Her farewell to the Seoul office would not be complete without a covert reminder that all they needed to move along with the international plans was for her to green-light it. Elsa swallowed down the big fat NO THANKS that threatened to escape her lips at that. Needless to say, she hadn't figured out a courteous way to decline the offer yet.
Her smile was strained as if she had been chewing on glass, though her discomfort luckily went unnoticed. It would suck to foul the party's celebratory mood, so she shoved the job offer to the confines and forced herself to have fun. Her coworkers tried to get her drunk on soju one last time; promises of future visits were made; she laughed so hard her stomach hurt… It was bittersweet, and a pang in her chest confirmed she would certainly miss those frantic unfamiliar days.
And now, she's back. Home sweet home.
Or something like that.
Elsa thought she would be giddier to come back, but as it is, her return only reinforces the deafening ticking of the clock that represents her life. And what's worse, she isn't any closer to making up her mind than she was, say three days ago. Around the same time she had talked to Jack last, come to think of it. After the abrupt end of their last conversation, his calls had gone straight to voice mail, and his messages had been left unread. Eventually, Jack likely got fed up and ceased his attempts at communication altogether. That's what she wanted, isn't it?
On one hand, the silence gives her time to dissect things and make sense of her emotions. And theF truth is, she misses that stupid jerk. She misses those pointless discussions that went on for hours uninterrupted. She misses his point-blank opinions, even if they pissed her off more than anything. Misses his sassy comebacks. Misses hearing him laugh at his own jokes, urging a reaction from her, no matter how small. She misses him.
Her plane lands midday, and she's only expected back in the office tomorrow, so Elsa makes lunch plans with her sister. She gives Anna all the novelty knick-knacks and skincare products she's brought from Korea and they talk about trivialities for the majority of the meal. The risotto looks great, but Elsa's lost her appetite—she'd felt queasy since takeoff, and the rice is bland on her tastebuds.
At some point, Anna sighs and sets down her water with an impatient clunk. "Alright. Out with it."
Elsa frowns. "What do you mean?"
"You've been moving your food around for the past ten minutes."
"I'm just jetlagged," Elsa immediately justifies, but Anna doesn't seem to buy a single fraction of it. Maybe her sister can see the heavy bags under her eyes or the ashiness of her skin (much as she tried, all the makeup in the world could not hide the hollowness seared on her face). Or maybe it's Anna's trusty sister-meter flaring up. Whatever it is that gives her away, Elsa can't hide from Anna's perception.
With a hint of mocking in her tone, Anna muses, "For someone who hates showing emotion, you sure as hell have a lousy poker face."
"Excuse you, my poker face is outstanding."
"Mmhmm." Anna chews slowly, her stern eyes locked on Elsa's. "Is this about your Jack problem?"
"Jackson Overland can definitely be classified as one of my problems, yes," Elsa grumbles, trying to ignore the pressure squeezing her heart.
Anna cocks her head to one side. "What happened? I thought you were taking things slow with him."
"So slow that the whole train started moving backward."
"Okay. Explain."
Elsa hunches forward, burying her face in her hands. "He said he liked making me smile and that I drove him nuts… and then I hung up and we haven't talked in more than three days."
Anna blinks, her brain processing Elsa's declaration. She blinks some more. "Why?"
An anguished laugh slips Elsa's throat. "It just… happened."
"And you didn't think that, I don't know, maybe you should fix it?"
"Didn't seem like I had that right, considering—" Elsa stops short of blurting out about the job offer and the required moving out of the country that would come with her new position. Anna nearly had a panic attack when she learned Elsa would be gone for three weeks. There's no telling what could happen this time. Not that it mattered; Elsa wasn't taking the job. "Never mind. What's done is done."
Anna snorts, incredulous. "You're clearly not done with your—sorry, don't shoot the messenger but somebody's gotta say it… your situationship. What are you gonna do about it?"
"I don't know. I guess… we'll see each other in the office tomorrow," Elsa mumbles with a tired sigh.
