Esmeralda's as tall as Elsa. But she's warm. And sweet. Unfortunately, not sweet enough to dull that bitterness surging within herself. Anna sinks within her embrace as they sway to some low-beat RAYE music. Lyrics about a lover running off with someone else. It stings. That barb pierces deeper into her chest as she soaks in Esmeralda's citrus-scented perfume. What did Dr Robinson say? Sort through your feelings, identify them like books on a shelf. Sure. Inadequacy. Poor self-esteem. Self-loathing. Disgust? She looks into Esmeralda's smokey green eyes, fingers skittering across a ring on her thumb. Adding another book to the shelf. Regret. Who wouldn't ask this woman out? She's a goddess.
They'd be perfect for each other, wouldn't they?
Her heart cracks. Esmeralda leans close to her ears and says she's not waiting around any longer. And to please call her "Esse".
Anna wonders if she'll ever get to the pet names phase of a hypothetical friendship with Elsa. Or if she's forever going to call her Ice Bitch in her heart.
The rest of the night ends quickly. Hauling off a half-drunk Belle. Who got hit on by Hans of all people. Telling her to hold it in until they get to a bathroom. None of it is necessary. The short walk back to the dorm and her recent uptick in fitness makes hauling a tipsy friend up the stairs a less lung-crushing ordeal than she anticipated. Miraculously, Belle does hold it in. She's promptly put to bed with a glass of water and aspirin next to her bookshelf. The litany of titles reflecting all the rotting emotions still festering in her chest.
It's been forever since she's inebriated herself. That giddy throb refuses to lift. She lays on top of her blankets after a shower. Arms folded. Eyes pried wide open despite the long night.
Fucking Ice Bitch.
But Elsa stood Esmeralda up, didn't she?
Anna clenches her jaw.
Her heart skips at the memory of how Esmeralda's breath danced across her cheek. Fluttering down her neck. That look in her eyes, all comfort and sultry warmth wrapped around her waist. It's easy. Too easy for Anna to shut her eyes and imagine those tan-skinned arms replaced by long, pale ones. Glimmering, half-lidded blue eyes bearing the same warmth. Heat blossoms through her chest when the image at the front of her mind sharpens. Steep cheekbones. Lithe, firm muscles hidden behind those gym clothes. A breath lifts her soul.
Elsa.
The name drifts off her tongue like a cloud. Anna's eyes flutter open, widening further when she notices her fingertips have dipped beneath the waistband of her panties.
"Perv," she chides herself.
She feels a tug. Hunger. Those fingers dip deeper. Hips arch to meet her own touch. She sighs. She moans. She hears four letters leave her lips in a breath of unmet longing. A glow cascades across her body in brighter and warmer layers of searing, radiant heat. And right before she catches fire, Anna reaches for the shelf that is her soul. Adding one more book between self-loathing and regret.
Guilt.
The shelves are still full when Anna wakes up. Her head feels mired in jelly-soaked cotton wool. She stares at her sneakers for a good ten minutes before hauling her ass out the front door. Channeling her seething disgust at herself from last night, she makes it through ten laps without stopping. But the pride still eludes her as she buckles over after the last lap. Trying not to alarm the groundskeeper as she dry-retches what little beer's left inside her stomach.
Anna's legs burn from the run. Her brain feels like a dehydrated hay bale. Her stomach aches like the imploded remnants of a black hole. And the bookshelf of her soul now has every single title replaced with self-loathing. Despite this, she recalls Belle's hungover ass still languishing in bed and microwaves an extra batch of oatmeal for her. One that lights up her huge eyes when she finally emerges from the bedroom. Looking more dishevelled than her usual prim self.
She covers her face, "Oh my god, you went running? How on earth did you wake up after last night?"
Anna slides over the bowl, "Don't ask, you're the one who's hungover. Dig in! I don't think I got the recipe nailed down just right though."
A spoon goes into her mouth, before Belle feigns a choking sound and gets slapped over the head.
"Stop it!"
"Ok, ok - not bad for a first attempt," Belle takes another mouthful, "mine's still way better."
"Remind me not to go drinking with you again," Anna answers, "or at least not without a few other friends, god."
"I haven't partied for ages - I'm so sorry."
"And you were on the receiving end of my asshole friend's advances, so I guess that makes us even."
"Hans is your friend? What a skeeze-"
"He's been like this since…forever."
