Notes:

Last edited on: October 28th, 2020

Verse 7: Stay With Me

Four beats, make it to the second slide, switch it to two beats, and then leap. She pictures an apparition, dispersing it through her fingertips, pulling the strings that give life to the verse of her soul.

Maren finds herself.

But it's never enough. She leads herself to the succor of others, attaching to their strings, reveling in their aria until they become one in chorus.

Yet it lingers—the monster of expectations that threaten to devour her in each step she takes.

All it takes is one slip and she'll be left behind.

So she works harder, pushing through each jump and polishing every turn. She is grateful to the promised cadence and clings to it like a lifeline. No matter the outcome, she takes a chance to see beyond that reverie she yearns for.

Out of everyone, only Anna has led her to euphoric synchrony.

Anna seemed sporadic when they first met, bearing a clumsiness you'd never expect from an adept performer. She was eighteen when Maren entered her orbit. Quirky, bright, and always wearing an alluring smile—she was like the sun, with energy that assured Maren's own, both on and off the dance floor.

Time after time, it pulls in Maren. And like a vow, Anna would meet her.

Where was she again? Half beat... no, quarter beat...? Then, lift here. She dives further, savoring the familiar tang of sweet strawberry, enrapturing her as always. Anna welcomes her in, their tongues colliding in soft harmony. She feels quivering lips as she caresses behind Anna's ear.

A small whine hums through Maren's senses as she bites the plump of Anna's lower lip.

Anna curls, the tremor of her core thrumming under Maren's touch. "Let's get out of here." She looks at Maren, eyes dilated.

Teal orbs that Maren used to never run away from. She almost gives into them.

Yet once more, they hold her back. Platinum wisps that touch the smile of her eyes, affectionate fingers that would comb away her worries, vanilla trails that remind her she has a home; pieces of Elsa she has tucked away, enclosed in the corner of her heart. She would always be there, beckoning her over, enough to make her ache.

"I can't. I'm broke."

"I can pay."

Maren inches away, untangling herself from Anna's arms. "I can't be home too late."

"...What?"

"I don't want to worry her." Maren leans back by the staircase of an alley they've been occupying for the past hour. The ground is cold underneath her palm.

Anna stares back at her, broken away from their moment. She knows.

"Maren," Anna hisses in a strained voice, "my brother is dating Elsa."

"I know."

"Then what the hell are you doing?"

Maren sighs. She wants to run again, back home into those arms, away from this cruelty that suffocates her. "I can go with you, but only for thirty minutes. Or should I just do you here, right now? While nobody's arou—"

It's too late for her to dodge it. The hard leather bottom of her backpack scrapes her cheek, not enough to draw blood, but it still stings.

Anna stands up. "You're a fucking jerk."

Maren catches the suspended tears in Anna's eyes before she sees her pace down the stairs. Her silhouette drowns in the street crowd, her every step leaving Maren rooted in place.

Even when Elsa is not around, she can sometimes feel it: Elsa's fingers running through her hair as stories about the daily mundane lull her away in comfort. She wonders how long she can keep that happiness to herself. The uncertainty of it continues to grow, wrapping around her heart.

And so Maren continues to dance.

"Anna's pissed at you, huh."

"Mhm." Maren bends forward, stretching her right leg. She peeks sideways at her fellow dancer.

With a lanky build bearing a few inches taller than her, Ryder is popular for his pretty face and charisma, framed by his dark shaggy hair kept in place by a beanie he's never seen without. People often mistook them for siblings, with their shared physical features and their hometown, where their families live a few blocks apart from each other in the southern part of North Uldra. He has become like a younger brother to her in the past few months, with his playful and somewhat clingy nature touching her soft spot.

"I don't get it, why don't you just say no to her advances?"

Maren stretches her other leg. "I don't have it in me. And she doesn't get it. We can keep up what we have, but nothing more than that." I mean, we already tried it. "I can't give her the extent of what she wants."

"Uhuh." Ryder leans back on the wall mirror. "Then, what about that lady you live with?"

Maren relaxes from stretching. "How much did Anna tell you?"

"Well, she kinda bitched about you just being an overall jerk, but not much else. And you're still staying with that nice lady who took you in months ago. I just pieced the two together." Ryder sits beside her and stretches.

Maren snickers. "I'm not dating my roommate if that's what you're wondering. We're..." Friends? Acquaintances? She's given up putting a label on whatever she has with Elsa.

Besides, the one she craves remains out of reach.

"I don't really know how to word it… but I'm her tranquilizer."

