to deal with the buses, so you accept.
You should have expected the topic of conversation, but you'd kind of hoped he'd leave it. Kristoff is not one to leave things.
"Have you... thought about what I said?" he asks softly, once you're on the main road. It's fairly quiet for a Friday night. Your stuff from the office is in a box on the backseat.
Except the plant. It's resting on the floor between your feet.
"And what did you say?" you ask, because you don't really wanna play into his game. He sighs.
"About maybe... doing your own research into the accident."
You huff out a breath. "I have enough things to think about instead of dredging that shit up," you respond. "Like finding another job. No sense in dwelling on the past when I have a future to plan."
It seems Kristoff doesn't know what to say. That, or he doesn't want to start another fight.
The thing is... he's right. There's this hole inside you and you'd never really noticed it before. Never wanted to think about it, or why it was there in the first place. It's becoming more and more apparent that this – this running and hiding and ignoring – won't help, can't help. Sooner or later you're going to have to face it.
Even if you don't want to.