Hi hello. How long has it been? two, three years? Who knows, these days.
I've been working on the next few chapters so lets hope I dont take like, another year to update. My mental stability counts on it aaaa

The day, like most of the week, was sunny. Beach-like breeze, not a single cloud in the sky, the intensity of the sun drying all signs of humidity from early morning rains, and a temperature that seemed to be around twenty four degrees.

The perfect weather for a cemetery visit.

And here lies the universal question, the reason for the guilt that would suddenly hit Elsa for one reason or another: why was it, that every time they had to do something related to their parents' death, was the weather like this? So nice, so ideal, so perfect?

It seemed some kind of signal, an insistence on Elsa's idea that she had to start recovering from her grief and move on. That 'wasn't it what you wanted? Aren't you happy?', as if she should feel alright with this entire situation.

Elsa only wanted to feel normal for once, just like any other human being. Just once. That the sun hitting her back felt for what it was, a consequence of the summer season, instead of a reminder of how suffocating it could be to wear an extra layer of clothes in the middle of February.

Ok, well, Elsa wasn't exactly suffocating from the heat on this particular day. Moving under the shadow of a tree would have been enough so her outfit of mom jeans, sneakers, and a basic t-shirt wouldn't feel like a bad choice. She could stop hugging herself and lift the face from her knees, too. However, those two things would mean coming back to where half her relatives were. Her mother's headstone.

Elsa preferred to cry alone.

And here lies, too, the reason why her grandma wanted them to visit on Wednesday. Even if they saw her the three days that followed. She wanted to tell them first, while they were seeping chocolate milk from Looney-Toon-shaped mugs, probably older than Anna and Elsa's age combined. Her mom's headstone was finished, made of red bricks as it was the aesthetic of this particular cemetery, and a bed for flowers in the middle. The idea was to plant her mom's favorites, in the colors she loved.

Elsa had said yes, thinking it as something she'll have to face inevitably. Yet didn't take conscience of what it entailed, of how much her arms shook when she placed her seedling and got her hands dirty with removed soil. Of how this would turn into a regular family thing. Visit, tend to the flowers, and then go to the chapel to sit and pretend she too is praying. Of how the world, again, was reduced to Elsa watching from above new shapes and forms of what was once there.

Of realizing how tired she was of feeling like this.

Elsa never wanted to be here in the first place.

Nevertheless, as always, refusing was never an option.

That's what bothered her the most, in fact. Not being able to say no. What kind of daughter would she be, if she did? Especially because it was her mom, and the least Elsa wanted to look like, wanted her family to believe, was that she held some kind of resentment towards her. On the contrary, Elsa missed her every single day, and the conversations she had with her that very last week were still floating around her head. But relatives whispered, as they were doing now, as she heard her name once or twice in the distance, between voices. It later turns into rumors and uncomfortable questions during family lunches.

Better to stay under the sun. It was enough already with having to stand those attitudes of pity, that sometimes even seemed to go farther than just grief-related.

Elsa heard steps walking in her direction. She didn't know who they belonged to, nor how she could distinguish steps so clearly over the concrete paths of the cemetery, but they were there, walking toward her. Maybe it was due to her habit of living in silence, paying extra attention to every sound. It was helpful to be on alert, recognizing who's the one approaching you and who isn't. It helped to understand the gestures and know how to act accordingly.

It never saved her from anything, but at least there were no surprises.

Just like there was no surprise when the steps stopped right beside her and threw themselves over the ball that Elsa had turned into. Her sister had been stealing her bergamot and mint body mist lately, plus she was the only one who would dare to hug her in such a way.

She didn't say anything, at first. Elsa supposed that there wasn't much to say, in the situation they were in. Both knew that words of consolation sounded empty, that it wasn't enough. Over complicated family relationships, sudden twists of fate that ended in tragedy. What else could be taken from that?

