Characters belong fully to Disney and I do not own anything... obviously.
PART 1
Most of the time the universe speaks to us very quietly: In pockets of silence; in coincidences; in nature; in forgotten memories; in the shape of clouds; in moments of solitude; in small tugs at our hearts.
—Yumi Sakugawa
.
I know I'm going to love you without questions.
I know you're going to love me without answers.
—Mario Benedetti
The first thing Anna notices when she steps out into the summer breeze of August is just how uncharacteristic of New York this rooftop is. Merely five floors tall, the building is a dwarf of bricks that stands among giants of steel. Anna's expectation goes from a speakeasy rooftop bar with the facade of an abandoned building, to the reality of a plain, abandoned building. "My dad just bought this like last week." Kristoff half-pants, half-mutters behind his shoulder as they both struggle to climb the battered stairs that lead to a cement covered space at the top of what used to be a cluster of offices with a broken elevator. Jewish immigrants and the garment industry somewhere in the 20th century, he mumbles. It is late afternoon; the sky is being painted with a burning orange that slowly fades into a chalky blue, while the gleaming of the city lights begin to make themselves ready for another nighttime show against the stars in the sky.
The occasion: a birthday celebration. Kristoff is turning twenty one and instead of a drunken weekend parade to Las Vegas filled with alcohol he has been tasting since the tender age of sixteen, he's opted for a casual gathering of friends in some random rooftop of his beloved city. Where did Anna fit in all this? The answer lay entwined in almost three years of memories. She met Kristoff during her first winter of college before the Christmas break, placing him in a memory spattered with red noses and numb fingers, and a round of hot chocolates for those who'd had to stay late studying for finals. Anna, Kristoff and a bunch of bleary eyed NYU students had ended up kicking snow and playing slippery tag in Washington Square Park, exams all but forgotten. That was the conception of the most valuable friendship Anna has had in her elongated, short life. It had been Kristoff, after all, the first to sense—and the first to appease—her hesitancy at coming out (What did you think I was going to do? Throw a bible at you?). The first to make her walk twenty blocks at midnight to find the best bao in Chinatown; to show up at her door unannounced in the middle of the night, disoriented and grieving over the loss of his mother. The first to dedicate a drunken karaoke song to her, and the first to make her feel like family could exist without the need of shared blood.
So what if the Manhattan rooftop bar she was expecting is, in fact, an abandoned rooftop with two large folding tables toppling with alcohol and Ruffles bought at the bodega from across the street. Anna had grown used to Kristoff and the simplicity of his plans, and she had come to embrace it.
Guided by a bulky arm around her shoulders, the pair strides to a great total of four people gravitating around the bowl of chips like planets around the sun.
"Anna's here!" Kristoff exclaims, even though the redhead is already finishing greeting the group. A fumbling of hands, really, as lighthearted and carefree as Anna feels around them.
"Have a beer, dude." Ali, Aladdin, her dearest when it comes to sneaking around the answers of an exam. "We were just wondering when you would show up."
Anna rolls her eyes but accepts the opened bottle of Stella. "I got stuck waiting for the train. I think it would have been faster if I had walked."
"You should have stayed at mine." Kristoff mumbles, a fist sized portion of ruffles in his mouth.
The redhead nods absentmindedly, unsure of how to reply. It's not that she was busy, but lately she has been trying to get over a bitch of a writer's block that embarrasses Anna enough to keep silent about needing to stay home an extra hour to stare at the wall, waiting for words to come out of thin air. So instead, she fishes for a change of topic.
"You weren't kidding when you said small gathering."
At that, Shang laughs and pats Kristoff on the back. Shang, the gentleman, on whose back Anna once jumped when she was too drunk to think straight and demanded to be carried like a princess bride to her apartment on the third floor. Shang, the charming young man for whom mothers and grandmothers alike wistfully sigh, knowing it is too late for them but perhaps not so for their daughters and granddaughters. He who couldn't refuse Anna anything and had effortlessly carried her all the way to her bed that same night. "It won't be this small, we made sure of that."
"We also made sure," Aladdin cuts in, "to invite someone just for you, dear Anna." His mischievous grin lets on more than she wishes to know.
Anna's face gives nothing away as she deliberately turns around and begins strutting back to the fire exit. "Yeah, okay, no. Happy birthday, Kristoff." She mutters.
Shang, Aladdin, as well as Eric and Eugene all make a hasty attempt to catch her before she escapes, but it is Kristoff who catches up the fastest before hooking an arm around the redhead's waist and whipping her back around. "You are not going anywhere!"
"Let me go!" Anna's voice reaches half a shriek, half a whine. Her right hand makes sure not to drop her beer even as she smacks the arm around her waist.
