Big and special shout out to Dillautris for making a lovely fanart of the nightclub scene which y'all can find in their tumblr (I would link but I have no idea how tf to do it so if any of you knows please hmu) Anyway, you guys are all incredible... Stay safe!
There is something off about Elsa. It is dreadfully conspicuous, and Anna can recognize the shift in an instant.
She wants to know what's wrong; she wants to pull Elsa to the side and ask if it's something she's said or done, but there is too much going on all around them. Amidst the crowd, Sasha has briefly caught up to them. He has introduced Elsa and Anna to his parents and has said goodbye with a wink that Anna barely registers. A moment later, they start to move away from the people still lingering by the arrival gate so that they can head towards the exit. Rapunzel, Kristoff and Eugene are doing their own thing, talking to Elsa about things that sound too distant, while to her left, Hans is saying something that she doesn't hear. She is too focused on the way Elsa's hand feels in her own—cold and distant.
"Anna."
She snaps out of it and turns to her boss.
"I can drive you guys back," he repeats, already taking his keys out of the pocket of his coat. He has a Lexus but it is far from an SUV, and unless one of them sits on top of somebody else, Anna doubts they can make this work.
"That won't be necessary, thank you," Elsa responds for her. The tone of her voice is polite but inflexible, and in that moment Anna is hit with the realization that the reason behind her sudden change of demeanor is standing right here with them.
Hans's eyes shift from Elsa to Anna and back before a smile creeps across his face. He nods shortly, although cordially, and extends a hand towards the blonde once more.
"It was a pleasure to finally meet you," he says, his smile widening when she shakes it with cold solemnity. He extends the same formalities to the rest of their friends until he finally turns to Anna and says: "I'll see you tomorrow. Don't be late."
He leaves, like a sour aftertaste. And it isn't because Anna has just now felt the beginnings of a dread that will extend itself well into the late hours of the night, but because everyone is expressing a relief she did not know was being restricted by Hans. She is suddenly feeling the hefty weight of unease pressing down on her, unforgiving and relentless. There is guilt in every step she takes and the farther they get from the airport, the more distance she feels being wedged between Elsa and her. The problem is, she doesn't know what she should be feeling guilty about. She knows Hans had never been part of the plan but the fastest way for her to get to the airport in time required his help. Should she be feeling guilty, then, for wanting to be there for Elsa?
There is no answer to this. There are barely any words at all, like a well of silence so big that it separates her from the person she loves the most in this world.
They take the A Line straight back to Manhattan. Over an hour's worth of commute that is spent with Elsa quietly sitting next to her, answering her cousin and Eugene's questions while Kristoff stands to the other side of Anna looking like a nightclub bouncer on a bad night.
"...and I was telling Anna that we should've thrown you a surprise welcoming party but then none of us would have been able to pick you up at the airport and she said that was too mean."
"So instead she got her boss to join us," Kristoff quips with annoyance.
Anna frowns, slouching against the seat.
"Yeah, what was that about?" Eugene asks as he scoots to the edge of the bench across from the girls, his expression one of irritating curiosity.
"We finished work late," she says, barely holding in her frustration. "So he offered to drive me to the airport because if I had taken the train I wouldn't have made it on time. I've explained this to you guys like three times already."
The gap of silence that follows is only broken by the operator's deep and detached voice coming in from the speakers to announce the next stop. Anna goes on looking down at her lap, at the hands that have not held onto Elsa's since they boarded the train. She can feel her friends' eyes on her, but the sensation of Elsa's gaze outweighs them all. It is as though she was waiting for Anna to say something; for her to brush off the entire ordeal, throw Kristoff a witty comeback and move on. But when Anna turns to face her, she looks away and the moment is gone.
"It sounds like you're hangry," Rapunzel says from the other side of Elsa.
"Maybe," she forces out.
She leans her head back while everyone else moves on to another topic. The train screeches to a halt; the doors slide open; two men step out, and no one steps in. Right before the doors slide closed again she catches the name of the station and with a heavy sigh, she closes her eyes.
They're not even in Brooklyn yet.
In the end, they make it to the East Village at almost 9 PM. Once inside the girls' apartment, silence sneaks in and settles heavily amongst them like an unwelcome guest. The lights in the hallway go on, and Anna follows its lit up path as the last of the trio. Her attention zeroes in on the sound of the suitcases' wheels rattling against the wooden floor while she thinks, not for the first time tonight, that this is not how she expected to welcome her girlfriend back home.
The lights in the living room go on next. She watches Elsa look around, perhaps taking everything in after being away for what felt like longer than it actually was. All of it is in its rightful place. There are no empty cups on the coffee table, no book misplaced, no crooked pillow on the sofa, and Anna can't help but smile. Because this was all Rapunzel's doing. And because this is closer to the type of welcoming she wishes she had given her.
From the kitchen, Rapunzel cranes her neck to speak to them.
"Cousin, you hungry? Anna, are you still hangry? I can cook you guys something. Like cereal or whatever."
Elsa shakes her head, gives her a wan smile and reaches for the handles of her two suitcases again. "I'm okay, thank you," she says, glancing at Anna one last time before silently making her way to her room.
The door is left ajar and the mere sight of it causes Anna's stomach to churn with unease. She knows she should follow after her but the acknowledgment doesn't make it any easier. The problem is not doing it; the problem is what will happen once she does. All of the sudden, Anna feels exhausted but she doubts it is solely because of work. None of this was supposed to happen. This living room, as it is, should have been filled with conversation and laughter. It should have been occupied late into the night, while Elsa told them everything about London despite the fact that there was nothing new to tell. While Rapunzel threw random questions at her and Anna sat on the sofa curled up against her body until the clock hit midnight and they could have both wished Elsa a happy birthday.