The only thing left was to enjoy the moment of genuine consolation, then. A hug over a shared sentiment, 'I get you' and not 'I pity you.' they were on equal terms, although Elsa couldn't avoid her guilt for not fulfilling her role as the older sister.

"Els, I'd love to keep hugging you, but I'm kinda melting here." Anna let go of her slowly, when Elsa finally lifted her head from her knees to wrinkle her nose. The weather could be tolerable, but under the sun physical contact wasn't the best idea.

"Ew, shoo," Elsa joked, wiping her tears off with the back of her hand, while she gestured for her sister to get away with the other.

Anna pulled her tongue out, and they ended up sitting over the sidewalk of the cemetery.

"Are you okay? I mean like, generally speaking," Again, her sister was doing exaggerated hand gestures, circles in the air with too many turns, while she blinked clearly misty eyes. "I don't know if I'm explaining myself right or..."

Elsa interrupted her with a nod.

"I just needed some air." It was clear it wasn't in the literal sense, but in that she needed a break. Being surrounded by so many people in a place she didn't want to be in, watching her every move. Her right actions. "It's... it's a lot."

"Ah, ja, they are super overwhelming, aren't they?" Anna took her hand, and Elsa nodded again. She'll smother less by burying her face in a pillow, really. "You wanna go for a walk? Before, uh... making the last stop."

Anna cringed as soon as the words left her mouth, as maybe it wasn't the best choice of words ever. But her sister had her own way of evading certain words, and Elsa wasn't pretending to correct her anytime soon.

Shit. She had forgotten that they had to do that. Because, they had to, right? How could they not bring flowers to her father when they did it with her mom? How could they be so selective and egoistic? What was their problem? What problem could they ever have to justify such reaction and bitterness? Family is family no matter what. No excuses.

No one will tell them that, right at the moment, but it'll turn into a casual question during a family lunch. Out of pure curiosity of learning what had happened. Never out of genuine worry.

Both sides of her family were like that, only one was more discreet than the other, and from there her parents always insisted family problems were a hundred percent personal. Nobody had to know about fights, or disagreements, nor Elsa's diagnosis in November last year. The more normal everything seemed, the better.

Only thinking about it gave Elsa a headache.

"I never thought of taking a stroll in a cemetery." Even so, she got up and dusted the back of her jeans, Anna doing the same.

"I didn't trust it, either. But, eh, it has its own charm." Her sister shrugged, walking in the opposite direction of where their family was (which Elsa thanked), getting down on the street and walking right next to the sidewalk, Elsa right behind her.

"Sounds like you came here before." Something didn't add up. First, because Anna seemed to have a certain sense of orientation, and second because it was the first time they came, after the burials. And if memory didn't fail her, they didn't move anywhere else but to the chapel, which was near.

"Uhuh, with my ex." With her what? Who has a date in the cemetery? "Don't make that face, it was her grandma's death anniversary so we accompanied her and ended up taking a walk, just to cheer her up a bit."

Ok, that sounded way more normal. Nothing out of this world, nor someone weird that like things like occultism or odd stuff like th-

There was something in that sentence that made Elsa stop for a second.

Could it be that...?

"You accompanied her?" Anna's eyes came and went with a bit of nervousness, but she ended up nodding. "But you told me your summer crush was a boy."

Anna rolled her eyes at that.

"Elsa, I think it's more than obvious I'm not straight."

Oh.

"Oh."

"And neither are you, since we're on topic." What? What did she have to do with all of this? Or worse, how did she figure it out, if Elsa never mentioned it? "Every time they say your name and Boyfriend in the same sentence it looks like you're about to throw up," she answered, as if she was reading her mind.

"Is it that obvious?" Elsa felt too self-conscious now, somehow. So she chose to look the other side while playing with a strand of hair, to watch the tombstones and crosses that each time became shorter... in length...

It wasn't the children's area, was it? Only thinking about it made her stomach turn.