"It's time for you to get out there and rock some girl's world." Kristoff grunts.
"I already tried that once. It was awful."
Eric's chuckle intervenes in the exchange. "We all know how that turned out, Anna. But this isn't high school. Besides," he shows her the red cup holding his rum and coke, "alcohol will make it easier."
"How is that supposed to make me feel better? If you guys remember correctly, last time I tried talking to a girl while drunk she ended up having to call a cab on me because I was throwing up in the bathroom." It had been the damn whiskey, Anna is sure of it now. That and her friends' idiotic insistence that she talk to the girl who kept glancing her way from across the bar. Liquid courage or not, she made a clumsy fool of herself on a daily basis and that night had been no exception.
"Look Anna," Eugene says only half seriously, failing to stop the smile from breaking on his face, "the point is not in getting so drunk that you can barely stand, but drinking enough to let some of your guard down. You gotta use it to your advantage, not let it control you."
It is so cynical to realize it is alcohol they are discussing when Eugene sounds like a twisted therapist on the verge of convincing his patient to turn into a functioning alcoholic. Besides, the more they push, the more reluctant she's beginning to feel. She's come to celebrate Kristoff's birthday, to drink some and have fun, not to drink some and meet a girl. Anna has been single for the better part of, well, her entire life. She fell in love only once, when the idea of liking girls was barely threading through her mind; the situation turning out as disastrously as young, nonreciprocal love can end. It wasn't until she moved to New York with a clean slate that she learned the taste of a kiss from another girl's lips; that she groped other college girls in tentative exploration, mostly with the aid of alcohol to numb her system. Yet, never has Anna felt courageous enough to jump at the chance of having a real relationship with somebody. She was scared of the vulnerability that entailed even if the exhilaration of real love kept her subconsciously wishing that perhaps the next person she met could be the one. However, despite her own inconspicuous hope, the thought of a girl suggested by a hoard of testosterone didn't ring well in Anna's mind.
"Look guys, I'm just here to have fun. I won't push anything that feels forced, so you guys better not push it either."
Kristoff holds his hands up in surrender. "We won't, I promise." He grins, "This girl, though..."
Anna rolls her eyes and takes the bitterness of this loss with another sip of her beer. "Okay, Kristoff."
As the evening begins to thread on the edge of night, Kristoff's casual celebration goes from a six people gathering to a full blown party. Just like most social events in this god forsaken city, Anna thinks. You're hanging out with somebody that night who so happens to know somebody else who's either attending or having a party at that exact same moment. It takes little to agree to these kinds of happenstances, really, whether you want to network or get laid, promote a track you've been working on inside that shoe box of an apartment, or get to meet someone who will finally give you the big break you've been dreaming of. All is possible in the city that never sleeps since it's probably too high on caffeine and coke, anyways. You could leave it to fate or luck, but perhaps there is a reason so many movies show these kinds of scenes in cities like this, Anna contemplates, while she opens her second bottle of Stella and observes the people laughing and sharing words incomprehensible to her ears beneath the beat of the music. Anything could happen when you're thrown in a mix of people uninhibited by alcohol (and one or two Adderalls), with dozens of different stories and opinions. Your life could change in a matter of a conversation. It was all so passively thrilling; like a petri dish of people searching for their own meaning in the words of the person across from them.
"Anna!" it is Kristoff again, breaking her out of her thoughts. He sounds sober, but Anna knows better. Kristoff becomes mellower after a few drinks, like he can only manage his alcohol by shutting down the rest of his brain. Next to him stands a charming girl, with chestnut-colored locks falling off to one side of her shoulders and a shy smile that borders on sly. A short yellow dress adorns her body like paint and Anna has to stop herself from adverting her eyes lower than her collar bones. She can vaguely recognize her from somewhere, but before she can find the answer a hand stretches out in front of her.
"Hi, I'm Belle." The brunette's eyes briefly reflect the lights surrounding them, her smile widening as Anna shakes her hand, slightly embarrassed. "Hi, I'm—," a throat clearing, "I'm Anna."
She can feel her cheeks grow warm, her self-consciousness already nagging at the back of her head. Kristoff is being embarrassing just by standing there with his idiot's smile and proud stance, and Anna can't help but cringe internally at this whole situation. She knows the sole reason this girl is standing before her is because of her friends' already failed attempt at getting her out of her shell. And boy will it fail. Not because of a pretty girl interested enough in spending the night by her side, drinking out of a red cup and pretending to follow Anna's random rants about life, and people and inconsequential matter, but because Anna just can't do this. She can't bring herself to ask rather than just talk, to do what young adults do best and flirt Belle's panties off; to spend a night getting to know about her family and her fears, or perhaps what she would like to do in the near future and whether Anna could picture herself in it already.
Was there an exit for moments like this?