"You sure you wanna have your dramatic reencounter in front of all your coworkers?"
Her eyebrows furrow. Just imagining that scene made her hyperventilate with social anxiety. She's not certain what she expects to happen when she meets Jack again, but there sure as hell shouldn't be an audience to witness the whole ordeal. "Hmm… Maybe not."
"Ask him out."
"I can't go from radio silence to… asking him out like that!"
"Says who?"
"The unwritten rules of decorum, probably."
"Fuck decorum. You slept with him after getting lit at a Christmas party!"
A choked cough comes from a nearby table, and Elsa feels the back of her neck heating up. She chides, "Indoor voices, Anna."
Anna throws her hands in the hair and huffs. "Fine, don't ask him out then and keep wallowing in your misery like an eighteenth-century lovesick damsel in her high ivory tower."
"I'm not wallowing. Who said anything about wallowing?" Elsa snaps like a petulant brat.
"Elsa. Come on. I don't know why you freaked out, but it's obvious you want to talk to him. So just talk to him ."
Elsa sags on her seat. Her body feels so heavy. She takes a deep and controlled breath with her eyes closed. "You're right. I should call him; the least he deserves is an apology."
"Atta girl." Anna grins, picking up her fork and popping a piece of chicken into her mouth. She's still munching when she adds with a terrifying grin on her face, "Worst case scenario, you two end up having angry sex tonight, and let's be real here, that's never gonna be a bad idea in my book!"
One time, when Elsa and Jack were working late, he got mad at her because she had the audacity to put mushrooms and bell peppers on her half of the pizza they were splitting. He called her a sociopath. It wasn't unusual for him to lose his composure; she had a knack for getting him riled up just as he had when it came to herself. But that night, for the first time, he seethed. Still, the scorn he displayed then is nothing compared to what he must be feeling now. For when she texts him inviting him to have dinner at her place, he only replies hours later with a mere Sure. With a period at the end. And no inappropriate emojis or follow-up memes she doesn't understand. One word and it speaks volumes about the things he decides not to share.
Elsa debates bailing, coming up with a washed-up excuse—an airport virus, or a flooded bathroom, but her sister is right. She wants to make amends. Running again will not do her any good. Yet it's hard not to fear the confrontation.
She cooks dinner because, after three weeks of living in a hotel room, Elsa misses a homemade meal. He arrives at eight on the dot, and she can't tell whether it's a good sign or a bad one.
"Thanks for coming," she says to the floor, playing with the strap of her apron for something to do.
"Sure," he grunts, because that's the only word in his vocabulary, apparently, and thrusts a bottle of red wine onto her hands.
Eyes flying anywhere but in his direction, she awkwardly leads him to the kitchen, where he lets out a surprised curse.
"How many people are you expecting?"
Elsa takes in the dinner she had been preparing for the last couple of hours from his perspective and… she can't deny, it's a sight. A beautiful steak rests on the cast iron pan; there's a massive casserole of mac and cheese on the counter, roasted veggies, garlic bread, Caesar salad, and brownies made from scratch.
"I missed cooking," she mumbles, going to the stove and pretending that a pan of mushroom sauce needs stirring.
"Jesus, now I feel bad I only brought store-bought wine."
"You couldn't even grow your own grapes?" she mocks, attempting a smile from across the kitchen peninsula.
Jack raises one eyebrow, cautious. There's tension in his jaw like he's a cornered wild animal just waiting for her to attempt an attack first. "Next time." The edge on what would usually be his easy, casual flirting makes her hackles rise.
"I'm sorry I ignored your calls," she blurts out, pouring all of her sincerity into those words.
He shrugs. "It's fine. Not like you owe me your time or anything."
"I owe you at least an explanation." She pulls two glasses out of the cabinet and sets them between them on the counter. "Let me pour us some of this obnoxious wine and I'll tell you everything."
