longish chapter that isn't even about anna. i really like this chapter fyi

Kristoff is… oddly subdued when you arrive at his place that Friday. He doesn't seem down at all. Just quiet. He lets you talk, which of course means that you will, because a lot has happened. That doesn't mean you don't notice how he's not talking.

But he doesn't seem to want to fill the silence, so you take over that duty. You tell him about your promotion, about your return to work and how Olaf did up your office.

"There's this guy, too," you say. "His name is Hans and he works at the reception. We had lunch on Tuesday…"

You trail off, not from lack of anything to say, but because you're actually…a little embarrassed. Or, not embarrassed. Worried, perhaps, at Kristoff's reaction. You've never really shared this kind of stuff before.

Mostly because you've never been able to before.

He's stirring the stroganoff, so he's not really looking at you when he asks, "do you like him?" His voice is kind of flat, and it's hard to gauge what he's thinking.

So, you shrug, biting your lip. "He's…really nice. And handsome. And, Kris, he approached me. Little ol' me. It's nice talking to someone who isn't you, y'know?"

At that, Kristoff whips around, expression aghast. "Anna! Oh, I'm hurt. I thought you loved me!"

You stick your tongue out at him, grinning. "Yeah, but I can't complain about you to you, can I?"

Kristoff turns back to the dinner, shaking his head. "What about your boss? Isn't she good to talk to?"

This time, when you shrug, it's sort of weak. Half-hearted, maybe. "We don't have personal conversations," you say softly, and then leave it at that. You don't want to talk about Elsa.

The only thing that fills the kitchen after that is the smell of dinner. You frown at the back of Kristoff's head and resolve to get him to talk to you. You set the table and open the bottle of red you brought. Something has to be wrong when Kristoff doesn't joke whether or not you're old enough to be drinking.

"So what's up in your life?" you ask as dinner is served. Sitting at his seat, Kristoff raises his glass; you tap yours to his, as is customary, but don't bother with a sip yet. He doesn't take long to answer, but you aren't satisfied.

"Oh, y'know, the usual. Work."

You nod, looking at him blankly. "Mhmm, mhmm," you say. He gives you a look, and you just stare right back. He breaks first, twirling fettuccine around his fork.

There's silence for several seconds, and Kristoff probably only breaks it when he realises that you won't. "So how's that, uh, new bakery on second street?" he asks. You just raise an eyebrow, and he sighs. His fork clatters lightly against his plate, and he looks away.

"Come on, Kris," you say softly. "What's up?"

He actually looks a little sick, and he doesn't answer. It can't be from the food, because you take a bite and it's actually really good. If your mouth is full of food, you can't say anything stupid, too.

But then he keeps not-answering, and even you can take a hint. He doesn't wanna talk about it right now, and that's cool. He knows you're here for him when he's ready.

So, you change the subject. "So, did you see that new space film?"

You settle in to watch Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade on Kristoff's couch. It's much more comfortable than yours, and halfway through the movie, you find yourself dozing off to sleep against his chest. You have a little chuckle when Indy meets the hot chick of the film, mostly because she shares her name with your boss. Doctor Elsa Schneider.

The only thing that stops you from actually falling asleep is how tense Kris is. He doesn't seem to be paying attention to the movie at all, and you can feel the stress in each breath he takes.

"You uh, you remember Esmeralda, right?" he asks softly, out of the blue just as Indy's room is ransacked. He purposely keeps his eyes on the TV, which is what makes you turn your head and think hard.

Of course you remember Esme. Kristoff had only been dating her for the last three-or-so years. You'd only met her a few times, but she seemed pleasant enough. She loved dancing, and was really outspoken, and always good to talk to. The only reason you hadn't seen her was because she spent quite a bit of time in France – something with school, and her church. You aren't really sure.

"Is she coming home?" you ask. Kristoff gives a dry laugh, but doesn't look at you.

"Not…not exactly. She uh… we decided to take a break."

"Oh."

You're not sure what he's angling for; Kristoff's never been the kind of guy to fish for sympathy (even if it's warranted). You pluck the remote and pause the movie, because this isn't really the sort of conversation you have with distractions.

"Yeah, it uh, it wasn't working out…"

You nod, moving your arm to wrap around his bulking shoulders. "I'm sorry, Kris," you say softly. "I know how much she meant to you. How…how are you feeling?"

"Lousy," he says immediately, sucking in a breath. "But not… not because of this."

You sit up a little straighter and look at him. It's pretty obvious he's hedging, unwilling to talk but wanting to. Grasping his hand, you squeeze it and make sure he's looking at you. "You can tell me anything, Kristoff," you repeat. You see him swallow several times before he opens his mouth.

"I found someone else," he says quietly, using only a single breath to push the words out. You give a sad sort of frown.

"…What's she like?" The question sounds really stupid, but you feel like he needs to know you don't judge him. Love happens. It's not as if you've never liked more than one person at once.

He doesn't answer at first, and when he does, it's so soft you don't catch it. When you ask him to repeat himself, he swallows again and squeezes his eyes shut.

"…He…"

The breath seems to leave your body for a single moment. Kristoff's eyes are still shut, and he's facing his lap, ignoring your searching gaze. He's biting the inside of his cheek, and the hand that isn't in yours is clenched against his thigh, knuckles white.

You squeeze his hand, and say, "hey," if only to get him to look at you. When he opens his eyes, they're red and a little watery. You rest your head on his shoulder and use both hands to play with his.

"What's he like?"

Kristoff lets out a watery chuckle that sounds partly forced, but partly relieved. His other hand relaxes, and he lets out a deep breath that seems to release all the stress and fear he'd been holding in.

"He's amazing…"