"Do you, uh, go to NYU? I feel like I've seen you somewhere before." She says at last. Too late to make a run for it now.
"I just transferred on a scholarship to finish an English Major. You may have seen me in the library, I never leave that place." Belle smiles casually.
The answer to Anna's question is there, at least. "Right! You tutor as well, I've seen you in the cubicles."
Belle nods excitedly, but before she can say anything else the gods of heterosexuality give Anna the miracle she didn't know she was praying for. A man with long, dirty blond hair appears from behind Belle before he wraps his muscular arms possessively around her waist, clearly more suspicious of Kristoff than Anna. The situation doesn't turn any less awkward when her best friend shows more disappointed than herself, making Anna inadvertently roll her eyes even as relief spreads inside her chest. These guys couldn't even bother finding out if she was straight.
The brunette acknowledges her boyfriend with a loving pat on his forearms, "This is Adam, by the way."
Anna's smile becomes as genuine as it can get while she introduces herself once more, her face breaking into a grin when she watches Kristoff struggle to compose himself and shake the confusion out of his face, too bothered to mirror the cordiality.
"Nice meeting you, Anna. Are you two together?" Adam inquires.
That is a first. Kristoff scrunches his face and Anna lets out the tension she's been holding with the bark of a laugh. The whole situation has made a turn so far away from what her friends had intended that she feels her whole body relax, no longer having to picture herself next to Belle for the rest of the night.
"She's my best friend." Kristoff states defensively. Whether because he's mentally cringing at the idea of being romantically involved with Anna or because the assuming tone in Adam's voice seems to belittle his capacity of earning the attention of someone like Belle. Anna knows better than to consider the first option, which causes her to jump to his defense.
"If only I were so lucky!" She exclaims.
Taking hold of his arm, she begins pulling him away from the bewildered couple. "Now if you'll excuse us, I gotta pee and he's gotta keep celebrating his birthday... Nice meeting you Belle!" Without waiting for a reply, she leads Kristoff away, knowing they will probably miss them for the rest of the party. But Anna doesn't regret that one bit. The beauty and the douche, Anna thinks. It isn't until they are out of the couple's sight that Anna lets go of her best friend and smacks the back of his head.
"Ouch! Okay, I'll take the blame for that one," he has the decency to look sorry. "You should hit Shang too, he's the one with shitty gaydar."
Anna crosses her arms. "I'll hit all of you once I find the rest." The threat is real, despite having to admit to herself that it could have gone much worse than that. "Please tell me this is the last time you guys try to set me up with someone."
The defeated look on Kristoff's face almost makes Anna feel sorry for him. Almost. "Alright, I'm sorry... we just wanted to see you happy."
"I am happy."
"You know what I mean."
The genuine concern in her best friend's eyes sends a rush of affection through Anna's heart that causes her to throw her arms over Kristoff's shoulders. As disastrous as her friends' attempts have always been, Anna knows they meant well, which is what's stopped her from ever being truthfully angry at them. They are clumsy in their selections and infinitely awkward in how they carry the task, but beneath Anna's constant mortification, she has to admit there lay gratitude and fondness.
"I do have to pee." She whispers in his ear after a few seconds pass in their embrace.
Kristoff's laughter rings in her ears before he squeezes her affectionately and lets her go. "I'll see you later then." He treads away, looking for a familiar face elsewhere.
To her dismay, Anna quickly finds out from Eugene (after smacking him on the head) that the closest bathroom is in the bodega from which they bought half of the alcohol provided at the party, which means that Anna has to go down, jaywalk back-to-back across the street and climb again the stairs she's already dreaded once. Who has a party without a bathroom? It makes Anna wonder if she should just go potty and go home, the temptation of laziness calling to her like a naked lover in bed. Anna rolls her eyes. Nonsensical analogies aren't going to make her go faster and it's not like her knowledge of lovers reaches that far to begin with. Besides, she is enjoying herself despite not talking to many people outside of her small circle of friends. There is a certain kind of pleasure that Anna finds in being in a crowded place simply observing others interact. Like watching dozens of scenes unfolding within the same movie; made up stories sprouting in Anna's head like sparks in a burning fire.
She makes her way towards the fire exit, catching a few conversations as she goes. "—I told him, if you wanna get serious you need to give me your Netflix password."... "The laundromat across from me closed down because they were selling molly—"... "I had a crisis so I traveled to India for a silent retreat—" "Cool, my midlife crisis consisted of fifteen plus pounds and a tattoo on the ass."
Anna chugs the rest of her second beer and leaves the empty bottle by the exit, hoping her system will process it fast enough so that she can pee everything out and start her third beer on an empty bladder. The logic of nonsense. As she saunters down the concrete stairs she notices the few random strings of globe lights along the way and wonders how the hell Kristoff had thought of that and not a bathroom. She feels grateful, however, for the lights that undoubtedly save her from a fall in the dark as she approaches the landing on the third floor.
