Sometime around Elsa's twelfth year I left with promises of treats from other countries and strange foreign lands. I rode on winds fierce with my cheeks flushed and excitement in my veins, desperate to see a reaction when I returned to her. And in response she'd smile the smile meant for me, a small facet of the princess she reserved for her own frostbitten friend.
I waited by her window, drawing the snowflake I designed specifically for her over and over again, singing the song her little sister Anna repeated as she ran through the hallways.
"Blir du med å lager snømann?~"
My heart fluttered as I watched Elsa open her door and come to her mirror to fix her hair.
"Elsa."
I thought she was being coy, maybe mad that I had taken a little too long to return this time. She walked around her room, and I sat at the windowsill, my leg jittering with nervousness as I waited in anticipation for her to reply to me, a full box of candies in my hands straight from France. She loved everything about the country; the language, the pictures I brought back. I'm sure she'd love the food.
"Elsa."
She settled on her bed and started reading a rather thick novel, and I was put off by the idea that the book was more interesting than a friend who had returned from a foreign land with gifts. Did I forget how to interact with children? I didn't understand anything they were saying, but I knew deep down what they really wanted. Elsa wanted friends, and I couldn't believe how rude she was being to her only one.
"Elsa!"
I screamed at her, but she did not reply. She did not react to the frost on her window, and when I blew open her window in anguish. I was horrified, my body growing so cold that I could actually feel the change (ice having been something I had completely numbed myself too). I screamed in fury, and almost started sobbing at the idea of being alone again. She looked at the mess I had made, and her eyes widened.
"Jack! What are you doing?" she said it with a thick Norwegian accent, but it was perfect English.
"I-I've been with you for hours," I said in dismay. "Why couldn't you see me?"
Elsa rushed up to me and tried to hug me, alarmed by the thick tears rimming my eyes, but her arms phased through my clothes.
It was then that I realised that her belief in me was strong, but not impenetrable. She'd forgotten me that year, and it hurt beyond comparison that she was capable of doing that. It wasn't the first time Elsa forgot I existed. Growing up she doubted, because she was the only one that saw me. It wasn't hard to pass me off as some kind of imaginary friend, conjured from the depths of her depression.
Every single time I screamed at her and she did not hear I grew more and more afraid that I might become doomed to fade into nothingness once more. Every word lost to the winds reminded me of how precious it was to be heard, how wonderful it was to have someone in this lonely world that saw, that listened, and loved me despite my crippling fears.
a/n: A review goes a long way, guys. But thanks for all the follows and favourites.