Maren has always been an early riser. On the weekends, she's up as early as seven. She would go to the bathroom, drink some water in the kitchen, jog for an hour around their neighborhood, and do her light stretching back at her loft before returning under her covers.

Then Elsa wakes up.

Maren listens to her get ready, preparing their brunch for the day, its scent filling the apartment. She pretends to be asleep as she hears Elsa call her name from below, sometimes accompanied with a sigh, which makes her smile because she knows what comes next: Elsa's footsteps coming closer as she hears her climb up, crawling to Maren's side, waking her up one more time. Maren would feel Elsa's fingertips brush away her messy fringe, tickling her heart, completing the start of her day.

Today, she doesn't go to practice.

"Is this okay?" Elsa pushes one of her sofas towards the wall, making more space for Maren's mat.

"Yeah, it's great, thanks." Maren stretches both her legs until they make a perfect split, then bends her body forward, her chest touching the floor. She can feel Elsa's eyes on her back.

"You sure are flexible."

Maren rises and grins. "I'd be in trouble if I wasn't."

Skipping sessions is acceptable if you have committed to attending later on with the extra lessons. Maren tries to avoid this to not pile them up and burn herself out, but for today, she wants to avoid something else. Or rather, a certain someone. Coward.

Before she chastises herself further, she tunes into the noise from the TV instead.

"Continuing the ongoing mission to supply provisions for the Southern States that suffered from Hurricane Gale, the Ministry of Education, on behalf of the Northern States, has presented supplementary reading and classroom materials, held on a special event in Puerto Lobos. Attendees comprise almost a hundred, including teachers and principals from public schools around the area alongside representatives from the Ministry, including Deputy Secretary Edward Tremaine."

The report seems to have caught Elsa's attention, who has placed her duster down to increase the volume. A well-dressed bearded man in his fifties is now in focus, with his brown and grey locks gelled in place.

"'We're proud of our commitment and shared goal to keep this project running, and to further improve the quality of education for all children not just in Puerto Lobos, but for nearby islands as well.' Secretary Edward has raised almost 120 million crowns for the project…"

"They better spend it on the right things," Elsa quips as she returns to her dusting.

"Not impressed?"

"Hard to be, especially when you've been groped by the deputy secretary himself."

Maren almost falls from her side planking. "W-what!? How? Where? When?" She gives up and sits upright, sudden annoyance building up inside of her.

Elsa sighs. "I met him at a conference four years ago, right when I just started working. I was networking around during the after-party. He was a bit drunk, I guess. We were at a table sitting together, then he reached around and I jumped up."

"And?" Maren stands up and follows Elsa to the kitchen area.

"He kept insisting he just touched my back, so I replied, a little loudly, that he was touching my ass instead."

"Oh my God."

"And, that was apparently not enough to stop him." Elsa grabs a spray bottle from the cupboard and fills it with water. "He was about to push himself on me, so, well, I punched him before he could."

"No way."

"They were desperate to keep me quiet. They even offered monetary compensation. I couldn't be bothered at the time, so I just kept quiet." Elsa walks over to the kitchen counter, where two small pots of sweet violets sit. "Your brows are gonna join into one."

"Wh— I'm pissed! I can't believe they asked you to keep quiet!"

"There's nothing I can do about it. He's not just some deputy secretary, he's a Tremaine, and that could mean years of involvement in a case over a small incident."

You were harassed! "But—"

"I can handle myself. Anyway, what do you want for dinner?"

"Uh... I'm good with anything." Maren watches Elsa water the pots' soil with care. She's gotten a hold of Elsa's mood on whether she wants to keep a topic going or not, which can go sour if she steps too far. She plays along, noticing the distant look Elsa is holding towards the tiny buds of sweet violets.

The next morning, Elsa wakes up from a bad dream. Or at least that's what Maren assumes. It's usually the case when the first thing she sees is her scrunched up face, lost in thought while turning the coffee machine on.

"Didn't sleep well?"

"Hardly." Elsa takes a sip before continuing. "I… dreamt about Nils."

"Ah, the ex. Don't worry, that's just your brain fucking with you, it's more common than you think."

Nils works in their IT department. Or used to, with his departure mentioned at work last week. Elsa told Maren the story of how she'd met Nils a few years ago, a random click she hadn't expected to happen over an after-work dinner that had revolved around conspiracy theories. The relationship seemed to work, even when Elsa was aware of Nils' inferiority complex not dissipating over the years. Or so Elsa thought before Nils came clean to her about his infidelity on the night she expected to receive a proposal.

During their time of living together for three months, Maren has seen these glimpses of Elsa's past. She wonders if Elsa is the same as her; someone who has a hard time letting go and is only ever good at running away.