He stares, studying her, trying to figure out her game. It's unnerving, and she feels exposed under his scrutiny. It takes all she has not to cower away from his gaze.
"Alright," Jack says at last and pulls one of the stools. "Hit me with with your worst."
She starts by telling him about the Korean office, about the work—NDA be damned—, her teammates, the fast-paced flow, but she's dawdling. To his credit, he simply rolls with it, making her stomach knot with his amused chuckles and his teasing, letting her babble about trivialities until she's ready to lay it all down. Then comes the job offer, because of the pressing issues, that seem like the easier topic to tackle. She jokes about how unprepared she is for that kind of role, and how big of a mistake the directors have made when they decided to put her name on the list of candidates.
"I bet they only picked me because I'm a doormat," she jokes bitterly between sips of wine. They have switched to dinner, but the second glass of wine she's been nursing since sitting down to eat is soon to become empty.
"My life would be a lot less antagonistic if you were a doormat." His tone is impersonal, matter-of-fact. "A lot less friction, if you know what I mean."
"I don't," she says, but she's blushing, and she knows he sees her blushing too. With too big of a shrug, she continues, "Anyway, I'm hoping that if I stall long enough, they'll find someone better for the position."
"There are people who would kill for that job. Not me, because it sounds like a bureaucratic nightmare, but you know, some lunatics would probably be interested."
"I don't mind the bureaucracy," she admits. "It's the people-managing that worries me. I'm not cut out for that."
"You know the job we were competing for"—he gestures with his finger between them—"requires a good deal of people-managing. Leadership skills, yadda yadda."
"I was hoping I could overcompensate that with my technical prowess."
Jack scowls at her, shaking his head with incredulity.
"What?" she asks, a spark of anger making her internal temperature rise.
"Why are you trying to convince yourself you're not good enough for the job?"
"Because I'm not," Elsa deadpans.
"They wouldn't offer it if you weren't," he counters vehemently. "Let's be real, Arendelle: It hurts me to admit this, but you and your stupid supercomputer brain fucking breezed through the Korean office—which, now that you've told me the full story, I have a strong feeling was an audition—, showed the bosses you're skilled, versatile and you know how to make your voice heard. You're a good team player—unless I'm involved. You're a stuck-up little shit whenever we have to work together, but otherwise, you're fine. And maybe most important of all, you're too stubborn to fail. No one else would be a better fit than you."
His words echo in her head for a moment as she tries to sort out her thoughts. She understands Jack genuinely believes what he's saying, but… Could he be right? She's been telling herself since the beginning that her bosses have made a mistake in picking her, maybe it started to warp her perspective down the line. Elsa isn't one to fish for compliments, but damn, it feels good to be on the receiving end of that kind o validation. It's like a switch clicks and she can't fight the job's appeal anymore.
Her head buzzes. She sucks in a breath slowly to steady herself. "Are you sure you're not just trying to reduce the competition for the analyst job?" she tries to divert the conversation from herself.
"Yes, that's exactly what I'm doing." Jack rolls his eyes. "I should probably be flattered that you'd rather move across the world than face the possibility of having to work for me, really."
"Trust me, Overland, the chance of you miraculously becoming my boss has not once crossed my mind."
"Oh, fuck off," Jack groans, then leans back on his chair, head cocked to the side, smirk gracing the corner of his lips. He plays with his glass, making the wine inside swirl. "So? Are you gonna take the job?"
She straightens her posture. Her mental pros and cons list keeps growing, but this time, Elsa allows herself to weigh the pros as well. She'll get a raise. It'll force her to step out of her comfort zone, she'll travel, meet new people, sharpen her skills… Hardship would be an understatement, but the rewards of success make her salivate with greed. An exciting thrill runs through her veins. Conviction solidifies within.
"Yes," she says, and it hurts how right it feels to say it. "I'm taking the job."
They shift to the couch for dessert, the air lighter, remnants of their late-night phone bickering seeping into this in-person reencounter. Still, the elephant has not left the room, and the occasional bumps into its rough skin become more and more frequent as the night goes on.
