"Tell me then," Cassandra grabs her shoulder before she's able to move an inch further up the steps, "What do you even want from me? After all these years-"
"-Nothing has changed!" Elise snarls, shoving back at her. Their fingers lock. In the ensuing tussle she winds up yanking the brunette towards herself.
"It's always been you," Elise sputters into those lips, "But you know what this is between us, this dirty, filthy secret we claim to be love. This sin-"
And yet again the sudden taste of Cassandra's lips against hers robs her of her breath. Her dignity. Her self-control. Her resolve.
"If loving you is a sin," Cassandra breathes against her neck, "clothe me in your wicked depravity."
Slouched back in the library chair, Elsa stares back at the scene she's created. A glow spreads through her face. The whirring AC unit above wafts a gentle stream of warmth over the computer terminals. Her hands still fidget with one of Anna's letters, the words written within them such potent inspiration for all five thousand words of delightful escapism. In the back of her mind, Elsa knows it's not enough to numb her for what's coming next this afternoon. It's never enough. But in this moment seated in front of a library computer, she knows this chapter represents more than her own needs. This time - there's another person across the screen reading. And her heart clenches imagining Anna reading this chapter and thinking of her. Of them.
The PA system crackles with static the instant Elsa hits post on her account.
"Elsa Williams, please come to my office," Principal Anderson's voice cuts through her ears.
She's never heard her name on the PA before - and spends the next few seconds wondering if she imagined it. But it's not an imagination. Not with the way other students glare at her like she's just murdered a teacher.
"Fuck," Elsa curses behind her breath, before she slings her bag and plods over to Ms Anderson's office. Filled with books on everything from Pedagogy to Adolescent Psychology. The principal's already leaning on her hardwood desk when she knocks. White blouse hiding her athletic figure and blue eyes filled with years of an educator's experience behind dark rimmed glasses. Her blonde hair's been tied back into a ponytail. And Elsa's always wondered if she could be someone like her. Perhaps in a dozen or so years.
"Look Elsa, I'll be brief," Anderson's gentle eyes fall upon Elsa's frail posture.
"What did I do?" Elsa mouths back, immediately regretting the tone in her voice.
Anderson raises a hand, "You're not in trouble. We need to discuss something you've done, but let me make myself clear - you're not in trouble."
Elsa looks down at the woman's shiny black court shoes. So shiny she sees her own shaking frame in them.
"The use of the library facilities is limited for Academic purposes only. We went through a lot of trouble to get funding for this, so I'd assume you know why these rules are in place. It's only fair that we comply with the district board's requirements."
A rush of heat bursts through Elsa's face, and she nearly faints from the embarrassment. Even more so as Anderson steps closer.
"I'm sorry," Elsa stutters, "I won't do it again."
"Won't do what?"
Elsa swallows, "I won't write personal stuff on the library computers. Anymore."
Ms Anderson sighs, "Look, I know things have been hard for you personally-"
And the words are enough to flood a warmth behind her eyes. She clenches her fists and wills away the tears. Not wanting to break down in front of this prim and proper woman. Emanating all of the care and concern she doesn't deserve.
"But I want you to know it's completely fine to be different," Anderson says, "we're all unique individuals and that's what makes this school, or this world a beautiful place."
Despite Anderson's words being directed at her, all Elsa can think about is Anna. A girl from the other part of town who's so different and yet a soulmate she connects with.
"Thank you," Elsa mouths.
"You've given this school so much-"
And at the sound of those words, Elsa feels her soul lifting.
"-let us give something back to you. Come talk to me anytime you need to sort things out, you're not alone in this."
"I appreciate this very, very much ma'am," Elsa stammers out, before she looks up at her, "I actually have a family counselor, and I have an appointment now."
"Great!"
A shudder passes through Elsa's chest at the thought of what she has to go through next. A fear that dissolves the instant Anderson wraps her arms around her.
"Hang in there," Anderson whispers, as Elsa takes in the scent of copier paper and whiteboard marker and utter wisdom flowing through the woman, "just a few more months before you're outta here."
Just as she's gotten used to the comforting silence of Dr. Robertson's office, having an additional two people in there suddenly feels crowded like a hell full of sinners. Three people who might as well be strangers to each other at this point. Three pairs of folded arms.
"...I'd appreciate if you let me finish, Mr Williams," Robertson clears her throat, before looking at her notes, "but I'm glad all of us have sufficiently laid out the facts and we've come to terms about what happened. I'm not asking everyone to agree with everyone's point of view, but we can all agree on what's at stake here. For this family."
Elsa slinks back at the mention of the word family. Trying not to think of that Disneyland photo. Her dad's guitar music. Somehow lost in that stature of a man sitting across her looking away from her eyes.
"I do," Agnarr growls, gritting his teeth as though his next words would be his last, "Elsa is our only daughter."
Wait, what?