And then people told her she wasn't as lucky as she always thought.

"Way too much, or maybe it's because I'm already familiar with the faces you make... Ey, wait! Remember that time grandpa Runeard gifted you that Barbie wedding set and you ended up using Ken as the wing man?" Elsa preferred to focus on Anna. On the fact that she didn't seem to have a bit of prejudice and even seemed to be in a similar situation. On the memory of dressing half her dolls in that wedding gown, and looking for the most elegant dress for the other bride.

"No, no, he was the judge that officiated the wedding. You played his voice, remember?"

"Yeah? I only remember that it was a Children's Day gift."

Elsa nodded.

"A few months before he died," Elsa remembered he had taken them to the toy store after school, to pick up their Sunday gifts. Elsa chose that set relatively quickly as she saw it before, and Anna was unsure about all the things that called up her attention, for her five years old. And they had too many toys, apparently. Yet he would take them from time to time, to pick something up. That time they came out with a coloring book with stickers. The next with a board game and so on.

"Hm..." Her sister didn't add anything for a while, and they ended up walking past another area of common tombstones, admiring things in secret. Out of respect or because they didn't have anything to actually say, Elsa wasn't sure. But she did understand the concept of coming to a cemetery, still. Besides the ghost stories, the tragedies, the grief, and the flowers. It really was a pacific place. There were trees with birds singing, cicadas chirping from the heat, and personnel cleaning places or watering trees.

Ironically, it looked a lot more lively than it did in... movies and any other media. Not that it'll turn into a normal outing, or that she'll suggest it to her friends, but it did make all this situation a bit lighter. It took some of the weight off the idea of only having to come here to lament. The mausoleums were proof of it, with their architectural details in doors and gates, or the structures that sometimes seemed like houses.

Elsa stopped to check them more than once, trying to decipher the materials, or how the scene was set per se. If the casket were visible or covered in white lace, or if they had a little altar with pictures. Her sister pulled from her arm more than once so they'll keep moving, pretending she wasn't scared of the possibility of a ghost.

And proving otherwise when she jumped at a cat that appeared out of nowhere, from between the mausoleum streets.

Elsa didn't fear paranormal stuff much, to be honest. She didn't believe in those things. Her mom would always say you had to fear the living, rather than those decomposing three meters under.

Until now, she was always right.

Anna was more superstitious in that sense, talking about the vibes of the ambient. And definitely rounding all the way not to cross the niche murals, in what seemed to be two floors like they were apartments. Something that the time she walked around there she felt something pulled her. And while Elsa didn't believe much in that stuff, the fact that the place was deserted didn't sit right with her.

"Wait wait wait," said Anna out of nowhere, as if she just realized she had forgotten something important. Elsa looked at her with anticipation, frowning out of not understanding where it came from, nor where they actually were, now that she thought about it. "You never told me if you dated, or if you are dating. You know, present time."

"You never asked." Elsa let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. Nothing serious, at least. "Anna, where are we?"

Anna then realized that maybe they went too far from their original spot, judging by the white mural with the columns with weird statues, that showed the end of the cemetery. She took Elsa's hand, coming back from where they came from, almost.

"Ok, so?"

"What?"

"Are you dating any girl? Spill!"

"I don't think I'm in the right place to start dating anyone... And you didn't tell me, either."

"I always tell you about my crushes. You don't. It's different."

Maybe it was different. Maybe Elsa had to tell more about her life. Make Anna feel like she was part of it. Not that she didn't want to before, but the fear that it might slip accidentally while talking to her parents, or telling any other relative was too big, and made Elsa swallow all her ideas.

The worst part was that she ended up being right.

"I dated two girls." Elsa still pretended that her fears weren't eating her words, and simply rolled her eyes, as if it was tedious and obvious. "The first was very casual, less than three months. And last year I had a girlfriend for around, uh, five months, I think."