After scraping the last streaks of ice cream from his second bowl, Jack goes for the open box of Girl Scout cookies on the coffee table, because his stomach is a bottomless pit, she's just discovered.
The cookies were courtesy of Anna, from the not-so-secret bottom drawer stash of emergency de-stressing snacks she keeps in her office. Elsa must've looked a lot more distraught than she assumed if Anna was willing to part with her precious thin mints for Elsa.
"Bet these won't be easy to find wherever you're stationed next," he mumbles, waving with the box in his hand.
"My sister is the biggest Girl Scout cookies aficionado there is, I'm sure she'll be thrilled to add international smuggling to her list of petty crimes." Elsa looks down at her lap and sighs. "Hopefully that will soften the blow of me moving out of the country."
Jack shifts on his side of the couch so he can face her. "Oh, she doesn't know yet?"
"Until half an hour ago, I was seriously considering turning it down," she reminds him with an eye roll.
"Yeah, you were," he laughs. In the corner of her vision, she catches his grin. The annoying prick feels so proud of himself right now. Idiot. "You are very welcome, Arendelle."
She sighs. "Thank you. I am so looking forward to the Sisyphean task of overseeing a mix-and-match team of lab rats."
"Already know where your fancy new office will be?"
"Probably Korea."
"Cool. I accept your eternal gratitude in the form of a monthly supply of snacks."
"You expect me to send you snacks." The words roll out of her tongue slowly, unnecessarily articulated. "From the other side of the Pacific Ocean. Every month."
He turns to face her, one arm draped over the couch's backrest, head tilted. There's a shift in the mood, a new intensity in his nonchalant smile. "I think it's only fair."
"Think again, idiot." Her voice is hoarse; mouth has dried up. She licks her lower lip.
Jack reaches over; his thumb follows the path her tongue has just traced. The barely there touch is so charged with emotion, so intense Elsa can't help but feel her eyes misting up.
"I can't be the weaver," she chokes out, pressure tightening her vocal cords and making it hard to breathe. Her pulse is pounding.
His hand freezes. "What?"
Elsa carefully takes his hand and holds it on her lap. Her finger strokes the heart line on his palm. She can't meet his eyes anymore. "A year… is far too long. And a day too short to make up for that sort of absence. If I'm taking the job, I have to commit one hundred percent."
A lonely tear slides down her cheek, but she ignores it. He, not so much. His free hand cups her jaw, thumb wiping the wetness clinging onto her lashes. Her choked sob is half cry, half laugh. Voice barely audible, she whispers, "I can't leave a piece of my heart behind."
"I understand." He sounds pained, tired. Dejected.
When she chances a glance at him, there's longing in his eyes. Like he's mourning an irreplaceable loss. Of all the things that could've been. Elsa feels it too. His vulnerability breaks something inside her, and the tears come rolling down unabashedly.
"I'm so sorry. It's all my fault."
Jack smiles, and the gentleness underneath the hurt is genuine. He links their fingers together and gives her hand a tight squeeze. "Hey. I'm still totally supportive of your decision. Even if it means it's not the right time for us right now."
"Our timing sucks."
He snorts. "You could say that again."
"To think that it only took me moving to the other side of the globe for us to start getting along."
"We got along fine before, you melodramatic worrywart. But we also happen to work for the same company and we're productive like there's no tomorrow when we're trying to one-up the other."
"True." Elsa laughs as she wipes the remaining of her tears with her sleeve. She bites her lip, shy and completely out of her element. "So… are we good?"
"We're good, Elsa." His smile widens a little. He nudges her with his knee playfully. "Best friends forever, remember?"
"I never agreed to that," she scoffs.
"You speak as if you ever had a choice."
"On that note, thank you for your services," she says her voice customer-service polite. Elsa doesn't mean to be difficult, but the banter comes so naturally it's scary. "I am officially relieving you of your watering duties."