"You should talk to her," Rapunzel whispers harshly, making her jump. When did she get so freaking close?
"I know."
A pause. The girl is staring at her. She finds it hard to stare back.
"It wasn't a very good idea to invite Hansel to the airport."
"It's Hans."
Rapunzel rolls her eyes. "I know his name."
She sighs defeatedly. "Okay..."
A pair of arms wrap themselves around her shoulders. Rapunzel's embrace is warm and for a moment, no matter how fleeting it might be, Anna doesn't feel so crappy about what she's done.
"Don't cry, it's gonna be okay."
"I'm not crying."
"You know what I mean."
With that, Rapunzel steps back. There is an encouraging smile that Anna appreciates and a gentle pat on the head that she doesn't appreciate as much before the girl grabs her by the shoulders and spins her around. She prompts her forward even if she doesn't need to, and in less than five steps she reaches Elsa's bedroom.
Inside, Elsa is crouching by one of her suitcases.
"What are you up to?" Anna asks. The nonchalance in her voice makes her want to smack her own forehead, but somewhere inside of her there is still a trace of self-restraint and she uses the last of it for this.
"Unpacking."
She steps closer. "You spent five months away from your room and the first thing you choose to do is unpack?"
"Better sooner than later," Elsa replies coldly. Not once has she looked up from the sweater she's pulled out of her suitcase in order to fold it properly. À la Elsa, Anna has always thought. Four steps to fold a single sweater. How infuriating.
Anna takes another step closer. Her right foot bumps into the other suitcase but she keeps herself from cursing out loud—there really goes the very last of her self-restraint.
"Elsa," she murmurs, "Talk to me."
The folded sweater is laid softly on the bed. Elsa's shoulders go up before Anna hears the heavy sigh that escapes through her nose. It happens once, then twice, and Anna can do nothing but stare dumbly at her.
"Why was Hans there?" She finally asks.
"I already told you, because we finished work late and taking the train would have taken me much longer than him driving me to the airport."
"But why was he inside, Anna. He could have just dropped you off and be done with his selfless deed of the day."
Anna frowns as she feels another sharp rush of dread take over her body.
"Because I wanted him to meet you..."
"What makes you think I wanted that to happen?"
It feels like a blow. Elsa's voice is tainted by an accusation, bitter and resentful. It pushes her so far away from Anna that it feels as though she cannot reach out to her. Yet, she tries. She takes one last step forward, and Elsa responds by sitting on the bed and looking down at the floor with her palms cradling her elbows.
"Tell me what you're feeling," Anna says.
"I'm feeling angry," she responds, "I was so happy to be back, to see all of you, to see you. Hans just felt like a slap in the face."
"I was trying to get to the airport in time, Elsa. Can you at least understand that?"
Elsa stands back up with enough force that she takes a step back. "But why, Anna, why did you even ask him to stay—what's so special about us meeting that couldn't have waited another day? Do you not realize how it feels for me to come back home after being away for months and then having to see him without so much as a warning?"
"But what's the big deal! It's just Hans—"
"I don't like him."
She stares dumbfounded. "Okay, and how was I supposed to know that in the first place? How on earth am I supposed to guess that you don't like my boss?"
"Maybe if you hadn't checked your phone so desperately every time he texted you in London you would have noticed my reactions."
Another jab, and Anna can feel herself becoming increasingly frustrated.
"Maybe if you hadn't kept it in like you always do..."
Elsa scoffs. "You were just waiting to get that one out, weren't you?"
"Of course not. But if you don't talk to me how the hell am I supposed to know?"
"I'm talking to you right now, aren't I? He texted you so much I was starting to wonder if you really meant it when you said you had nothing scheduled for that week."
"You know I would never lie to you."
Elsa goes to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Right," she breathes weakly, "I'm going to sleep then because this is pointless. Thank you for the wonderful welcoming."
"Don't," Anna rushes out as she steps in between her and the door. She holds onto her forearms, gently urging her to take a step back. "We need to talk about this. Whatever it is about Hans that's really bothering you, you can just tell me... Is it really just the texting?"
She adverts her eyes. "I don't know, Anna... I really don't know, but whatever it is it's stupid anyway because he's your boss and I should just respect the fact that he takes up more time and attention than other people will."
"It isn't stupid. Why do you always have to downgrade your emotions like that?" She searches for an answer that is bound not to be found. Anna has learned this the hard way. Elsa doesn't just keep her emotions tucked away, she undermines them to the breaking point.
"Are you jealous then?"
"Should I be?"
"You know the answer to that—God, it's like the whole Tracy thing all over again."
"How is that the same? I'm telling you how I feel about your boss and you're acting like I'm some crazy jealous girlfriend."
"I didn't call you crazy! I just asked you a question, stop putting words in my mouth."
Elsa crosses her arms. "I'm not jealous," she states, "And it's not a matter of trust either. I don't feel comfortable at the thought of Hans, not with the way he wouldn't stop texting you and calling you while you were away. But what angers me the most is that out of any day you had to choose this one to introduce me to him."
"Okay, I'm sorry," she exclaims, throwing her hands up in frustration. "I know I messed up. I should have never asked him to meet you even though I had no idea you hated him so much."
