pls stop asking when elsa comes back. she'll be back when she gets back. this is an anna story.
You get an unexpected phone call the day before New Year's Eve.
Well. The caller isn't unexpected, but the reason for the contact is.
"We should do something Saturday night," Hans says, as though the last time you saw him he hadn't been leaving you alone at an ER in the middle of the night. On Christmas. Your face hardens, even though you can't see him and he can't see you.
You still need to throw out that stupid piece of lace he'd bought you. The longer it's sat in your wardrobe, the more ridiculous it seems that he bought it in the first place.
Anyway, you're not really all that surprised that Hans rang you, but you are surprised that he doesn't ask about your leg, or health in general. He just goes straight into inviting you over and...
And you realise you're not surprised at all. That this isn't actually out of the blue, and he's been treating you like shit for months now.
So you swallow, blink a few times, and say, "No."
There's silence over the line for a moment while he processes that. With each passing second, your mouth becomes drier and your heart thumps, louder and louder, in your chest.
"...What? Did you just say... no?"
His voice is low, every word spoken in a measured tone that sets you on edge. This... this isn't good.
And you shouldn't be scared of your boyfriend, but right now you're supremely glad you're not alone with him. That you're not at his house.
"I- I just mean—"
"What, Anna? What did you 'just mean'?" His tone is mocking now, and you can hear the fury that bubbles beneath every syllable.
Tears prick in your eyes, and you pull the phone away briefly to suck in a breath.
"I just meant that I've already made plans with Kristoff. I figured you wouldn't want to see him so I didn't invite you." It's not a complete lie. Hans doesn't like Kristoff and Kris definitely doesn't want Hans in his home. That's not unreasonable!
Except Hans seems to think it is.
"Jesus Christ, Anna. You ruin Christmas and now you go off and make plans without me, seeing people you know I don't like, and—"
"Hey, hang on—"
"And now you're interrupting me. God, Anna. Really? Fine, just fucking forget about it."
"Hans—"
"I said forget about it, Anna."
And with that, he hangs up. You look down at your phone, blinking, trying to shake the feeling that... you've done something wrong. But you haven't.
You really do have plans with Kristoff. And even if you hadn't...
You probably would have said you did anyway.
Kristoff welcomes you with open arms. It smells like he's been cooking – something Mexican, if you had to guess – and his smile is a balm for your frazzled nerves.
You still haven't told him about your leg, and by now, you're really not planning on it. He doesn't need to know what he doesn't need to know. If you told him, he'd probably drive right over to Hans' place and slug him in the nose. As entertaining as that might be, you know that it will only end up worse for you later.
And that isn't even a possibility. It's a definitely.
As you move into Kristoff's living room, you choose to focus on the evening he has planned. He passes you the remote to choose something before moving into the kitchen. When he returns, laden with drinks and a tray of nachos, you feel yourself elate with sheer gratitude.
There's a reason he's your best friend, and it isn't because he kept you fed, or was one of the few friendly faces of your childhood. It's because he's never put up with your shit, but he's always been there to help anyway.
He's got a corn chip halfway to his face, body angled to the TV when you speak. "I started looking into the accident."
Kristoff blinks at you. "Oh?" he asks casually, stuffing the chip into his mouth. Somehow he managed not to spill any toppings. You nod, clicking on some kid movie for some background noise.
"I don't know why it took so long, to be honest." Kristoff is still looking at you, but your gaze is on the TV. Your stomach swirls, something heavy settling on your shoulders as you speak. You want to share this with him, what you've found. It's just a lot harder than you'd thought it would be. "It's just... confusing... Everything's a mess."
"What is, exactly?" Kristoff asks. You shrug.
"Everything? What I know – or, what I thought I knew. What Elsa's said, and what all the documents tell me. Something has to be wrong, right? Is it me?"
Kristoff doesn't speak for a few seconds. He's obviously thinking. He holds out the nachos and even though you don't feel particularly hungry, you take one. It'll be suspicious if you don't.
"You're not wrong, Anna," he says eventually. "Whatever that's even supposed to mean, okay? This whole situation is messed up, but thinking in terms like that – right, and wrong – isn't going to help. Are there even two sides? How can there be, in this kind of accident?" He sighs, long and low. "There's your truth, and Elsa's truth, and the truth determined by the authorities. And just because they're not all the same, it doesn't mean that one is a lie, or false."
He stops then, picking up another corn chip. Simultaneously, you want to continue talking to him about it and you want to move on.
The second option is easier right now.
"So, what are we going to watch?" you ask instead.
Just for tonight, you want to think about something new.