The hushed sound of voices hits her ears and Anna senses her approach before she sees her. With her eyes looking down at the steps she is taking she is unable to see but the tip of a black boot nearing the floor she is standing on. Her gaze makes the slow way up, registering as it goes, a pair of toned legs clad in tight, faded jeans; a lean torso covered by a plain white shirt, and slender shoulders framed by a black leather jacket. The moment Anna meets with a pair of blue eyes that burn under the cheap orange lights, her feet stop and her breath gets caught in her throat; if only just for a moment. Because that is all it takes, a minuscule fraction in time that carries a certain recognition that the heart knows but the mind refuses to understand. It takes a second for the girl standing before her to step aside, with an unfathomable expression on her face but without being able, as well, to tear her eyes away from Anna. The redhead forces her feet to move, not wanting to prolong this moment in silence but unable to say a thing. Passing by this girl makes Anna more nervous than she recalls ever being, and tearing her eyes away from hers feels like losing the faint touch of an exhilaration she's never felt before.
One, two, three steps down she moves until she hears the girl's ignored companion calling out her name. "Elsa!" She can't see it anymore but the inflection on that single word makes Anna believe that she is still being stared at. A shuffling of boots on concrete, a second pair of shoes moving again and the sound of retreating steps is muted by the pounding of Anna's heart in her ears. Elsa. The girl had faintly smelled of mint and jasmine and, for some reason, that makes Anna smile nervously. When has she ever paid any real attention to the way people smelled, let alone make her want to recall the scent over and over again like a newbie addict looking for more. The cacophony of New York hits her all at once; strangers stride past her without a single glance, taxis honk with no real purpose and the bodega across from her glares its neon lights like a beacon in the young night. It suddenly hits her that this girl, Elsa, is heading to the party she has just left and any thought of heading home vanishes from her mind. An intoxicating rush that she can't control reverberates in her chest. Unfounded as it is, for Anna has no real reason to be this excited about a stranger she has just shared eye contact with for five seconds. But this feels painstakingly different somehow, like a shock inside her body or an earthquake within her that lasts enough beats to change the way things had been constructed in her mind. Like the stories she has read over and over again in solitude; like the ones she craves to write about but knows nothing of. Whether or not she can do a damn thing once she gets back on the rooftop is another matter completely, but Anna feels giddy by the mere prospect of sharing the space with someone who is capable of making her knees shake with a single look.
Anna can't pee fast enough.
Hamid is kind enough to let Anna use the employee restroom after telling her that the bodega's customer restroom is out of service. How the hell will the dozens of people find their way to another bathroom is not something Anna wishes to ponder over. She figures the most sober ones will eventually leave at that and the drunkest ones will... find a way.
On her way out she buys a bag of Skittles and crams it inside the breast pocket of her jean jacket. When she became acquainted with alcohol so many moons ago, she discovered that the more buzzed she got, the bigger her cravings turned for something sweet. And while Anna isn't exactly yay for Skittles, she also knows that she can't exactly show back up with a slice of chocolate cake in her hand; that would raise too many questions and Anna is not willing to share.
The small gathering turned rooftop party is just as she left it, except that now she opts for scanning the crowd with a more specific purpose. The beat goes on: a few girls with abysmal dancing skills are approached by a grinning Aladdin; alcohol is spilled somewhere, if the smell is anything to go by; Kristoff is trying to set up a beer pong tourney, half emptied bottles scattering on the floor, and Eric is off in a secluded corner having an intense conversation with some redhead Anna has never met before. Disappointingly so, she can't find any sign of platinum blonde hair as she makes her way to the secluded ice box that contains her favorite beer. Eugene, God bless his soul, has made sure to buy a six pack of Stella Artois and set it aside specifically for Anna. She is halfway through the pack, which means that she is tiptoeing on the edge of tipsy. With no destination in mind, she chooses to cross the rooftop towards the edge of the building, hoping to run into a pair of bright blue eyes again. The buzz of the party dissipates the thrill building inside her chest but Anna still feels as if she is being drawn towards something invisible, like a mirage she is desperate to see again.
The thrill of looking lies in finally finding, but Anna has yet to experience that tonight even if she's throwing herself at the groups of people that separate her and the edge she's trying to get to. What an irony, she muses, to stumble upon something when you aren't looking and not find it when you need it. The universe is a bitch like that. And how hard does this have to be anyway? She is not thinking of approaching Elsa, all she wants to do is see her again even if it's from afar, not in a stalkerish way but in an admiring one. And perhaps after a last glance tonight, Anna could hope that fate will work its magic and somehow reconnect them weeks later, with a glance shared across the street or a bumping of shoulders as they transfer trains.