"Five months? God, Elsa! Why did you never tell me? This feels like a betrayal." Elsa shook her head slightly, in disbelief of her sister's dramatic tone in that last phrase. "I bet even mom and dad knew, didn't they?"

At that, Elsa didn't say a word. Only the stare of her sister urging her made her mumble: "They found out on their own..."

By accident. Her handball coach bumped into her mom at the supermarket, and told her about Elsa's break up with her ex-girlfriend, as that's where she met Sara. And, while her parents ended up accepting it, their reaction when they found out was... not the best they could have. They got angry about being lied to, more than anything else. And by the end of the year, she had to send a picture of the place she said she was, or her live location.

Her dad was angry about a lot of other things, but that was a thing of the past.

"What do you mean they fou-"

Or the present.

She knew when Anna stopped cold and looked to a specific place. A specific block by the distance. Elsa recognized that white stone cross with an angle on it.

Conversations about love, dates, and crushes already forgotten.

Why did it have to ruin all the good moments? The calm moments, the ones with laughter and carelessness.

"...You wanna go?" asked her sister, after a long while of glances that went back and forth and lips pressing into fine lines of uncomfortableness.

No.

What kind of daughter was she? Really.

"Only if you feel ready, too." The worst of the worst. Anna's eyes widened, realizing the responsibility her sister had laid on her because, yes, Elsa always was the worst daughter out of the two. Elsa was never going to be ready for anything. It was a situation she never wanted to deal with.

Sometimes there's no other way.

Anna nodded with a heavy sigh, biting her lower lip. Elsa offered her hand, and her sister almost made it hurt from her nervousness.

That's how they moved forward, with trembling steps.

Elsa felt that the sun intensified. That it turned into fire and surrounded her with flames with each step, while her skin turned cold and her nails a pale lilac.

It was the moment they stood in front of the headstone, a simple, gray marble one with a Christian cross, that she felt she didn't have anything. That reality turned into cold, they froze and broke into pieces. That it wasn't a poorly constructed wooden cross with an equally as poorly nameplate and a pile of soil. Here laid a body, effectively. It had a shape and pictures frozen in time.

Elsa couldn't yet get used to the idea that her dad was dead.

Was all of this symbolic? Spiritual? A form of consolation for death?

It was just that Elsa couldn't help seeing all this and feeling cold. Again not wanting to touch anything for the fear of contaminating, nor wanted to be there at all. That was the problem. She didn't feel anything. Seeing this made her sad, sure, but at the same time she was standing there, looking at what was left of someone who was buried. Foreign concept.

That's why she didn't want to be here.

Yet here they were. Anna placed the flowers right under the "beloved father, loved by all" engraved over the cross. Would her mom have approved that? Not like it was a lie. Not that much. Who would take the word of the almost ex-wife, though?

Who cared, now, when her sister's sight was fixed on the gray marble with its even greyer lines? Trembling. Holding back her tears.

Elsa wrapped her arms around Anna as strongly as she could, and she felt her sister squeeze her ribs while collapsing in tears. No laugh, no play pretend comments, or anything similar. Only silence, birds chirping in nearby trees, and the sun burning Elsa's skin even if she felt as if it was only accumulating snow inside of her. She held her, ran a hand through her hair, not being able to say anything.

No amount of apologies or regrets were enough.

Nothing was enough.

Sometimes Elsa wanted to figure out when everything went so wrong, how did they get to this point. Because, at surface level, she knew. Could pinpoint that moment in time, that memory. It was forever ingrained in her head, even if she didn't exactly remember it. It was there.

It'll always be.

That wasn't the question, per se, but what caused everything to turn that way. What changed. Why suddenly they weren't a family anymore.

Her sister pulled away, a bit reluctant, but enough to breathe and dry her tears with her hand.

Elsa felt the cold swallow her again.

"Crap, I got snot in your t-shirt, sorry." It was then that Elsa looked down, noticed the stain on her shoulder, and tried to make a grimace while laughing it off, just to lighten things up a bit. It didn't help, as always.