"Just tell me something then," Elsa says, "Why was he texting you so much?"
"Well, why don't we ask him?" She responds sarcastically.
"It wouldn't hurt you to take something seriously for once."
"I don't have an answer to that, Elsa. He's my boss. I can't exactly question every decision he makes, that's not how this works."
"So what you're telling me is that however he treats you, you will take it because he's your boss."
Anna sighs in exasperation. She gives herself a time-out by going to sit on the edge of the bed and running her palms down her face. She feels so stupidly tired.
"It's not like he's treating me like shit," she says with scorn, "And what the hell does that have to do with anything? What are you even mad about, that he showed up at the airport or that he was texting me—"
"Both, Anna! You were supposed to be on vacation and you shouldn't have asked him to stay. This might not be a big deal to you, but you of all people should have known it would have been for me. You didn't think about it and now look where that got us... You can't even apologize for it and mean it."
The air feels as though it has thickened inside the room. Elsa has spoken her mind and Anna, rightfully so, has taken the blow. She feels disheartened to have been the cause of this, and stupid because she should have known. She really, really should have known.
"I'm sorry," she murmurs at last, but Elsa is already shaking her head.
"It's been a long day," she responds, her voice soft and defeated. "I'm going to sleep. Maybe you should, too."
Elsa leaves the room after this while Anna remains sitting where she is, staring at the open suitcase with disdain. So much for unpacking, she thinks before looking the other way and finding Elsa's sweater still neatly folded on the bed. It sits there, mocking her, and for a moment she feels like disarranging it just for the heck of it—just to make a mess out of something that isn't her relationship. She figures that could be cathartic in its own way.
But of course it isn't, and neither is the dead silence that meets her when Elsa returns from the bathroom, changes into more comfortable clothes and gets in bed, forgetting about the suitcase that Anna feels the need to close and drag to the foot of her wardrobe lest anyone decides to get up in the middle of the night and trips on it. The good intentions are there, but the consideration... that should have been in her mind more than a few hours ago.
Anna berates herself as she lies in bed, staring up at the ceiling washed by the dim moonlight that seeps in from the window. Her hands rest on her belly, itching to find comfort in the girl that lies facing away from her. This silence between them... It clenches around her throat before she feels the first of her tears well up in her eyes. Quietly, so that Elsa can't sense that she's crying, Anna covers her face. She presses the heels of her hands against her eyes, willing herself to stay calm in the engulfing darkness of the room. If only she weren't so impulsive. If only she had taken a few extra seconds to consider that Elsa wouldn't appreciate meeting a virtual stranger on the same day that she's finally come back home.
And the texting... The stupidtexting that didn't mean anything in the first place. She had thought Elsa had not taken it to heart, that she'd understood it was just Hans and that there was nothing more to it. But Elsa had been right: it had been too much. She'd known this and had wondered herself why he insisted on texting her about things only vaguely related to work. Yet, Hans was her boss, and Anna had not known what to do...
"Rushing for the phone as soon as the girlfriend's gone?" Tracy clicked her tongue.
Anna had been past the point of expecting a reencounter with her that night but the moment Elsa had gone to the bathroom she'd boldly taken up her spot with the excuse of ordering a drink. Her presence had been annoying, but the statement had been infuriating.
"Don't you have better things to do other than pinning after someone who won't even look at you?"
Tracy laughed. "Oh, sweetheart. I know when a battle is lost and which lines not to cross, but do you?"
"You're delusional," she scowled, "I don't know if you were dropped on your head as a child to come up with such idiotic things but if you think I'm cheating on Elsa then you're wrong. And even if she were single, don't fool yourself by thinking she would ever choose to be with someone like you."
The girl smirked as she grabbed the cocktail placed for her on the bar. "You know," she said, "Under different circumstances we could have been friends."
"Doubtful," Anna responded, and as she watched her take a sip of her drink she wondered what it was about Tracy that was so abnormally annoying. It wasn't exactly the fact that she appeared to be so pretentious. It was her aloofness; unmoved and unnervingly constant.
"Here's an advice from a non-friend then," she said, leaning closer. "I don't care about who you're texting, or why. But for the sake of your precious relationship, don't do something good that appears to be bad."
An imperceptible sigh escapes her as she recalls that conversation over and over again. Her cheeks are damp with the few tears that she could not keep from falling. The silence: it stubbornly holds onto its suffocating weight. Next to her, Elsa is still awake. She can feel it in a way that she cannot describe, like the vibrations of the energy they share; a sound that cannot be heard.
Anna holds her breath as she looks at the shape of Elsa's form, dark in contrast with the light of the moon. It makes her heart ache. Her hand moves in the darkness and stops mere inches away from her turned back. This girl she loves... so close and yet so far away.
"I'm sorry," she breathes.
A beat, heavy and distressing. Elsa moves, barely so, and Anna feels brave enough to inch closer. She touches her arm and when Elsa doesn't pull away she lets out a quiet sigh of relief.
"I know I messed up," she says, "Not just today but when I was in London too."
A few seconds pass before Elsa turns to face her. She says nothing; she waits for Anna to continue. "And you're right, I should have waited. I think I was just so excited to see you again that I did everything without thinking about it first."
"You're impulsive," Elsa points out without any venom in her words.
"I am," she says, dispirited. "And I'm sorry. You're not me, and I should have considered that you wouldn't have appreciated meeting someone fresh out of a flight, especially if you're not a big fan of that someone."
Elsa looks away. "You didn't know," she mutters.
