Elsa.

It is now mid-September, and Anna has not overgrown my mind.

Right now I am in my bedroom. My clothing is strewn all over my carpet as I try to determine which outfit Anna would like the most.

I snatch a light blue jumper and a white jumper identical to the blue one. My eyes furrow together as they flicker between the two. Which one would Anna like more?

I sigh in frustration and discard the two articles of clothing on the floor. I bury my face in my hands and slide down against my dresser.

Why the hell am I trying to impress her so much? I stare at the pile of clothes on my floor angrily, as if they will return back to their proper places if I stare hard enough.

All of my clothes are either a chilling light blue or white-my two favorite colors. Maybe I favor these two colors so much because they remind me so much of winter.

Practically everybody I know loathes the winter season, but I absolutely adore it. It's unforgiving and harsh and drains the life out of everything, but its cruelty is beautiful.

There is a soft knock on my door. "Elsa?" my mother's voice calls. "Are you in there?"

I pull myself to my feet and exit my walk-in closet. I pass my four-poster bed (which is covered in a white blanket with snowflakes on it) to get to the door. I swing it open, and my mother is standing there, staring down at me sternly.

She resembles me greatly: White-blonde hair, blue eyes, practically colorless skin. Light freckles pepper her nose and cheeks just like me. However, although we look nearly identical, our personalities clash greatly. Her role as mayor has made her as harsh and unforgiving as winter. To her, your personality is not what defines you as a person; instead, it is your grades and appearance.

She eyes me calculatingly. If Anna was in my place right now, she would be trembling. But I am so accustomed to the judgmental looks that they no longer affect me.

"Elsa, it is eleven o' clock," she says. "You have to wake up for school in approximately six hours. Why are you still up?"

Because I'm trying to impress a girl I'm not supposed to like. "I don't know."

My mother shakes her head. "Tsk tsk tsk. Time for you to get to bed." And with that, she shuts the door to my room and her footsteps fade away. I hear her open the door to Hans's room and I can imagine her smiling fondly at her most cherished child.

My heart burning with envy, I flick my lights off and trudge over to my bed. Once my body sinks into the soft mattress, a thought enter my mind.

Blue jumper. Anna would like the blue jumper more.

XXX

As I am walking to the school, I see Anna walking with her two new friends.

A month earlier, when I was dragged away by Anastasia (something I will never allow to happen to me again), Anna had to sit next to two new people: A long-haired girl ironically dubbed Rapunzel and a redhead with freckles all over her face. All I know about the redhead is that she is a Scottish transfer.

Anna still talks to me, but she spends most of her free time with those two. Sometimes my jealousy is not directed towards Hans, but burns more for those two. How they earn more of her attention than me nowadays.

And I should not get jealous over a girl I cannot like.

"Conceal, don't feel," I murmur under my breath. Hans leaves my side and rushes to Anna, his arm wrapping around her waist. His actions only make me scream the three words inside my mind.

Anna tenses up at his touch; the Scottish girl reprimands him, but his arm remains around her waist. Rapunzel is glaring daggers at him.

Then Anna cranes her neck back, and her warm blue-green eyes meet my blue ones. She smiles awkwardly, her hand giving me a small wave.

My heart is now warm with affection, not envy. I smile back.

XXX

"Hey," Anna greets me at the end of the day. Now we are in science class-by we, I mean me and Anna. Just us. Alone.

I'd kill to have more alone time with her.

I mess with the collar of my jumper subconsciously. Don't say anything stupid. "Hey."

"How's it going?" she questions, placing her binder down on my next beside my folders. "We haven't talked in a while." She frowns. "Well, we have talked, but not really talk talked. Like, first-two-days-of-school talked. I really miss talking to you, and now I'm talking too much." Her face is crimson red. "I'll stop talking now."

God, her rambling is literally the most adorable thing ever. "It's fine," I lie with a feeble smile. Jesus fucking Christ, it is not fine. My brother-who is a douchebag, as I have informed you before-is trying to get in your pants. You have two new friends, whom you spend more time with. All of the times we've talked have been "how is the weather?" conversations. Not. Fine.

Her eyebrows knit together worriedly. Then a sly smile plays onto her lips.

She grabs my right arm, and a loving emotion charges throughout my body, fueling me. "We should go to the garden again," she suggests, but telling by the pleading look in her eyes-those fucking eyes-it's a request.

Despite my mind screeching at me to stop, to stop admiring her, to stop being so gay, to conceal, don't feel, I answer, "Yes."

The broad grin that spreads across her lips makes this hasty decision worth it.

XXX

So one hour after the dismissal bell rings, I am sitting cross-legged on the greenhouse floor with Anna, adoring a lily with her.

Her knee gently brushes mine every now and then; I cannot suppress the blush that creeps onto my face when it does.

Her eyes are wide. She pokes the flower several times, its stem swaying lightly each time.

The lily is the most lesbian flower, I think smugly as she continues studying the plant. She then elbows my side; I tense up, and instinctively scoot over.

"Elsa, it's so pretty," she states breathlessly. "Who knew nature could be so pretty?"

I bite back a retort and reply, "Not just nature."

She raises an eyebrow. "Then what else is pretty? I'm sure many other things in this room are." She bites her lips, seemingly contemplating something. "And not all of them are plants."

HOLY SHIT WHAT WERE YOU GOING TO SAY

I clear my throat and shift around awkwardly, trying my best to conceal my inner freak-out. "Seasons. Seasons are considerably attractive."

She looks me questioningly. "Seasons are nature...?"

I wave my mind dismissively. "Sure. But here's this one season I find particularly more attractive than the others."

She leans back against the leg of a table, arms crossed. "Explain."

I gulp, begging my emotions to not show in the form of a blush. "Well, this season is winter," I begin. She smiles, and I take it as a good sign. "I like so much because it's cold."

"No way," she says sarcastically, and I glare at her jokingly.

"Not cold cold, but harsh cold," I clarify, and she nods. "It's heartless and takes the life out of everything. But the way the snow falls from the sky and blankets the ground with white...the way everything returns to life after a difficult time..." I smile. "I think it's beautiful."

She is silent for a moment, and my heart is pounding against my ribs. I fear that I've shared too much.

Conceal, don't feel, dammit.

Finally, she grins and says, "You wouldn't get along with my brother so well, then."