The buzzing noise on Anna's phone cuts her off. Mom. Oh shit. Anna excuses herself and answers the call in her room. That reflection in her mirror a reminder of how drained she looks from just a single night out.
"Sweetie, I'm so sorry for calling, it's been awhile-"
"No!" Anna interrupts, "No, no - I'm sorry I haven't been saying much recently. With school and everything."
"I hope I'm not bugging you, did you have a good night with Belle?"
Anna looks over her shoulder at Belle, ploughed face-first into the table with a spoonful of oatmeal still in her hand.
"Yea! We had a great time! I ran into Hans actually."
A thick moment of silence passes. Before Iduna's voice dribbles back with an ominous warning, "I'm sure he's a nice guy. But he did cheat on Anderson's daughter Katie so-"
"He's not getting near me," Anna shakes off the residual disgust from his touch, "I had to fend him off with a stick last night."
"Good," Iduna sighs, the exasperation evident.
"Mom, is, um, is everything alright?"
This time, Anna can almost see the ruffle of her mother's hair as she rakes a hand through it. A nervous tic. One she's seen all too many times.
"I actually called to tell you something," Iduna's voice drones deep with dread, "Your father's parole hearing is coming up soon."
Her eyes shoot wide open. All at once, she feels the walls closing on her mind again. Fifty hours. Slightly more if he goes after Iduna first. Fuck. Her eyes flit to the window. And the door. And Belle, caught in the middle of it all. Sleeping. Unaware. Her skin flashes red hot in a blistering panic. Nails grate the table. When she sees her relection again, Anna shudders at the fear, rife within those eyes.
"T-that's….fast," Anna croaks out, keeping the panic from rising.
"I talked to the folks at San Quentin, he could be out in as little as three months."
Anna swallows hard. Calm down. Her senses swim back into focus. You can handle it. Your mom can handle it.
"Mom, w-will you be safe?" Anna asks, not knowing if she wants to hear an answer.
"I've told Aunt Arianna, if he tries anything I'll stay at her place. We're already separated so he can't touch a damn thing," Iduna growls through the line, "I'm only worried about you, sweetie."
That tide of fear recedes as her fist clenches around the handle of a drawer. She yanks it open. A Stanley knife drops into her purse. Before giving her mother one last reassurance.
"Let him come."
Anna's voice is a spark of life amidst the sleepy-headed students showing up for an 8am chemistry tutorial. The teacher takes notice. Promptly interrupting her when she answers the fourth question in a row.
"Hydrocarbon with two or more bond-"
"No, not you. Can someone other than Anna give an answer?" his eyes sweep the sloping lecture hall, before settling on a frizzy crop of brown hair Anna hadn't even noticed, "How about you, Miss Cortez?"
Esmeralda looks at him, before muttering, "Hydrocarbon with two or more bonds-"
"Good."
Glimmering green eyes sweep back at her, worn down with lack of sleep. They light up for a brief instant with a wink, before she swivels back. Esmeralda's in Chem? She feels her heart soften. But unease still hums against her ribcage. She taps her pen on the table until they're dismissed to finish their assignments.
The brunette trots up the steps and shuffles past empty chairs before she finds one next to Anna. Eyes behind a pair of tortoiseshell glasses. Her voice rasps with thirst.
"Thanks for saving me."
"We're even stevens now, I guess," Anna chirps.
Esmeralda chuckles. God, I should be annoyed at her. Why is it so hard?
"Have you found partners for the assignment?" Esmeralda asks.
"There were two girls who seemed pretty cool, but I don't think they made it today," Anna complains, "who on earth sets tutorials at 8am on a Friday?"
"You still showed up."
"So did you."
"I was late."
Anna huffs, fluttering a fringe. She takes out her half-completed Chemistry assignment and templates of molecular models they're expected to create. Esmeralda has nothing on her. But makes herself useful by creasing the colourful shapes of Carbon and Hydrogen atoms.
"You're smart aren't you?" Esmeralda suggests, "I never learned this back in Tijuana."
Her fingers freeze on the creased sheet of A4 paper. Chemistry. Mugging in the library until it closed. Fearful of heading back from school early just to see a Ford SUV parked outside the driveway. Raised voices inside.
"I don't know," Anna smiles, "I just like chemistry I guess."
No you don't.
"You going for boxing later?" Esmeralda asks, before her manicured nails accidentally rip through the paper, "Ah, mierda-"
"Here, use this," Anna fishes out a Stanley knife, setting it on the table with a clunk.