She looked for the tissues in her jeans back pocket, pulling one off the packet and almost putting it over Anna's nose so she could blow it, as if she was three all over again. Her sister took it and blew her nose as any person her age, while Elsa focused on cleaning her shoulder off and drying the tears off her face with her wrist.

Both of them looked down, realizing where exactly they were still standing by.

Elsa hugged her sister by the shoulders, not wanting her to get closer again. Like it was fire, instead of stone.

It hurt all the same.

"I still don't know how to feel about... about all this, you know?" Anna let out of nowhere, her voice shaking and tears still threatening to come out. "It's like, there are a ton of things that pile up and I don't know which is which. I mean, I'm still kinda angry over all the stuff that happened? But at the same time it's been so long that... I don't know. I'm rambling."

She was.

"So long from what?" Elsa forced herself to ask, in a low, trembling voice. She didn't understand what Anna was referring to, exactly, and it truly scared her that it was what Elsa was thinking it could be. Wasn't it a good sign, that it wasn't entirely in her memory, being able to move on in life as if nothing happened?

Too many things to deal with at the same time.

Anna shrugged as if it was obvious.

"From everything, Els, like a ton of stuff. It just doesn't feel right to be resentful, is what I'm saying."

Resentful was too strong of a word. In theory, Elsa had a lot of things to be resentful of her parents. Yet she didn't allow herself to do it. Family isn't chosen, so you have to get used to it, right? What was the point in getting angry? On falling into those voids of emptiness and daring to think of misfortunes?

That didn't mean she didn't feel it. That she didn't live with such conflict swirling around in her chest.

"It... it really doesn't, does it?" Elsa felt her voice shake, from the base of her throat. Her eyes started to sting, too.

How the hell was this closure?

"Hey, you okay? You're shaking."

"I..." Elsa didn't know if it was the cold that hit her body. or the rage. Or the resentment. Or what. Black spots appeared out of nowhere on her eyesight. "I need to sit down."

Anna guided her to the edge of the sidewalk so they could both sit down. Elsa put her head between her knees, trying to make an effort to control and relax her breathing. The rubs on the small of her back helped, too. Grounded her.

It was supposed to be the other way around.

"I wasn't exactly on speaking terms with dad," Elsa blurted out. "I didn't even say goodbye when he walked out the door."

She didn't even give him a goodbye kiss, a hug, or anything. Her mother wouldn't allow it either, not after the conversation they had the previous day.

But mom did hug her, with strong arms and reassurances that it was going to be okay, after a kiss on her forehead and slow caresses in the hair. And Elsa just nodded with tears in her eyes, and went to set her duffel bag as her mom asked her to, in case things went down and they were the ones that had to leave the house.

"What for?" Anna asked, so curious that two seconds later she seemed to backtrack. "If… If you wanna tell."

Elsa wished she could tell. Follow that little sound, that little need, that buzzing inside of her chest every time someone asked about it. Every time someone offered a willing ear, or asked if everything was okay when she was drowning inside her own head. Every time she was feeling awful as shit and she wanted to just scream what was going on. What went on.

Yet words wouldn't come out. They got stuck at the back of her throat. Her secrets forever lost inside herself to never come out to the light of day.

"He… um, he did something. Something not super nice. You know how he… how he was, sometimes." Her hands were playing with the hem of her jeans, all too busy and all too trembling while that mumble mess of words came out of her mouth, trying to explain and then not, at the same time. "He apologized and everything, and I forgave him. And then he did it again two days later."

And that would be Cati's cue to say 'that's not normal, Elsa, it's fucked up', or something similar. Elsa could hear her in her head, in a tiny little voice, just making that tiny little comment. Or maybe it wasn't her friend, exactly, but either way, she just ignored it, for the sake of not really thinking much about the implications of anything. Elsa was only providing a superficial context to an answer. That was the gist of it. Done.