Anna scoots closer still, her hand going up to cradle Elsa's cheek. The way the girl's eyes close as she leans into the touch is enough to make her want to cry again. "But I should have paid more attention... I don't want you to think that you come in second when it comes to him because you don't, or that there's something going on when there isn't."
"I understand you can't exactly ignore him but... I don't know. I just felt like many of those texts weren't work related."
"They weren't," Anna says, shaking her head. "I don't think they were a priority either. I guess I've never had someone for whom I've worked this way. I don't know where to draw a line because I'm scared that if I take too long to respond or straight up ignore him, I could mess things up. I already did once with that Frank guy."
Elsa lets out a deep breath before she grabs Anna's hand and squeezes it. "I'm sorry for not telling you how I felt... again."
"You kinda did," she teases lightly.
"I'm sorry for how I said it then."
She smiles sadly at this. "Why did you not tell me anything when I was in London?"
Elsa turns downcast, almost ashamed. "He's your boss. I felt like I was overthinking everything again and like it was just my insecurities talking. I didn't want to make a problem out of this when you clearly didn't mind as much."
"I kind of did," Anna admits sheepishly. "But again, I'm scared to mess this up."
"You could set boundaries for yourself..."
She nods pensively.
"And it's not like you will be his assistant forever, right?"
"God no. I still kind of want to become a writer and all that."
A chuckle. "Maybe one day you'll get to boss him around when he begs to become your agent."
"Maybe," she smiles as she tucks Elsa's hair behind her ear. Her fingertips ghost over the skin of her forehead before they travel down to her cheek, driving the girl to close her eyes again. "I'm really sorry for ruining tonight."
"The night isn't over yet," Elsa whispers.
As if on cue, she pulls back to reach for her phone on the nightstand. The time reads 11:49 PM and Anna widens her eyes even if the bright light makes it hard for her to do so. She gets out of bed without a second thought, mumbling something incoherent when Elsa asks her where she's going. Her backpack hangs on a hook next to her girlfriend's—a backpack that went unused for over five months and one which Anna was tempted to borrow more times than she'd ever admit out loud. Out of her own, she pulls a small envelope before turning back around and tripping on the suitcase she had dragged to the side (lest somebody trips on it—yeah right.) She watches Elsa sit up and smiles when she hears the first genuine laugh of the night.
Anna turns on the lamp next to her side of the bed, and instantly feels the smile leave her face. Elsa is looking at her with curiosity in her red-rimmed eyes, softened now by the words they've shared and the exhaustion she most likely feels.
"I'm sorry," she says, deflated all over again. "I'm so sorry for how today went."
"I'm very sorry too, baby."
Elsa takes hold of her hand and prompts her to sit closer. She then brushes her cheeks with her thumbs, gently wiping away all traces of tears. The stillness that surrounds them is no longer the same, it isn't heavy nor suffocating; it is a stillness in which they can both breathe.
And how can silence sound so differently and yet be the same?
"Let's put it behind us," Elsa murmurs, her voice soft but determined. "What is that?"
Anna looks down at the envelope before she hands it to her. She watches her open it and pull out its contents as she gives her an explanation: "We did Central Park last year so I figured we could do the Rockefeller's ice rink this time. You'll probably have to teach me everything again because I'm not sure how much of it stuck but I don't think I'll be as sucky."
"Thank you," Elsa says and in her words there is more than just gratitude.
Softly, Anna cups her face. She no longer feels the need to check the time. She no longer has the desire to separate herself from Elsa for the rest of the night. "Happy birthday, baby," she murmurs.
The first kiss they share is soft, almost hesitant, yet Anna can feel something beyond affection igniting from it. It conveys everything that's been said and everything that's gone unsaid, too. It translates directly into the way Elsa's lips push harder against hers, capturing her lower lip before sucking softly on it while Anna scoots closer to rest her hand on the girl's waist.
Their movements are slow and deliberate. There is no rush this time; no need to prove themselves in a single gesture. And when Elsa's hand goes to the back of her neck, and her head tilts to deepen the kiss, Anna's mind drowns out everything else. She allows herself to be anchored by the way Elsa's tongue feels warm against her own, following the motion of their bodies as they move to lie on the bed and craving a connection that doesn't need to be explained.
Fingertips brush against the skin of her arm, forming a trail that goes up from her forearm to her bicep while they separate for an instant; their noses touching; their breaths mingling.
"Let me make it up to you," Anna whispers, her hand already moving under Elsa's t-shirt to caress the skin of her stomach.
Her girlfriend shakes her head as she takes hold of Anna's hand and guides it out from under the shirt to the space next to her head. "I want to feel you," Elsa whispers back, pinning her flat against the bed with arousing pressure.
For the rest of the night, there will be nothing left to say between them.
Anna doesn't understand what it is about rooftops. They keep finding themselves on one as if these were the only hang out spots they were allowed to access in New York. But whatever the reason may be she can't exactly complain because no matter the location, a rooftop in the city is always kind of a good idea even if the technicalities of climbing up aren't exactly what one would call safe. More often than not they are kind of shady, and Anna would be lying if she didn't question the sanity of those closest to her whenever they—
"Why do we always have to be sneaking up to rooftops like fugitives?" Elsa asks from behind her.
"It's called having fun, you should try it sometimes," Rapunzel quips.
From above her, Eugene sniggers.