"What about you Mrs Williams? What do you feel is at stake here?"
"Whatever he said," Iduna mumbles.
"I believe we'd all like to hear it directly-"
"She's my only daughter," Iduna cracks, blinking as she looks away, "I'd be so lost without her."
Robertson turns to Elsa. She swallows back her seething contempt for the woman and tries to push away all the thoughts from the Principal's office this afternoon. Focusing only on the now. These two adults across her who crippled her self-esteem and chased her out of the house in the dead of the night. But yet.
"I-I didn't choose to come into this world, I didn't choose my parents," Elsa sighs, "B-but this is the only family I know. And despite everything, I just want things back the way they were before all of this happened."
And no matter how hard it is for her to say it, that giant burden still weighs her down like a rock. She rifles a hand through her hair, not recalling the last time Robertson's couch felt this uncomfortable. The silence makes her numb. And-
Neither of them are saying anything.
That's…new?
Elsa's heart lurches in time with her father tipping forward, elbows on his knees. Iduna's still turned away from her.
"That's great! We have something we can agree upon," Robertson chimes, before that faint beeping cuts her off, "I believe we still have a lot of things to work on, despite the promising progress we've made today."
Iduna's the first to bolt from her seat, before Robertson stops her with an open palm.
"Before we conclude today's session, I'd like to request a simple but challenging method of communication during your weeks ahead," Robertson removes her glasses and swivels her head at all three of them, "You don't necessarily have to agree with each other: opinions or values or whatever. But all of our emotions are valid. The point is that we've to see beyond those emotions in the person experiencing them. And understand where they're coming from. Focus on the problem at hand, and what's at stake - not the emotion."
And with her concluding remarks - the adults take back their phones before they're thrust back into the cold, austere office lobby. Agnarr stares at his phone and mumbles, "I gotta make a few calls."
And marches off, leaving Iduna face-to-face with her daughter. Alone for the first time in weeks.
She looks up into those eyes. Every instinct within her threatens a deluge of hatred towards her mother. But she sees those eyes twitching. Reddened. Glistening beneath the harsh lights. So she folds her arms and waits.
"Elsa."
Oh god there it is.
Elsa steels her mind against whatever new manipulative tactic she has up her sleeve. But there's a subtle trace of an unknown emotion behind that voice she can't put her finger to. Is that - sincerity?
"When I was your age," Iduna wipes at her eyes, "I made a lot of mistakes. School. Guys. I wouldn't say your father's one of my mistakes, but you were going to be born out of wedlock if he didn't commit to marrying me."
Elsa rolls her eyes, "So what, you're claiming I was a mistake? Way to go-"
"You were never a mistake," Iduna shakes her head, "I-I just don't want you to grow up and make the same ones I did."
A tear trickles down Iduna's cheek, but she doesn't bother wiping it away. Elsa feels her heart softening at the trembling lips, this odd display of emotion from a woman she's always imagined as rigid and composed. Her mother. Crying. This is something new.
"Maybe I am too harsh on you. Maybe I do give in to your father all the time. Maybe we don't share the same values or opinions or whatever it is Dr. Robinson says we don't, but," Iduna's mouth contorts as she looks away for a second, "but I meant everything I said. You're my only daughter and nothing's going to change that."
Elsa looks down at the floor. Twitching at her mother's tears on the grey marble and her own reflection.
"-Maybe," Iduna stammers, "Maybe the real mistake is me."
Her heart crumbles.
"Don't say that," Elsa whispers. Wishing she'd regret what she said but somehow doesn't.
"And I want to make up for my mistakes," Iduna concludes, reaching into her Bottega Tote bag, "starting from now."
Elsa looks at her iPhone clasped between those slim, manicured, tear-stained fingers. The breath slows in her throat and she tries swallowing that vague feeling throbbing up her gullet. Don't. Don't. Don't give into her.
This is the only family I know.
"C'mon mom," Elsa's heart is on the verge of melting, "you're the state DA - what could you possibly do that's a mistake?"
"The way I handled everything?" Iduna's voice breaks. Right before Elsa bites her lip and tugs at her elbow. The gentle gesture developing into a full-blown hug. One Elsa soaks in from the forgotten memory of just how long it's been since they've embraced. Inhaling the salty scent of her mother's tears and her Chanel perfume and that stiff trembly warmth which doesn't even come close to healing the rift between them.
But it does shift the walls a little lower.
More so when Iduna whispers a sputtery sob into her ear, "Don't tell your father about this."
Elsa: I got back my phone
Anna: u WUT. FINALLY.
Anna: I was already googling carrier pigeons
Elsa: All the messages are gone though.
Anna: WAT. WAT. what's the last thing i sent that got through?
Elsa: Your invite to the lounge. I'll make it there, I promise.
Elsa: I'm just wondering if anything you said got lost.