Jack pouts. "Aw, I'm gonna miss Edgar. You're keeping the googly eyes right?"
"Absolutely not."
"You can't take them off! Edgar is like everybody's new mascot." He glares at her. "He's way more popular than you ever were."
"Was that supposed to be a diss?"
"You're a monster. I hope you enjoy all the shunning you're bound to get."
"I'll take my chances." Elsa rolls her eyes, and he chuckles.
"By the way, why the hell do you get to be the fancy princess in this analogy? I am way more weaver material than you."
"Like you've ever weaved in your damn life."
"And you have?" he throws back, his expression an equal mix of indignance and honest curiosity.
"I've dabbled in knitting before." She shrugs. Knitting is not a weaving technique. But Jack probably is unaware of the intricacies of textile production. And as far as she is concerned, there is no harm in keeping him oblivious on the matter.
"Jesus. You are so lame."
"Well, joke's on you, isn't it? For—" Liking me is what she wants to say but stops the words from slipping through her lips. Nonetheless, he seems to hear them all the same.
Jack drops his head back, one hand runs through his hair. There's so much dejection in the gesture, so much conflicting emotions. It's like they're a set of marionettes, invisible wires linking them together and the smallest of the twitches tugs her to him. He moves, she moves. He feels, she feels. It's such a raw connection it's disorienting. She's never felt this way before.
Reading her thoughts like only he and his idiotic arrogance ever could, Jack gives her a sheepish grin. "Yeah. I guess it is."
The morning of Elsa's return to the office is filled with hugs, and laughter, and gossip, and people asking all sorts of things about Korea and their company's Asian headquarters. It's very busy but not entirely unpleasant. She somehow manages to enjoy all the attention.
"Oh damn," Hiccup mumbles as he practically inhales the bag of spicy chips she gifted him when she stopped by his desk.
"Right?" Elsa chuckles. "I must've eaten at least one bag a day while I was there."
"Where do I sign up to get transferred to the Korean office?"
"Why's everybody wanting to go to the Korean office these days?" A grumpy Jackson Overland interrupts as he drops his backpack on the floor and glares at them from his desk.
"Hey, buddy. Elsa brought souvenirs." Hiccup waves his chips. "They're up for grabs in the break room."
"Hmph," Jack grunts, then tips a nonexistent hat in Elsa's direction. "Arendelle."
"Good morning, Overland," she tersely replies, smoothing a hand over the front of her jacket.
Jack and Elsa decided to cut all contact, reasoning that it'd make parting ways easier in the end. They're still supposed to see each other in the office, however, which is both uncomfortable and a little exciting at the same time, like seeing your crush back at school after a long summer apart. And obviously, all of that is kept under wraps. To everybody else in the office, nothing has changed between them, and any awkwardness witnessed is nothing but another facet of the poorly unveiled contempt they've nurtured for years.
Hiccup continues to crunch his chips unaware, or at the very least uninterested in his coworkers' riveting interaction.
"God, you're a lousy eater!" Jack snaps at the other guy, probably a little harsher than the situation requires. "Go eat your stupid chips somewhere else!"
"Sheesh," Hiccup hisses as he recoils away, still chewing as loudly as before. "Someone didn't have their hit of morning caffeine today."
"I see your mood is as terrific as ever," Elsa mocks.
He crosses his arms, chin tilted back, staring at her like she's the size of a Pomeranian. "Bite me."
"Pass," she announces.
He snickers. "I thought we weren't flirting anymore."
She blinks once slowly. "I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that… And this… is for you." Elsa holds up a small paper bag. "Don't even start. It's a thank-you gift for watering my plant."
"Did you change your mind about the googly eyes?"
"No way. But do feel free to stick as many of those silly things on this one," she says as she pulls out a tiny succulent from the bag.
He lowers his voice to ask, "Is this from your place?"
"How did you…?"