It is ass-freezing up here, and kind of dark, and the fire escape ladder is moist because of the sleet that covered the city earlier today. They're going up at a snail's pace because nobody wants to fall off from this seven-floor tall building and welcome the New Year dead. But it was this or Times Square and no one wanted to do Times Square except for Rapunzel, because Rapunzel is weird and apparently she has a knack for obnoxious crowds where one has to stand around for hours, all crammed up and with nowhere close to pee—"And for what?" Eugene had asked, "The ball is so tiny you can't even see it."
So here they are, crawling up like fugitives to reach the rooftop on Kristoff's apartment building so that they can watch the fireworks set up on the Hudson River when the clock strikes midnight. Eugene leads the way because he says he's the least clumsy of them all but what does that matter? That won't save anyone from falling but himself, and if Anna had to choose she would have chosen Elsa anyway. She swears she's never seen the girl take a wrong step. Stealthy as a cat, and so, so flexible—
"Anna."
"What?"
"Why did you stop?" Elsa asks.
"Uh... no reason."
Up on the rooftop they set everything up. It reminds her of the way Elsa had their date set up for Valentine's Day, but more chaotic and less intimate. There are no pillows this time either, only the flameless candles her girlfriend once used, a handful of blankets and four camping chairs that Kristoff found in his closet—except that there's five of them and two people will have to share one, although Anna has already volunteered to sit on Elsa's lap because she is a selfless and generous friend. In the meantime, Eugene has pulled out a bottle of sparkling wine so that they can cheer to the New Year, whenever that is. Anna hasn't checked the time since they snuck out of the window.
"The cool thing about being up here," Eugene says, "Is that you don't need a fridge to keep this baby from getting warm."
But warm is exactly what Anna needs, so she's ignored everyone's alcoholic tendencies and made herself a hot chocolate that she's carried inside a thermos the same way Elsa did for them.
"Okay everyone," Rapunzel says, "We have like thirty minutes until midnight."
"What are we going to do until then?" Elsa asks.
"We should have brought UNO."
"And be hurled out of this rooftop by one of you? No thanks."
"You're just a sore loser," Anna tells Kristoff.
"I'm not the one giving out death threats to everyone who gives me a Draw Four."
"I didn't threaten to kill you."
"You did threaten to break up with me though," Elsa mumbles.
"Relax, people," Eugene cuts in, "I say we all take our chill pills and contemplate our existence instead."
Everyone stares at him but follows his lead when he looks up at the sky, where only a handful of stars can be seen through the glare of New York's city lights. Anna feels the arms around her tighten briefly before she looks down to find Elsa looking at her instead.
"Damn, that was depressing," Kristoff mumbles.
"Why?" Anna asks with genuine curiosity. She made amends but had not seen him since Elsa's birthday, at the small gathering they had after she and Elsa spent the day together, making up for the previous night by visiting some of the places her girlfriend had missed the most and ice skating at the Rockefeller Center. She'd invited Sasha to the party as well, and he'd fit right in. Like Rapunzel's long lost brother.
Back on the rooftop, Kristoff shrugs: "You know when you have no idea what you're doing with your life?"
"Dude," Eugene says, picking up a can of beer she did not know he'd brought with him. "We just graduated this year. I don't think many of us will have it together together for a few more years."
"You're one to talk. You just got a job at some fancy business firm. Rapunzel's doing her art thingy and she'll probably book another show soon for all we know. Anna is working for what's-his-name at a book agency and Elsa is a doctor—"
"I'm not—"
"That doesn't mean we have it together," Rapunzel cuts in.
"And I'm not exactly doing what I love," Anna adds.
He slouches, his bulky body sinking lower still into the chair. He then extends his arm towards Eugene to reach out for the beer and his friend complies without so much as a questioning look. In the distance, the booming sound of a single firework goes off while the sky remains nothing more than a black canvas.
"You wanna sing Kumbaya?" Anna asks.
Kristoff chuckles. He seems so tired all of the sudden that part of her wants to comfort him with a hug. She knows what he's feeling; she has recognized it too often in herself.
"One of these days I'm going to make you all sing Kumbaya for real, in the middle of the street, and none of you will get to say no."
"I'd like to see you try, wonder bread."
Elsa laughs at this. It is nearly a guffaw—short, loud and so out of character that she covers her mouth with her hand as soon as everyone turns to look at her.
"Sorry," she says, "That was just... funny."
Anna is overcome with so much sudden affection that her first reaction is to pull Elsa's face closer to her so that she can plant a smoldering kiss on her cheek. "You're so cute," she mumbles in between playful, chaste kisses that Elsa doesn't try hard enough to avoid.
A few minutes later and a dangerous attempt made by Rapunzel, Eugene pops the sparkling wine open. He serves it in colored plastic cups—yellow, purple, green, blue and something debatable between pink, orange and red—that remind Anna of the ones she used to have at home, back when she was something akin to eight years old.
"So what are the hopes for the new year?" Anna asks.
"To have it together together."
"That's deep, bro."
Her phone suddenly vibrates in her jeans and she twists on Elsa's lap to pull it out. It is Hans; not exactly the most unexpected of people at this point. She reads the message without unlocking the screen. It is a simple Happy New Year! that makes her pause for a moment before she puts the phone away.
"You're not going to answer?" Elsa asks.
Anna shakes her head. She's not making the same mistake twice. "It can wait."
Her girlfriend says nothing, and neither does her expression. It is blank without being hostile or closed off, but it is enough to make Anna shift the focus of the conversation. "It's your graduation this summer," she prompts.
Elsa nods slowly. "Crazy, right?"
"Are you excited?"