Wanting to cheer Elsa up, Maren digs into the kitchen drawers.

"What are you looking for?"

"Oh, this pack of jasmine tea I got as a gift from the studio. I've never had it before… aha!" Maren picks up a yellow tin box with intricate designs of orange flowers and Eastern characters. "I think this is, uh, traditional, so I don't really know how to prepare it?"

"It's easy." Elsa prepares two mugs and a pitcher of boiling water. "It should blossom into a little flower." She puts a jasmine flower in a mug and pours the water in it.

Maren watches over, seeing the petals unveil themselves, one by one. "Oh, there it goes!"

"It's quite slow, but it's lovely, isn't it?" Elsa smiles as she prepares the other mug, giving it to Maren.

They relax in their seats, enjoying the aroma of sweetness and floral scent enveloping them.

It takes a moment for Maren to notice that Elsa has been staring at her. She doesn't get her chance to ask as Elsa goes back to her drink in an instant, but she's not sure if it's the intoxicating scent that caused Elsa's cheeks to color in the shade of roses.

Elsa isn't an alcoholic, but there are a few nights when she does drink a lot, and it's when Maren knows that Elsa's desperate to let go of things weighing on her mind. Maren doesn't drink at all, and the sentiment of forgetting through alcohol is lost on her. She's seen old friends and past flings inhale drinks to prove it works for them, but she'd never dare to leave herself in such a vulnerable state.

Loud clangs in the hallway interrupt Maren's thoughts.

It's a late Friday night so Maren knows what to expect. Tonight, however, Elsa is more wasted than usual, huddled up on the floor when Maren meets her.

"Hey, you okay?"

"…hnn… toilet…"

"Wait, your heels—" Maren follows Elsa, who has stood up, stumbling towards the bathroom. Inside, she watches her kneel in front of the toilet bowl, retching out whatever she had that day.

Elsa's hair bun loosens after the third heaving, and Maren walks over to sweep aside her hair, holding it back as she rubs circular motions on Elsa's back.

"I'll help you to bed, you should get some rest."

"I… want to take a bath…"

"I don't think you should—"

"I want to clean up!" Elsa starts taking off her suit, then her polo shirt, prompting Maren to step out.

Feeling worried as Elsa can barely stand, Maren sticks around outside the sliding door, leaning against the opposite wall as she listens to the running water and Elsa's movements.

Maren was right. It only takes a few minutes until she hears a loud thud.

She rushes off to collect towels and heads inside, seeing Elsa's naked body curled up inside the tub, shivering. She turns off the shower and dries Elsa off, wondering where she will carry her until she remembers the large Tyrian purple blanket in the living room, the same one she woke up in on the first morning she spent in Elsa's home.

After spreading the blanket on the sofa, Maren returns to the bathroom and carries Elsa out of the tub, steeling her mind from the softness of her milky white skin under her touch. She tightens her grip, afraid of her smaller build giving out, though in tender closeness as she hears Elsa's fatigued murmurs. She wonders for a moment if Elsa is awake enough to feel the drumming of her chest.

Maren lays Elsa down on the sofa and wraps her in the blanket, checking her head for any injury. Her eyes flutter awake.

"How many fingers can you see?"

"Two…"

"Good." Maren caresses the side of Elsa's head. "I think you have a small lump."

"…You know, it's not like I've always been good at cooking."

"Hm?"

"I didn't want people to think I just focused on work and studying. That… I can also do different things. I wasn't just one thing they labeled me with. To be honest, I was desperate."

Maren sits on the floor by Elsa's side.

"Maren?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you ever hate and envy other people?"

"Well…" Maren readjusts her position. "…of course. Especially when I'm judged because of where I come from. And I can't help but be jealous of people who have more than me, in talent, money, or whatever.

"It can't be helped with the world we live in, but I like to think that people like that have their own problems to deal with too. You can't change things out of your control, especially with envy or hatred. In the end, it's all about fighting with yourself… right?"

Elsa turns towards her direction, still laying on her back, but now with eyes closed.

"Are you asleep? You'll catch a cold if we don't get you to bed—"

"Perhaps I should just… live with you for the rest of my life…"

Elsa says the words like an honest declaration, with a face of serenity that puts Maren in a stupor.

Maren does the only thing she can think of doing next.

She moves in and puts her lips on Elsa's.

Elsa doesn't reject her.

It's like that jasmine flower. Softening and opening as each petal unveils itself, one by one. Let time stand still, and let this be the only thing that Maren feels.

But Maren knows she can't have that wish. She's not surprised when Elsa abruptly pushes her back and stands up. She can see the rose tint on Elsa's cheeks, spreading out to the tip of her ear.