Jack taps the ceramic pot in response. It's not really a memorable piece—uneven shades of dark blue and a little crooked on the sides, but the fact that he still manages to connect the dots makes her blush.
"Anyway," Elsa clears her throat, ignoring the blood rush she feels reddening her cheeks. "I'm trying to find new homes for my plants."
"Oh, you're not taking them with you?"
She hums, tucking a lock of hair that has come loose from her bun back into place. "Not sure I can. From a legal standpoint."
She means it. She hasn't looked up what the laws state yet, but it's hard to believe the authorities will take kindly to her transporting dozens of assorted plants from another country.
"Yeah, I can see how that could be a problem." He smirks. "So you're getting rid of your disposables and figured I would be a suitable junkyard. Cool."
"Clearly, I've made a mistake. Give it back."
"Nuh-uh." He holds the plant above his head, plentifully out of her reach, and enjoys taunting her with his height. He hovers over her, close enough for their arms to brush and the exhale of his laugh to reach the top of her head. "It's uncouth to take back a gift."
Startled, Elsa takes a step back. Eyes bulging out, her smile is forced. "I hope you rot in hell, Jackson."
"Aw. Have I told you I missed you yet?" He winks. The audacity of that man.
Elsa hisses, and after a quick check to make sure they're on the clear, she jabs him in the ribs and mouths Watch it.
He bats his eyelashes, faking innocence, and she rolls her eyes.
"In all seriousness," he says before she can stomp her way back to her side of the office and justifiably ignore him for the rest of the day. "I'll take good care of Edgar Jr. So don't you worry about a thing and go out there and be the rockstar you were born to be."
She frowns. "I feel like you're making fun of me."
"I'm not. Okay, maybe a little. That doesn't negate my complete faith in you though."
"Really?" Elsa asks, sincerity seeping into her voice because even though she has no right to, it's still nice to have his support.
He leans forward, the scent of his aftershave hitting her nostrils, and the air catches in her throat. A finger grazes her knuckles, the gesture hidden from everyone else but the two of them. Goosebumps flare on her skin. "Lady. If I'm giving up on you, might as well be for you to become the best."
"... Thanks?"
He shrugs. "I expect you to make a move for CEO within the next five years."
"Now you're just talking crazy."
Jack grins, and the sight of his dimples, and the way his eyes sparkle makes her want to save that picture for posterity. To remind herself of what she let go. Emotion makes her throat swell. Melancholy, sure but there's also something else when it comes to that man. Something wilder and unpredictable. Because there's no one else capable of igniting that kind of fire inside her. That competitiveness that makes her lungs burn and her pulse quicken. That deep desire to strive, to succeed. It's exhilarating. It's explosive. It's all-consuming.
His trust in her fuels her resolve. She can do this. And she's gonna show the world what she's got.
"Knock 'em dead, Elsa."
So. I know this doesn't feel like an ending because they didn't even get together but this is it.
I had some ideas for a part 2 but I don't think it's happening. Part 2 was gonna be a horsegirl story. Jack quits his job and moves to Australia to work at North's ranch which has a gap year program that attracts kids from all over the globe. Lots of cameo opportunities. Elsa is forced to use her vacation days and Anna has airline miles. Jack would freak out seeing her again after all those years and try to convince Elsa that he's got a girlfriend (it was gonna be Isabela from Encanto because I just love the Elsa x Isa parallels), but Isa uses her position to mess with both of them with a long and convoluted game of telephone. Beyond that, my plot ideas just kept going in circles. I probably started three different first chapters and got nowhere. And I think part of the reason for me not wanting to write this story is that I couldn't picture them having a happy ending. The story would end with them at the airport and Elsa returning to her job and her "real" life. And that... is a terrible ending.
The more time passes, the less I try to fix my ideas for part 2 so I don't know... I wouldn't say it's impossible but it's also very unlikely to happen?
Thank you guys so much for reading, your support over the past 10 years means the world to me. I'm sorry if I disappointed you T.T Short outtake comes next.