"I don't even know why you learn boxing if you carry this around with you all the time."
Her mind wanders, watching Esmeralda cut patterns into the imaginary molecules like a patchwork of fabric. Gluing together Hexenes and Alkenes. A question forms on the tip of her tongue. She hesitates. But asks it anyway.
"This might be a silly question, but what made you pick up boxing?"
Esmeralda frowns momentarily, before her lips lift into a smile, "Probably my girlfriend's influence. She was a boxer back in Mexico. Fought on the pro-circuit and all-"
A wave of relief sweeps through Anna until she breaks through the foamy tide and asks herself why. Why does it feel like a huge spike of respite?
"You have a boxer girlfriend," Anna smiles, "Is she going to beat the shit out of me if she caught us dancing together?"
Esmeralda's eyes lock onto hers. Every trace of life within them empties into the classroom's dead air.
"I said was," Esmeralda's voice drops, "Miranda lost her life in the drug wars, unfortunately."
That wave turns murky black. Dragging Anna deep within its dark depths.
"Oh god, I'm so sorry - I had no idea."
Esmeralda shakes her head, curly brown tresses swishing to and fro, "I moved here to get away from it all. But I knew she wasn't someone I'd forget easily."
"W-were you two close?"
A pause. There's a faint tremble in her lips. Anna doesn't flinch when the brown-haired woman reaches out a pair of knuckles and grazes them gently over her cheekbones. It's the slightest of gestures, but already she feels that warmth healing her bruises from years ago.
"Miranda had freckles - just like you. A rarity in Mexico," Esmeralda whispers, "I took up boxing to remember her. And I remembered her when I saw you."
Kristoff's imagined voice sails in through the surf. You're running from something. So is she. Perhaps she's found it in the gym. The thought slides her hand across the table, closing upon the assortment of jewelry adorning Esmeralda's wrist.
"You're a nice person, Esse - you'll find someone fabulous," Anna assures her, "I know it."
"Oh stop it, you," Esmeralda pats her hand, "you're going to make me cry and ruin our model."
Anna chuckles.
"Speaking of which," Esmeralda dabs a final touch of glue to a model of an Ethanol Molecule, "I'm all done."
Fingers trail over the dried glue. It's flawless. But all Anna can think about is that same molecule coursing through her father's veins. Giving fire to his voice. Heat in his hands. Her eyes return to Esmeralda, coming from a city rife with the same violence she ran from. Yet she's still here. Anna shakes her head.
"You don't like it?"
"No, it's perfect," Anna comments, "thanks so much for helping with this. I'm god-awful at handicraft."
"Thank you," Esmeralda giggles, before she gathers her books, "See you later at boxing, alright?"
Anna bites her lip as she watches that gleeful character bounce out the classroom. That steady thrum of unease still worms its way into her heart. It makes her feel small. All these souls in college with stories like hers. Choosing to move on in life while she's still stuck in one spot. Pining for a girl that'll forever remain out of reach. As she gingerly carries that paper model to the teacher's desk - Anna's mind churns with another thought.
Maybe I'm just not good enough for this place.
Several more names have appeared on the fight sign-up sheet. Elsa's already training when she arrives; blasting at the heavy bags like they've murdered her parents. For the first time, she actually looks winded. The icy-cool gaze has melted into a flustered stare. It's new. It almost looks-
-looks like it's none of your business.
Anna grits her teeth. Sets her own timer. Starts training by herself. Staring at her own reflection like it stole her lunch money. Throws imaginary punches at that freckled face like she's trying to extract a debt owed to her from years of trauma. She loses herself in training until a loud grunt snaps her concentration.
It's Esmeralda. Working on the pads with Kristoff. Sweat glazes her shoulders and she appears to be smashing them harder than usual. Elsa hasn't so much as a thrown a glance at either of them. And likewise. A moment of ambivalence passes, before the beeping of a timer sweeps it away.
"Sparring!" Kristoff shouts above the chorus of ragged, heaving breaths peppering the heavy air.
What?
We're going to fight right now? Anna's eyes fly from student to student. Huge shoulders. Tattooed forearms. She wants to crawl out of her skin right the fuck now. Her head swivels to the door. In the glassy reflection, she makes out Kristoff pointing Esmeralda in her direction. Oh thank fuck.
"Looks like it's you and me-" Esmeralda jabs her in the shoulder with 12oz gloves, "Are you gonna kick my ass?"
"For carrying you at Chem today?"