"I… I need sleep."

Maren watches as Elsa walks to her room, dragging the blanket wrapped around her. The bedroom door is already closed when Maren notices the ends of the blanket trapped under it.

She walks over. Maren can feel Elsa standing on the other side of the door, her warmth and doubt penetrating the distance. A few minutes pass and neither of them moves from their spot. Maren waits for Elsa's decision, though she wonders if she should open the door and make the decision herself.

In the end, she doesn't, and they continue the dance around this moratorium.

The next weekend, Maren answers the door to find Nils on their doorstep.

Nils is an awkward guy with dirty blonde hair parted in the middle and is always seen with thick-rimmed glasses that fit his square-shaped face. He's of short and lean stature, around Maren's height. He's not bad-looking by any means, but Maren can understand how his inferiority complex shows, not from his appearance, but by the way he carries himself in public.

Maren isn't sure how to handle this, so she goes back inside calling for Elsa. She sees her at the balcony, tending to her collection of plants, wearing gloves dirtied by soil. Elsa fiddles with her braid, irritated at first when she hears about Nils at the door but lets him in with a defeated sigh in the end.

"I thought you threw out everything I gave you." Nils walks into the dining area, illuminated by the midday sun coming through the balcony's opening. He looks at the small pots of sweet violets sitting in a corner, right beside bigger pots of new guinea impatiens and hibiscus flowers, which Elsa was tending moments ago.

Elsa stays in silence, brooming the dirt off the floor.

"Don't worry, I won't be long. I just wanted to see you before I leave the city."

"I don't have anything to talk about with you."

Maren takes that as her cue to give them space, but she lingers close enough to eavesdrop.

"I didn't know you had a guest today. I didn't mean to intrude—"

"She's living with me."

"Sorry?"

Elsa stands up, wiping dirt off of her apron. "We're living together. Rather, I'm letting her live with me. I take care of her food and everything."

It stuns Maren. Has she lost it!?

"Oh, I don't know what to say." Nils crosses his arms, dismay seeping in his voice. "Isn't this inappropriate? Isn't she working under you right now? Elsa, this isn't you. Was my… was my affair that much of a shock to you?"

"…What?"

"Isn't she taking advantage of your kindness? She's leeching off you! You should be careful of people like her, who give up their pride to get what they want. And… and she might be from some secret gang of North Uldrans—"

"I dare you to finish that sentence." Elsa walks inside the dining area, closing the balcony's sliding doors. Even from afar, Maren can sense the anger radiating from Elsa's every movement.

"I dare you to say another thing about her. I don't know about this pride you're talking about, but I'll tell you what." Elsa stares hard into Nils's eyes. "A man who's confident about himself doesn't care about where people stand.

"You always used to say, oh, you're so lucky, you're so smart, you went to such a great uni, your pay's so good, you have it so easy, how lucky! You never considered how sick and tired I was of hearing that bullshit from everyone. And in the end, you ran away! Some pride you have.

"All you could do was envy what others have without doing anything about it, drowning yourself in self-pity, never considering my feelings, not even once. And Maren… is leagues ahead of you in that way."

Silence descends in the room, and Maren can see Elsa cooling down. Opposite of her, Nils looks defeated.

"It's… as you say." Nils lets out a breath he's holding. "But I'm glad… to hear your honest opinion. When we broke up, you never said a thing like this. We didn't even fight or argue. It's bothered me ever since."

He gathers himself and heads towards the hallway. "I'll be off then."

Maren catches him by the door. "Wait."

Nils turns reluctantly to face her.

"The reason I stick around is simple. It's not about pride or confidence. I just want to be next to her, and she lets me. That's all."

Maren shuts the door and returns inside. She sees Elsa crouching outside the balcony, the smallness of her back making Maren's heart swell.

Elsa's words from the other night come back to her. They never talked about it, nor the kiss, and it's hard to take Elsa seriously when she's drunk anyway.

But Maren is sure of one thing.

"Elsa." Maren joins her and looks out to the city. "You know, I'll stay here until you tell me to leave."

"Don't be silly."

"I'm serious."

"…even if it's for a few years?"

"Yep." Maren peeks at Elsa, whose loose bangs shine under the sun, her side braid exposing the outline of her nape in elegance. She seems to be making an effort to hide her face, which Maren thinks is pointless.

Maren will always see her.

"Even if I turn into a granny?"

A joke, though with a tinge of shyness that attempts to hide the sincerity of the question. And Maren knows the answer. From behind, she wraps her arms around Elsa, hugging her close as if to never let go.

"Even if you turn into a granny."