"Scared and excited. It is starting to get real."
Anna cradles her cheek with her left hand. The skin feels cold to the touch; like marble. "You're going to make a great doctor some day."
The blonde smiles before leaning in to capture her lips for a kiss she soon loses herself in. No matter how chaste, it is long and overwhelming, and Anna has to remind herself that they are not alone on this rooftop.
"In six more years or so," Elsa mutters after breaking the kiss.
"Let's take it one year at a time."
She grins playfully. "What other choice do we have?"
"Quit smooching over there!"
Anna pulls slightly back with a hearty laugh.
They don't realize it is midnight, and the beginning of a new year, until the sky lights up with fireworks and the streets down below suddenly come to life with thunderous celebrations. Beams reach out to the stars and loudly burst into greens, reds and yellows that illuminate the city, their reflections glittering on the surface of the Hudson River before leaving traces of smoke in their wake. The fireworks resume, over and over again in luminous sequences, as they all cheer and drink sparkling wine off their kiddie cups.
In the following minutes, every worry is forgotten. There is no room for it; no desire to dwell on uncertainties when the thought of a new year brings along new wishes and new goals to be set. And Anna figures, as she allows Elsa to pull her closer with a hand on the back of her neck, that all she wants for herself is to be happy, and to feel like she's making the right choices. None of it feels so far fetched after all. Not when her friends are right here with her, on a rooftop somewhere in Chelsea, infected by joy. And especially not when she feels Elsa's cold lips against her own, smiling softly before she deepens a kiss that steals her breath away.
Up in the sky, fireworks continue to explode one after the other as they both welcome the new year the same way they started the last one: in each other's arms.
The M train rattles against the rails in one soothing, repetitive motion as it crosses the borough of Queens.
Inside, Anna sits immersed in a book—a paperback with yellowy pages and a withered spine, and on its cover a painted portrait of Jane Austen. She bought it for a dollar at a bookstore in the Village. A dangerous affair that could have ended up with her buying too many books had she not been supervised.
Next to her, Elsa is resting her eyes. Classes have started already and so will rotations by the end of next week. Anna had suggested visiting Theo and then having dinner back in Manhattan, like a last source of distraction before things became too hectic for her. They'd called in advance to check if it was a good day for a visit and Theo had said yes, please. She would teach them how to make a mean hot toddy but could they stop by the grocery store for so and so ingredients?.. And don't forget the whiskey.
"Listen to this," Anna suddenly says, drawing Elsa's attention away from her beauty nap. "The distance is nothing when one has a motive... See? Lizzy gets me."
Elsa leans closer to take a look at the line she's just read out loud. "She walked three miles, Anna. Not flew to another continent."
She shrugs. "I'm pretty sure my life is a Jane Austen novel."
"Does that make me Mr. Darcy, then?"
"You're too nice to be Mr. Darcy."
"But he gets the girl in the end."
"Shit, that's true..."
The train goes on for two more stops before reaching the end of the line. It has started to snow this afternoon, a gentle fall that hits the pavement without making a sound. Snowflakes fall upon the skin of Anna's face as white blends in with the freckles on her nose and cheeks before becoming droplets that she barely perceives. She is swinging the grocery bag back and forth, mindful enough not to drop it and break the small bottle of whiskey inside, and overtly happy to finally be able to spend time with Elsa after barely seeing her at all for the past few days. It had been a busy start of the year for the two of them, with Elsa adjusting to her last semester of med school and Anna having a heavy workload with dozens of submissions and queries to go through with Hans.
"You know how gyms are always full at the beginning of January?" He'd said, "Every aspiring writer has the same resolution every single year."
This had not made typing rejection letters any easier for her.
They get to the senior center a few minutes later; the action of walking up its front path and signing up at its lobby almost a habit by now. When they enter the drawing room they are welcomed by familiar faces and before reaching Theo they take their time saying hi to everybody. The air is solemn around the holidays; quieter than usual. It is a room full of memories that carry the heavy weight of nostalgia on the shoulders of those who lived them.
Anna rushes to hug Theo first before allowing Elsa and her to have a moment, for it is the first time they see each other since Elsa's come back from London. She looks around in the meantime, wondering if perhaps they've missed Louie on their way over. The plastic bag is still dangling from her hand, and it isn't until Theo has asked if they found everything at the store that she lifts it up and finds out that the snow that once stuck to its surface has melted and started to drip onto the carpeted floor. Theo laughs at her sheepish expression before she reaches for her bedazzled cane (courtesy of Anna) and tells them to follow her to the kitchen.
"Where's Louie, though?" Anna asks, "I found this Beethoven CD the other day and I wanted to give it to him."
Theo stops and reaches for her hand in a soothing gesture that feels misplaced. "He's in the hospital, honey."
"What? Why?"
"Something to do with the lungs," she murmurs.
"Is it pneumonia?" Elsa asks, instinctively opening up her hand for Anna to hold.
"That sounds about right, hon."
They enter the kitchen, a space separate from the main area where the meals are cooked. It is cozy and impeccable, yet Anna barely pays attention to any of this.
"Is he going to be okay?"
As Theo reaches the counter, she lets out a sigh. "There is always hope," she tells them, but in the tone of her voice many things have gone unsaid.
The girls go silent. For several seconds the only sound that can be heard is the rustling of the plastic bag as Theo takes out its contents—black tea; cinnamon sticks; a squeezable honey bear; two lemons. The CD suddenly feels like an anchor inside Anna's bag while a tinge of sadness overcomes her. For a moment she's unsure of how to act, but Elsa is standing right there with her, and when she drapes an arm over her shoulders to pull her closer, Anna senses the quiet comfort granted by her presence.