Anna: No - I stopped messaging after you stopped replying and switched to letters
Anna: plz dont be mad at me…
Elsa: How could I? I'll see you tomorrow night. Make sure you keep to the elder sister story ;)
"Thanks for the ride," Elsa mutters at Rapunzel.
"Don't thank me yet," Rapunzel answers, tugging Elsa along as she bounces up the pavement, "I'm not sending your ass home if you get rejected-"
"I think it's more likely your fake ID gets rejected."
"Stop! Don't jinx it-"
The days are getting longer, amber-rose sunset brimming on the horizon as the trees return their colour. She can hear the faint strum of guitar music from across the road as they skip across - and all at once she feels her heart tugging in that direction again. The bouncer's more handsome than she imagined a dozen times in her head. And he accepts Belle's ID with a grin. Before flashing a scowl at Elsa. Her face goes stone cold.
"I'm here to see my sister," Elsa mumbles, feigning fishing around her jeans for a wallet, "Anna."
His face lights up like a bulb, "Oh Anna? She's said so much about you - what a joy she is! Please go right ahead."
And Elsa couldn't sigh any louder as she steps past the rope. As her footsteps take her beyond the velvet curtains, her heart lurches when a whistle sounds.
"Yo Richards!" The bouncer calls out, "that singer's sister is here, put these two ladies near the front!"
Oh wow, Elsa thinks, Anna's quite something isn't she?
"Looks like your girlfriend's already made quite a splash here eh?" Rapunzel nudges Elsa with her elbow. And she doesn't even respond anymore, as a trace of pride filters into her heart.
She can't see much besides the rim of fairy lights strung around the stage. Rapunzel staggers back with their drinks; some kind of pink cocktail which burns down Elsa's throat with a mix of cloying sweetness and punch-drunk intoxication.
"Oh god," Elsa cringes, "this tastes like a flamingo."
"Shh," Rapunzel hushes, "it's starting."
Another taste floods through Elsa's mouth as the lights glow on stage. A single redhead appears. Those same torn jeans and a plaid shirt. Pigtails she adores. Scarcely any makeup save for the firey life ablaze in those eyes. Anna was born to stand before a crowd.
"Hope you're enjoying your evening, Charleston!"
The crowd scatters a weak applause, but none of that sways Anna. Who immediately starts her first song, gentle guitar music flowing around Elsa and that honey-sweet voice she'd dreamt about for days.
Do you love me yet?
I'll make myself a fool for you
Do you love me yet?
Just tell me what I've gotta do
Despite the heavenly music holding Elsa captive, scarcely any of the lounge patrons pay much heed to Anna's soft voice. Carrying on their conversations over meals or drinks. Rapunzel's texting someone, probably Eugene with a grin on her face. And Elsa - Elsa glues her eyes on the sway of Anna's hips as she strums away at the guitar and croons her melody with eyes closed. And when those luscious lashes flutter open again - they catch sight of each other. It spreads a huge grin on Anna's face, but she scarcely misses a note as she completes her song.
"Thanks so much for coming down tonight," Anna whispers into the mic, before she adjusts her hair, "I wrote this song for someone I hold dear to my heart. It's my hope too, that you'll hold those dear to you - close to your hearts as well."
Rapunzel lurches dangerously close to Elsa's ear, "Looks like this song's about you-"
And with every word that grips Elsa's heart tighter, that giddy rush of blood and alcohol spreads a warmer and redder blush across her face.
Sunlight dances in your hair,
like a melody so bright,
You fill my world with laughter,
making everything feel alright.
Your eyes hold galaxies unseen,
a depth that draws me near,
With every beat my heart repeats,
how much I hold you dear.
She can't hear anything else. Not the applause from the audience or Rapunzel goading her with taunts of ooh, ooh, ooh. Nor can she see anything else save for Anna's eyes looking directly at her. The gentle curve of her lips moving.
That one's for you.
And the only next thing she tastes is the rush of air into her lungs when Anna blows her a kiss.
The rough scrape of Rapunzel's handkerchief to her wet cheek snaps her back to reality.
"Oh my god, are you freaking crying?"
Elsa lets out a terse stutter, "I-I'm, I'm going to need your help to hold me through this."
There's an anchor weighing her down in this reality as her phone vibrates with messaging. But she clings onto this fantasy as hard as she can. Gripping the satin table cloth as Anna belts out song after song. Acoustic rock, love songs she made up herself, pop covers. All with her smooth playing and that beautiful voice which patches every wound her heart's endured over the past months. It brims her heart over with affection. And when Anna croons her final notes of the night. When those dim lights refract in a teary line off Anna's cheek - and she mouths to the audience in a stuttery whisper.
There's a very special someone in the audience here tonight.
Elsa finds it hard to resist lunging out of her seat as Anna steps off stage - and giving her the biggest hug she can drag that blessed redhead in. Right in front of the whole world.