When Anna finally settles herself by the edge of the rooftop, its wall high enough for her to lean on her elbows, she begins to wonder if perhaps Elsa has already left. Maybe this isn't her type of scenario, so she's chosen to leave, but pondering over that possibility makes Anna feel blue and she's determined to ignore it. Her gaze settles upon the Empire State Building standing tall on the east, gleaming its yellow hue against the dark of the night—
"Hi."
What a joy the universe must be having at Anna's expense that night! To drag her through a wondrous, yet brief reverie of infatuation with somebody whose name she doesn't even officially know, to let her wander around like a lonely pickle in search of somebody she couldn't find, and to be ambushed not long after, when she is least prepared. Yet, here Elsa stands. Sweet, sardonic universe has made sure to take care of that for Anna. She first notices that the girl standing a few feet to her right is only slightly taller than her, and that her platinum blonde hair is tossed to one side of her shoulder, made up in a casual braid. There is no tension in her stance. No tentativeness in the way she stands fully facing Anna with a red cup in the hand propped up on the edge of the rooftop. Blue eyes reflect nothing but a soft confidence, and Anna briefly wonders if the sparkle in them has anything at all to do with the hundreds of lights surrounding them.
"Hi..." Good gracious, she can feel her voice shake.
"I'm Elsa." The blonde says. She doesn't extend her hand to shake, but either Anna is already hopelessly hallucinating or Elsa is taking a diminutive step toward her.
Anna realizes that she needs to calm down right about now or else she would rather jump out of the rooftop. Whether she regrets almost chugging her beer or not will have to be addressed at another time. What was that about liquid courage, again?
"I'm Anna." She says tentatively. Because, frankly, what is Elsa doing here? She must have some big woman confidence to just approach Anna with the desire to talk. It makes her feel embarrassed when she thinks that all she wanted to do earlier was stare longingly at her from afar, like some high school boy too afraid to approach his crush at the prom ball. Suddenly, it occurs to Anna that perhaps Elsa is drunk.
"Do you mind if I join you for a while?" Okay maybe not drunk, but there is a certain hesitation laced in her voice that somehow makes Anna breathe easier. She is given the power to accept or deny Elsa's request, which stops her from feeling like such a doofus anymore. Although who is she kidding, really.
"No, of course not." Her smile comes easily just as she feels her body let go of the barest amount of tension.
Elsa smiles back at her but says nothing. Instead, she takes a sip off of her red cup and looks at the buildings towering above them. The comfort in their silence shouldn't be normal, Anna thinks. They are two strangers, for Christ's sake. She bites the inside of her cheek, rummaging through her brain for something to say. Elsa may appear oddly comfortable just standing there but Anna's skin is prickling with anticipation.
"Are you hiding from someone?" Is all she can come up with.
Looking back at her, the blonde smirks slowly, unexpectedly. "Do I look like I'm hiding from someone?" Her tone hides a meaning Anna can't quite decipher. Does she? No she doesn't, Anna figures, but that leaves her inner question unanswered.
"Not really." She blurts out. Elsa tilts her head and her blue eyes focus into Anna's with such an intensity that Anna isn't sure if the blonde wants to slap her or kiss her. Her heart flutters inside her chest, while her cheeks grow warm under Elsa's curious gaze. In a beat, their inquiring depth is gone and replaced by gentleness. So much for a casual conversation. The girl keeps looking at Anna like she is trying to read her freaking mind.
Elsa finally looks away and sighs deeply. "I'm just trying to step away for a bit. Socializing isn't really my forte."
"But you're socializing right now..." If locking eyes intensely with a stranger can be considered a form of socializing, though Anna keeps that one to herself. "But I think I know what you mean," she adds, "although I tend to socialize too much, so I guess I'm the opposite of you. I just kinda let my mouth speak for itself and—yeah." She takes the last gulp of her lukewarm beer and regrets it almost as much as her blabbering.
Amusement glints in Elsa's eyes.
"It's a different kind of socializing," Elsa argues, only acknowledging Anna's first statement as if to spare her dignity. "Besides, I don't know anyone here except for my cousin." As if to demonstrate she points with her chin at the space behind Anna. Turning around, she finds a short haired brunette in the corner, giggling at whatever Eugene is whispering in her ear. So Elsa doesn't want to be the third wheel and she doesn't know anyone else in here. It makes some sense now, that she has approached Anna, even if the redhead feels a pang of disappointment at the thought. The closest thing to an acquaintance Elsa has in here is the girl she made some heavy eye contact with back on the stairs.
Accepting her own conclusion, Anna nods. She then remembers Elsa's first statement. "What kind of socializing is this then?"