When everything is out of the bag, Theo turns to them with a slightly sassy look. "Life is life, my loves," she says, "But mourning that knucklehead right now won't do nobody any good. He's still alive and kicking... Deaf, but kicking."
Her words are only mildly appeasing but the girls accept it with a small nod of their heads. He'll be okay, Anna thinks, in no time he'll be back to his stereo and his CDs, and he'll get to listen to his music with his old ear horn and hold his great grandson, too.
"Okay now," Theo says, "This recipe is so simple a monkey could do it but y'all better pay attention cause this soothes a cold better than any medicine you'll find at the pharmacy... No offense, doc."
Elsa grins. "None taken."
"I didn't know you guys could use the kitchen," Anna says as she watches her pour tap water in an electric kettle. She wants to help out and get handsy with the ingredients, but knowing herself and the fact that she has no idea what a hot toddy even is, it's probably best to stand by and watch.
"Limited access, sugar. Can't exactly cook a Thanksgiving meal but we can brew us some tea and Serge can hide his cookies in here." She then asks Elsa to cut the lemons and squeeze their juice into a glass. Upon seeing Anna pout, she gives a close-mouthed, hearty laugh. "You'll be our tester. That's the most important part."
Anna is content with that.
"Do you like cooking?" Elsa asks.
"I used to love it, but when you only have yourself to cook for, it loses its charm."
"That's what I always tell Elsa but she still asks what I've cooked myself for dinner and breakfast when she doesn't spend the night."
Elsa arches an eyebrow. "Can you blame me? You eat instant noodles for dinner."
She sticks her tongue out.
From the other side of Elsa, Theo laughs again while she pulls three ceramic cups out of the pantry. The cane Anna came to bedazzle one afternoon while Elsa was away stands unused in the corner. Her coral skirt sways to and fro and in her slow, calculated movements the kitchen becomes hers. The sight transports Anna to an alternative universe, where Theo has heaps of grandkids running around the room, asking for their grandma to make them something to eat. The house is warm from the golden light of a summer afternoon and Theo is back in the South surrounded by her family.
"Theo, do you ever wish you'd had kids?"
"I almost did, sugar, back when I was married. But I'm not sure I would'a made a great mom—could you pass me the whiskey, hon?"
"I beg to differ," Elsa says, passing over the small bottle and glancing back at the door as she does it. She's probably making sure no one comes in and finds an elder pouring whiskey in their teas.
"But why? You're like, super motherly with us."
"I was a different woman in my thirties." Theo begins adding two teaspoons of honey and two of lemon juice to every cup as she says this before she asks Anna to stir them, the liquid soon turning a rich, warm color and its scent opening up Anna's nostrils like she's just snorted menthol powder.
"Define different."
"I was too focused on my career and the success I wanted for myself." She adds a stick of cinnamon on each cup, lost somehow on the banality of the action before she says as an afterthought: "Some people ain't cut out to be a parent."
The thought of her parents soon crosses her mind but Anna does her best to shove it aside. It isn't much of a cheerful thought that one; not with the way she's been making up excuses not to have them come here; and not with the way she knows, deep down, that they haven't been trying hard enough in the first place.
"Would you have done anything differently back then?" Elsa asks.
"A lot of things," Theo says, "When you get to be my age you'll inevitably live with regrets but I'm learnin' to accept them by writing about them."
"Are you writing a book?" Anna asks with sudden fascination.
Theo laughs. "Not a book, honey, just some old-school journalin'." She suddenly takes hold of her hand and squeezes, her brown eyes gentle and serene. "One day I'll leave that journal to you. Maybe then, it can go out into the world."
Anna hugs her just because she can. She sees Elsa give her a smile from where she stands behind Theo before taking a step back and accepting the cup of hot toddy the elder hands over.
"Final verdict," she says, "But blow on it first cause it's hot."
Anna makes a face. She knows it's hot (has that stopped you before?) but she listens anyway and blows.
"She's always scalding her tongue," Elsa tells Theo, and really who needs an enemy when you have a loving girlfriend willing to call you out like this?
The tea: it is hot, but not scalding, and Anna tastes the honey before she savors the hint of whiskey combined with the zesty taste of the lemon and the aromatic flavor of the cinnamon. She suddenly wishes she had a cold to test the healing properties of this hot toddy drink, but alas, she is in perfect health.
She gives Elsa and Theo the thumbs up, too busy slurping to speak. Her girlfriend tries it next and her reaction is a similar one without the slurping. In the end, they make their way back to the drawing room and occupy the same space by the window that they always have. Anna feels the absence of Louie in the room like an indentation on her mood, even as she tries her best to hold on to the lighthearted nature of this snowy afternoon. Life is life, she thinks as she sighs and sits down on the chair. It is a downer and a wonder and everything in between, and what else is there for her to do other than accept the inevitability that it comes with a beginning and an end?
Theo settles in her own chair and gets comfy in it before she speaks. "Tell me everything about London, honey. And don't spare any details, not even the medical mumbo jumbo you think I won't understand."
"Well..." Elsa glances at her with a smile before she begins to talk about London with a subtle look of nostalgia in her eyes. Meanwhile, Anna goes on sipping her hot toddy in silence. The soothing sound of Elsa's voice quietens her mind, and today she is more than happy to sit back and listen.