Why did it hurt so much, then? Her stomach was doubling in itself, and there was this cold rage suddenly rising in her chest, and a very guilty part of her wished she had enough courage to do those things they did in movies, sudden moves, and unexpected actions that otherwise would be frowned upon. She thought on the tombstone, the cross in light gray reading beloved father in golden cursive, not too far away but not too close either.

How could this be closure, of all things?

How is it that she's supposed to have won something out of this situation? Something positive, like peace. But then she was only filled with guilt for not even giving him a proper goodbye, even if she was mad at him. If she had known it was the last time she would see her dad, Elsa would have tried to say goodbye in a proper, more caring way.

But right, no. Things are often not fair. So pain and resentment and guilt it is.

"Ah," Anna sounded a little bit disappointed as if she was expecting more. It did seem like she was about to say something, but then she didn't. "Yeah, alright, sounds like dad."

Now there was worry, flashing in her chest too. She didn't know if Anna was saying it just because, or she caught her drift of Elsa speaking in code and was doing it too.

"And like, half our family. Like, geez, the number of times I've told Oma not to make comments on people's body weight and she just- keeps doing it."

Elsa breathed out. She didn't. Good. Great.

"I think it's a generational thing." Elsa absolutely hated that every time she saw her grandma, there was a comment shoved in about her body. Her body weight, specifically. About how it wasn't enough, and that she should eat more. Once she even asked her if she had an eating disorder in front of everyone. Her mom jumped to her rescue because it was totally uncalled for, yet she claimed that it was out of care.

And then eating with any relatives became uncomfortable, because she felt as if she had a security camera over her, watching and counting every bite she took.

Even her dad used to say she was skin and bones. He told her that, on Sunday night, while he filled her glass with Pepsi to accompany his homemade McDonald's, as he liked to call it. The one he made as a welcome dinner for her daughter, after only speaking through the phone for the past month and a half, while watching some weird nineties movie.

Elsa ended up throwing up that night. Just as she also ended up crying against her will trapped in a hug she never returned.

"Yeah, I guess..." she replied, as if she got distracted thinking about her own little things. It was hard not to, in a place like this.

Anna leaned against her, throwing her weight and her head over her shoulder. Elsa wrapped an arm around her shoulders, hugging her close despite the warmth and the heat. Today wasn't really that bad with temperature, but summer was still summer.

"You're not leaving, right?" Anna mumbled, and Elsa looked down to see her holding back tears. "I know I keep asking like I'm five or something but it's just- I- I really don't want-" she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. "I'd rather fight you for half of the space in the wardrobe than have so many empty spots, you know?"

"I told you, I won't," she breathed, and seeing the hope in her eyes was enough to make Elsa feel lighter. "But only if you don't cover the walls with posters," she quickly added, just to keep the mood as light as Anna was trying to turn it into.

"What? You don't like being surrounded by the handsomest boys in the K-pop industry?" She feigned indignation with a hand on her chest and an open mouth, Elsa rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay. I'll change some of them for girl groups you can thirst over."

"Anna!" She swatted her lightly in the arm, astonishment getting to her voice. She told her, yes, but Elsa didn't expect her to bring it up just like that, as if it was no big deal.

"Ok, ok, we'll go to Chinatown one of these days and you make the pick." Elsa swatted her again, still indignant. "Hey! You swat me, I swat back!"

So she did. And Elsa corresponded. And Anna swatted again. And soon enough they were both throwing their hands around, playfully swatting at each other's arms like they were little kids all over again. Banter and laughing included.

For that little moment, Elsa forgot that this was a cemetery and not a park, that she wasn't ten years old indeed, and that her parents were buried here, under tombstones and phrases and flowers and a day too nice to be the middle of February and too blue skies.

But at the end of it all, Elsa's cheeks hurt from smiling so hard.

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