Elsa shrugs, takes another sip of her drink and leans her hip closer to the wall. It seems as if she is looking for her answer inside the buildings across the street from them. She remains quiet for a few seconds, the beat of the music and the chatter of strangers distancing themselves as Anna's entire being focuses on the girl before her. There is a touch of grace even to the way Elsa leans against the wall, with her legs crossed, her head held high. Anna takes a step closer before she can think twice about it.
Again, Elsa looks candidly at her. "It's just you and me," she states. "It's refreshing when I don't have to pretend to be a social butterfly around so many people."
The sincerity behind Elsa's words throws her off. The you and me in that sentence feels almost intimate, stripped of pretentiousness or the need to impress. That this girl can storm into Anna's life in an instant and make her knees quiver if she so desired, with all her regal air and glowing eyes and secretive smile, makes Anna feel vulnerable in a way that she hasn't felt before around another person so quickly. And that Elsa has the nerve to just stand there searching for an honest conversation, admitting to not having to pretend around her, while Anna has already walked by at least six people well on their way to having a groping session in a dark corner, makes Anna feel, well... special.
"If you like socializing, then how come you're over here by yourself?"
It is a fair question. "I'm feeling... contemplative tonight, I guess."
Elsa seems unsatisfied with the vagueness of her answer but doesn't push the subject. Instead, she provides another question: "What do you do, Anna?"
Anna tries to ignore the way her name comes out of Elsa's lips, so clear and sultry, like she is reaching out and caressing her with her voice. She also notices that Elsa doesn't push for a clarification on her last answer.
"I write." At the quirk of a shapely eyebrow she rushes to elaborate. "Well, I'm on the creative writing program at NYU, so technically I try to write most of the time. Either something comes out, decent or shitty, or I'm just left staring into space." She's forgotten about her finished beer and the attempt at another sip comes out embarrassingly futile.
Elsa chuckles. "New York abounds with writers... the ones I've met either write to forget or to remember." They are now standing a couple of feet away from each other, and despite the fact that Anna wants to blame it on the noise of everybody else's conversations around them, she knows that is not the case. There is a pull between the two that suggests a glorious inevitability Anna is too weak to fight. "Why do you write?"
Such an inquiry makes Anna hesitate. She knows the answer to that but isn't sure if it is something she wishes to delve into tonight. Elsa's interest is disarming, however, as well the alcohol in her veins, so Anna decides to pick at pieces of her own truth. "None of the above," she smiles softly, "I started writing when I was younger because, well, I rather wanted to avoid. I didn't have a shitty past that I wanted to forget and no memories have ever been significant enough that I've wanted to live reminiscing. But let's just say that writing felt like an escape of what I had going on at home."
A somber expression overcomes Elsa's face and Anna realizes just how that had sounded. She rushes to explain, "Oh no, no, it's nothing like that!" Unsure of how much honesty she can bear tonight causes her to bite her lip. "Mostly it was neglect. I was a lonely kid and my parents didn't seem to mind enough to change the situation." And what a story that was. That she had come to the point where her only friends were the paintings she'd found during her visits to the museum, the fictional characters in the books she'd read, or the white oak that inhabited their backyard. Anna's childhood was spent searching for her parents' affection behind an invisible shut door; no matter how much she tried to make them come out and make her feel loved, it never seemed to work.
Elsa's eyebrows draw together momentarily but no pity comes out of her lips. The gratitude Anna feels at that surprises her.
"Of all the vices that could have come from that you may have chosen the best one then." Elsa reassures her instead.
Anna chuckles at the irony of the statement, silently thanking the blonde's attempt to alleviate her somber mood. The smile captured by Elsa's lips is tender, bare of any fake sympathy but rather exposing an understanding that Anna finds heartfelt.
It is still such a wonder that in a matter of moments a connection has developed and sunk so deeply into Anna's heart. For a moment, she dwells in the particularity of such a mise-en-scène: her best friend's insistence at meeting a stranger Anna was reluctant to entertain only for her to stumble upon another one. A stranger sculpted out of smooth marble, with the ethereal composure of a queen, blue eyes capable of stopping time and a smile pertaining to a mystery Anna is all too willing to discover. It is then that Anna finds herself carefully entertaining the idea that this can't be the first and only time she ever sees Elsa. Because this familiarity feels too promising and the thought of it turning into a simple, flickering memory that Anna will look back on from time to time as she moves on with her life just doesn't sit well with her.
"Maybe next time you can show me your work." Ah, there it is, the invitation. The universe is beginning its retribution at last.
Anna's smile could have sufficed as an answer. "I would love to." And just like that, the gloominess that clouds Anna lifts.