March: with its shortened days and springtime forcing its presence through the bitter, cold days of winter.
The last couple of months have passed her by in a blur, as if she had done nothing more than act as a spectator of her own life; going along with it; not time for a stop. She has gone to work, Monday through Friday, a nine-to-five-sometimes-six. But regardless of what her friends might say, and what she may see in the quiet concern behind Elsa's eyes, there is a certain excitement in the job she does with Hans. It is trying at times, and sometimes demanding, but somewhere in the back of her mind Anna always reminds herself that this will all pay off in the future. Her parents may not have taught her how to ride the bike, or how to work through the painful, scarring years of algebra, or that she should separate her clothes when it comes to laundry, or that coffee isn't a breakfast meal, but they did teach her that hard work pays off. And deep down, as much as she finds it hard to admit, she still hopes that one day they will be proud of what she's accomplished.
And so it is, another day of hard work. Another late afternoon that finds Anna in the building's lobby, rearranging her scarf and donning a beanie so that she can step out into cold and head home.
"There's a party at the Ace Hotel tonight," Hans says as he buttons up his coat. "Wanna come?"
Anna doesn't think too much about this. It might be Friday but she is tired, hungry and all she wants to do is nothing.
So she smiles. "Maybe another time."
"Are you sure? They might have a chocolate fountain," he teases, "You can even bring your girlfriend if you want."
"She's doing rotations tonight."
He tsks. "That's a shame. It would have been nice chatting with her this time."
Anna says nothing in response; she feels like cringing.
The phone in his hands chimes with a notification and Hans glances at it before he turns to her with a charming smile. "Last chance," he singsongs.
She laughs out of politeness. "It's been a long week, I don't know how you still have the energy to party."
"The secret wonders of whiskey and good conversation," he smirks.
"If she doesn't want to go, she doesn't want to go, Zimmerman."
Anna turns around to find Lauren walking towards them, the sound of her high heels echoing against the walls of the lobby. She is fixing the lapels of her faux fur coat, lightly tousling her wavy, blonde hair in the process.
"Not all of us can enjoy parties as much as you do," she says once she's closer.
"Maybe that's the problem."
Lauren rolls her eyes. "Stop taunting her and get out of here," she jests, "And make sure you don't come back on Monday with a hangover."
Hans chuckles. He leaves the building after giving them a playful bow while Anna is left wondering if her boss is an alcoholic.
"Has he really come to work hungover?" She asks before she can stop herself.
"Never," Lauren says, "But a reminder never hurt anyone."
"That... makes sense."
Anna follows her out of the building and for some reason, when Lauren lingers, so does she.
"Hans is one of my best agents. He's ambitious and he has grit, and he always knows his way around a deal. That's why I brought him to New York."
"Lucky me," she murmurs absentmindedly.
Lauren stares at her for several seconds and under the scrutiny of her clear blue eyes Anna can feel herself blush. Standing next to her she feels inadequate all of the sudden; this woman with her fur coat and her preeminent aura and those heels that look a little too painful to tread on.
She wonders if she will ever be as distinguished as her.
"You're certainly lucky to be working under his wing," Lauren states, "That is, if your dream is to become an agent."
Anna frowns before she watches a black car pull over before them. She wishes she could ask for clarification, but the moment is gone almost as fast as it came and the chauffeur has already stepped off the car to open the door for Lauren.
"No need to rush, sweetheart, I'm already late."
"Where are you going?" Anna asks.
"A party," she says, a smile spreading across her face. "Have a good night, Anna."
With that, she steps inside the car and the door closes behind her, leaving Anna standing on the sidewalk, briefly observing her own reflection on the tinted window of the back seat.
She makes her way home with uncharacteristic quietness, without reading a single page of her book on the train, nor looking around at the curious wonders of New York City's streets. When she enters her apartment she does so in a strange state of despondency, discarding her shoes without looking where they land. The sound of a siren wafts in through the closed window as Anna pads her way over to her desk. She intends to take her journal with her but pauses when she catches sight of the Beethoven CD she'd bought for Louie all those weeks ago. It saddens her now. He did not make it.
She goes to sit on the bed without changing into anything more comfortable, the journal still in her hands. It is a Moleskine; deep green. Kristoff had given it to her for her birthday because he'd said she needed to write in style. Inside, it is blank except for the first few pages. She was supposed to fill it with entries, with prompts; with loose ideas that could make up a whole story. But instead it is full of empty, mocking space. And on the last entry, a taunting line:
What inspires me?
Anna reads it more than once, her index finger tracing over its answer like a gesture of melancholy. She reaches for the pen that she leaves on her nightstand before staring at the page. Nothing comes.
Love, she thinks. Elsa. She pictures Elsa doing rotations at the hospital right now, tired, but determined. She thinks of her and feels nothing but an overwhelming amount of love. Yet, not a single word comes.
What am I missing? She writes instead. How do I search for something I can't even recognize in myself?
Anna doesn't want to be a literary agent. She wants to be a writer. But the mere thought of it draws such a deep frustration out of her that she decides to put her journal down instead of chucking it across the room. She then covers her face and rubs the back of her eyelids until it stings. A sigh leaves her lips and the air, all of the sudden, feels a dozen times heavier.
She lies down only to curl up, her arms wrapping themselves around her knees. In a few hours Elsa will be here and maybe Anna will try to make dinner. She will find comfort in her, like she always has, and all of this will become nothing but a fleeting moment of sadness in the grand scheme of things.
Outside, it has started to snow again.