Esmeralda's mouth opens in mock-jawed shock, "Oh! Is that how it is?"
Anna covers her mouth and giggles. The light-hearted joy evaporates in a flash when she notices in the corner of her eye - Elsa standing before Zangief. A fair-haired lamb staring at a lion nearly half a foot taller.
Kristoff smacks his mitts together, "Let's go!"
The most light-hearted of taps grazes her jaw.
"Ow!" Anna rubs her chin, "Did you just sucker punch me?"
"There're still three minutes for you to get even!"
Anna laughs and punches her back in the guard. Almost a tap, really. And Esmeralda slogs her back with the lightest of touches. They take turns trading light blows, giggling at each other when their gloves clash and slip past guards. When the timer finally beeps the end of a round, they're both keeled over and winded. Unsure if they're out of breath from actually boxing or laughing this hard.
She looks up. Watching Elsa and Zangief still going at it like an actual championship bout. There's the same stone-cold stare deep in her eyes as she catches him with jab after jab. Zangief appears confused by Elsa's speed. Before he catches her hard on the cheek with a hook.
A gasp vacates all the air in Anna's lungs. She bolts upright in time to see Elsa dock him back with another hook. Christ. She didn't even stumble. Didn't even wait. And they're back at it again. Anna's entire being appears possessed by a trance, her thoughts grasping helplessly towards the blonde as she battles a hulk of a man. The wide-eyed shock doesn't go unnoticed; Kristoff's voice makes a sudden appearance in her ear.
"She's going to be fine, Elsa's made of iron," Kristoff says, "this is what training for a fight looks like."
The timer starts again, but Anna wilts quickly like a rose in the desert sun. Esmeralda takes advantage with glee and catches her guard down repeatedly. Always the right hand. Always that same corner of her eye looking out for Elsa. The faintest of swells sprouts on Elsa's pale skin. It's enough to send a throb beneath Anna's. She sees a fist hurtling towards her hard, right before the timer beeps and Esmeralda cuts herself short. The flinch backwards makes Anna stumble.
"Christ, you would've knocked my head off with that one," Anna bump gloves with her, "Thank you."
"Are you alright?" Esmeralda hooks an arm over Anna's shoulder, "You seemed a bit distracted at the second round."
Anna squeezes her close, wondering if the pounding in her chest comes from the exercise, or something else.
"Yes, yes I was."
She sees Elsa outside the sports centre. Sitting on an empty bench in the quadrangle. Slender fingers rubbing that spot on her cheekbone. The blonde catches sight of Anna and immediately drops her hand. Leaping to her feet when she comes closer.
A knot ties itself around Anna's throat. Her eyes wander away, looking for a different path back to her dorm. Dammit she's in my way. Say something!
What's the point?
Anna approaches. Those crystal-like blue eyes lock onto hers. It takes every bit of strength she's forgot she has to meet them.
"Uh, hi."
Elsa stares back at her. Here we go again. Just duck your head and keep walk-
"Wow that Russian dude caught you hard on the cheek," Anna chirps, "Didn't it hurt? He looks really big and scary-"
"He punches like a pussy," Elsa cuts her off. Oh god, that voice. Delicate and feather thin. Like it's been broken far too many times and still put together of its own accord. She'd never imagine it'd come from someone as strong as Elsa.
"Still," Anna points at her cheek, "looks like he hurt you."
Elsa shrugs, stuffing her hands into hoodie pockets before she noticeably drops her eyes to the pavement, "I've had worse."
That voice cracks. A faint hairline that leads to litany of questions from Anna's head. A worse what? A worse punch? A worse hurt?
"Y-you've had-"
"Hey, it's Anna - yea?" Elsa's eyes light up. A smile spreads across her lips. Thin and jittery. Anna's breath catches so hard she strains to breathe.
"You've been boxing here for awhile now, you're getting really good," Elsa turns away and flashes her a thumb, "Keep up the training, alright?"
A glow spreads through Anna's chest. That warmth touches every pore in her sweaty body and she doesn't even feel the cold breeze upon her. And when she lets out that breath she'd been inadvertently holding, it comes out in ragged spurts. Like she's back at the gym again, slogging for her life.
She noticed me. The joy of that realisation settles into her head. And she feels her heart swelling like a balloon, lifting her off in the direction of that blonde crop of hair disappearing into another dorm. Wanting to shake her and ask her to repeat herself just to know what she said was real and not an imagination.
Elsa fucking Williams noticed me!