"You see those two over there?" Elsa nods at her cousin and Eugene, both with their backs to the rest of the party, arms touching and heads leaning in close to each other. "They're going to sleep together."
Laughter escapes her lips before she can stop it. Elsa's statement is too bold not to believe it. "That is why you came over here?" Anna finally asks, although it is barely a question.
"That is part of why I came over here, yes."
Swooning. That is what Anna feels for the first time in forever, even though Elsa seems to lose control of her collected self for a second before the moment is gone. She is nervous, Anna thinks with satisfaction. Knowing that she isn't the only one hesitatingly waltzing through this interaction, Anna offers her an easy exit, "Thank God for small favors, then."
Elsa giggles, relieved. For a moment, they are silent; time expands slightly, taking its deep breath. Anna wonders how long they have spent being encapsulated in this space where nothing else seems to matter but the presence of each other.
"Why are you hoarding skittles in your pocket?"
"Oh," Her hand goes up to pat at her breast and feels the bulge Elsa is referring to. She'd forgotten all about it. "I bought it at the bodega when I went to use the restroom—" When I saw you for the first time, Anna wants to add. "I crave sweets when I drink and the Skittles are a lame attempt at substituting the chocolate cake I actually wanted."
Elsa smiles her gentle smile again and Anna comes to find it her favorite. "I know a place that sells this really good chocolate cake..."
Anna's wheels turn slowly as she processes the last of Elsa's sentence. Is this an invitation?Elsa is looking slightly down at her, their bodies so close now that she wouldn't have to take another step before reaching out and grabbing Anna's hand to lead her out of the party. They stand there perfectly still. It feels possible that this memory could be frozen in time, with the summer breeze blowing against Anna's skin, the warmth of Elsa's gaze washing over her.
"Would you like to go?" Go where, exactly? Anna asks herself. Go there, go home, go anywhere with you.
"That sounds like a plan." Elsa murmurs.
They make a quiet exit as soon as Anna finds Kristoff and smacks Shang, both of whom are well on their way to making fools of themselves at the beer pong tourney. She quickly, and awkwardly, introduces Elsa to the two of them mostly because there is no other way around it. Anna flushes as pink as a prom carnation when both of her friends pretend to be casual about the fact that Anna is leaving with a girl, but suppresses a smile when Kristoff nods at her in approval behind Elsa's back after the blonde has delivered her birthday wishes. The air that hits her five floors down is crisp and that is when Anna recognizes she might be just a little drunk. Elsa chaperones her to the bodega's bathroom this time around.
They share Anna's Skittles as they stroll the night away, with Elsa eating the orange ones that Anna finds quite disgusting and Anna eventually dropping half of the pack when she can't catch them midair with her mouth. Their arms brush from time to time, even though Anna talks with her hands when she gets excited while Elsa keeps her forearms gently crossed over her body. As they cross from west to east of the island, she learns that Elsa is attending Columbia's medical program and that she is three years older than her. She also discovers that Elsa is the most attentive and composed person she's ever met, and relishes in the fact that Elsa laughs at her jokes, covering her mouth each time in such a reserved manner that it falls as a wonderful contrast with the confidence she exudes each time she says Anna's name.
So much for not wanting to spend the night chatting with a stranger, Anna tells herself ironically. She wasted so much energy telling herself and her friends that she was just not interested in meeting anyone, only to find herself walking side by side with a girl she was ready to share every bit of her life story with.
The streets narrow down as they enter the East Village, a neighborhood that swarms once more with people coming in and out of the hot spots, engulfing both girls in the night life of the city. Elsa reassures Anna that the café is on the next block after they pass through a rowdy group of young men, and Anna tries not to show just how much it affects her body that Elsa is whispering this in her ear while she takes a protective stance between her and the men, a gentle hand pressing against her lower back. She cannot, however, hide the disappointment when she hears Elsa curse under her breath after they stop in front of a café that is just shutting off its front lights for the night. Elsa takes the few steps down to look at the hours plastered on the door before she checks her watch: "Ten twenty-two," she mutters. Anna feels just as bad when she finds in Elsa's eyes a mixture of apologies and disappointment staring back at her.
"I'm so sorry," Elsa says and damn, does Anna feel it. Something tells her that the apology entails more than just the absence of cake; their night just became a hell of a lot shorter.
Anna registers the way Elsa's hips sway gently as she climbs the three steps that divide them. A sudden rush of déjà vu overcomes her and it takes Anna every ounce of self-control she has to avoid reaching out for Elsa's hand to pull her closer this time. "Let me walk you to the train station, at least." Elsa suggests, the trace of disappointment still present in her voice.
Unsure of how to voice the protest that surges at the blonde's resignation, Anna nods instead.
The first few steps they take away from the café are accompanied by silence. Anna knows from what Elsa has told her that she lives close by, and while that piece of information is rather tempting, neither gives away the suggestion.
"Maybe next time I can share my work with you over a slice of chocolate cake." She knows she sounds stupidly confident that there will be a next time, but she reminds herself that Elsa has extended the invitation first.
Elsa smiles at her. The gleam in her eyes is enough of a promise. When she looks away a long sigh escapes her lips, "I was really hoping to spend—" she clears her throat, "I was hoping that place would be open, I was really craving some cake"
Anna hums in agreement. Who is Elsa kidding? She thinks at the almost slipped confession. This far into the night, Anna knows this is no normal interaction between two strangers meant to be friends, even if her experience is downright nonexistent. There are too many caught breaths, too many seconds passed in comfortable silence and shared glances. She can see a longing in Elsa's bright blue eyes that is less controlled than the blonde would probably wish to admit, and Anna knows this because this same longing is madly sprouting out of her own gaze without second thoughts anymore. However, she knows this is gravitating towards something that feels too much, too soon. She's seen enough movies and read enough books to know how this night can end; the two of them naked, wrapped around each other beneath ruffled sheets and bathed in the moonlight that seeps through Anna's window each night. But somehow, this is not what Anna wants. She wants no night stand, even if they do agree to see each other again, and she wants no grand gestures of romance either. She wants simple. As simple as Kristoff's party on an abandoned building and as simple as an invitation to share a slice of chocolate cake.
Even if simple means having to accept that the night is coming to an end.
"It's okay," Anna voices it, and finds that she means it. "Those beers are starting to make me feel sleepy, anyways."
Elsa playfully bumps her upper arm against Anna's shoulder. "Make sure you don't fall asleep on the train... you're what, three, four stops away?"
They near the lit up entrance to the underground station of 3rd Avenue, slowing their pace until they are hovering over their imminent separation. "It's four, and don't worry I fall asleep on the train every morning, so I've trained my body to stay half awake. It's like sleeping with one eye open, only, you know, not literally or anything, that would be weird..." Anna trails off, embarrassed. Although when it makes Elsa laugh so suddenly that she can't cover it with her hand, she finds it worth it.
"You are quite something." Elsa whispers before taking a step forward and reaching for Anna's hand. The gesture is so simple, yet so grandiose in that moment, that Anna sucks in a breath through her slightly parted lips in surprise. Her hand is cold to the touch but the comfort it brings Anna feels warmer than the sun on a summer day. Elsa squeezes her hand softly and smiles once more. "Will you text me when you get home?"
"I don't have your phone number, though."
"I gave it to you on our way to the café..." Elsa looks at her in a way that makes her wonder just how much those beers have actually hit her. She stares into space with her mouth parted open until she recalls the precise moment Elsa is referring to.
"Right! I'm sorry, I should probably go to sleep if I can't remember what happened thirty minutes ago." She admits sheepily. But her hand is still being held by Elsa's and she is starting to find it rather impossible to say goodbye at all. The only thing that goes through Anna's mind is a simple sentence: Ask me.
"I'll let you go then..."
For a few moments neither of them makes a move to leave—Ask me—. The thumb of Elsa's right hand is faintly caressing the back of Anna's left while a raucous band of kids storms out of the station. They both take a step to the side, momentarily grateful to extend their time together for a few more seconds as they watch the group stride away. Elsa's bangs fall to cover her eyes and Anna thinks little before reaching out with her free hand to tuck them aside. Blue eyes widen in surprise and it is Anna's turn to smile fondly. "Tonight was good," she whispers, squeezing Elsa's hand before letting it go—Ask me—. She has to force her legs to take a few steps backwards, even as Elsa waves goodbye and the gesture tugs at Anna's heart.
Ask me and I will stay.
She makes a turn for the stairs that will lead her home.
Her phone beeps on her nightstand while Anna is brushing her teeth. She half-asses the task, however, because she's too busy contemplating every little aspect of her interaction with Elsa. How cliché is it that Anna has become infatuated with a pair of blue eyes? She finishes gargling water before she half-asses the task of washing her face as well, fearing all that beer won't be enough to knock her out tonight. Icy, blue eyes in Anna's opinion, so alluring and so mysterious at the same time; Anna swears she has never seen eyes so crystal blue, so cold but also so warm...
Padding into the moonlit room towards her nightstand she finds two unopened texts. One is from Kristoff: a drunken invitation to have breakfast the next morning. And the other one, no less expected but nonetheless causing Anna's heart to take a little leap in her chest, from Elsa: Glad you got home okay. Hopefully we can meet again soon, x.
You fucking bet. Anna grins as she plops herself on her empty bed. The beers, turns out, are enough to knock Anna out within minutes.