this is shorter than I wanted, but also later than I wanted, so. Shout out to Lady Lostris on Avatar Wiki and Caliax on AO3/Tumblr for helping with the French (and some decisions, though Cali, if you're reading this, it probably doesn't feel like it). Apologies for the long wait. And yes, there will be a third part.

also might wanna reread over the previous chapter. this picks up right where that one left off. :)

Rapunzel finds her sobbing in the bathroom.

Anna is unintelligible and inconsolable and she knows just how incredibly stupid it is, but she can't seem to stem the flow. Her nose and cheeks brighten to a fluorescent pink, and both are drenched in salty tears that soon coat the sleeve of her jacket.

She doesn't look up when the brunette walks in; she doesn't even notice, really. She's sitting in the corner, knees drawn up to her chin and head buried beneath them.

She's completely silent, a shaking mess, and when she feels soft hands around her shoulders, the name "Elsa" dances on her tongue.

It's quickly wiped away as she realises the one comforting her isn't the blonde foreigner, and she buries her head back in her knees.

They sit there for the rest of the recess. When the bell rings, Rapunzel drags Anna to the nurse's office to call her dad, sending the mess of a girl home.

When she gets to class, the brunette can't help but notice that Elsa's eyes are suspiciously red, too.

Anna's dad is big and hulking and an absolutely wonderful person to talk to. The only thing they don't really talk about is the death of Anna's mother, but that's not something they truly want to, either. For a long time it was a noose, suffocating their every interaction, but they grew from it, and grew closer. Anna knows that she can talk to him about anything. He knows that she'll come to him when she's ready.

It's why he doesn't push her when she slides into the front seat of their Yaris, still red-faced and tear-stained.

He just pulls her into a hug and lets her cry out her feelings, because sometimes it's the only thing you can do. Other times, it's just the first step.

He hopes, for her sake, it's the latter.

The next few days are quiet. Anna doesn't talk much, and her father knows when not to pry. She stays up late each night, just thinking.

Why?

She doesn't care so much for the how of it. Maybe she did something? Wracking her mind, she can't think of a reason.

Why, and it's an answer only Elsa can provide.

Anna doesn't really know what to expect. It's not like she's never lost a friend before—of course she has. People change and move and shift and sometimes, she can't do anything to stop it. But, she's never had someone tell her that they... never wanted to be her friend at all.

And this confuses her and she spends several tear-filled days moping, angry, trying to figure it all out.

Because she still remembers Elsa as the lost new girl whom nobody looked twice at but had the greatest smile. And a little part of Anna thinks that she was incredibly lucky to see it; a little part of her tells her that Elsa isdifferent, and not just in the most obvious of ways.

Unfortunately, those small moments of epiphany are drowned out—always drowned out—by the realisation that their friendship… didn't last. That Elsa didn't want it to last.

What had Anna done wrong?

I'm sorry, Elsa had said. She had wanted to be friends. She approached Anna...

... They had been friends... hadn't they?

And suddenly, the fiery red-head isn't so fiery because there is a strange feeling in her chest that sinks to her stomach whenever it damn well pleases and she can never prepare for it. She can't even really concentrate when it strikes, either, because all she can do is stop and wonder.

What changed?

No, but that's not it, either. It's not about the 'what', but rather, as always, the 'why'. Why did it change?

Because Anna doesn't know what she did wrong. All she knows is that she had made a friend one day, and the next... well, the next day she had lost her again, and she has no idea why it all happened because wasn't Elsahappy? She'd laughed and said- she'd said she valued Anna's friendship, and the next moment … the next … she didn't?

Anna wanted to understand, but she didn't.

Anna wished she knew why, but she didn't.

Anna wished it didn't end.

She can't explain how she knows, but she does; there is something inside her that makes her not want to give up on Elsa. She can't give up on Elsa.

They're still partnered for that damn French assignment.

The whole thing is completely and utterly disastrous and Anna just wants to sink into the floor as soon as it's over. Before they've even finished, really. Her frayed emotions are already at their limit because of how much she doesn't understand—doesn't understand what happened, and really, doesn't understand the girl next to her—only worsen when forced to stand up in front of the class and deliver a speech on. Honestly... she's forgotten by now. She is a complete bumbling mess, screwing up her lines and mispronouncing those particles that she had practised. And the worst part is that Elsa is completely flawless. Oaken even claps at the end, and Anna mightpretend it's for both of them, but she knows it's only for Elsa.

"Nice job," Anna murmurs as she makes her way over to her seat.

Elsa doesn't even acknowledge her.

She spends her days with Rapunzel and Kristoff—they were her friends before Elsa came, and obviously, they're her friends after. Rapunzel keeps shooting Elsa dirty looks whenever she sees the blonde, and Anna's too exhausted to tell her to stop. She doesn't care. It wasn't as though Elsa even bothered looking her way anymore.

Elsa sits alone in the corner of the cafeteria. She's always reading a book and she pretty much dissolves into the same silent newcomer she was when she arrived. Perhaps all the other students think she hasn't changed, but Anna knows better—or rather, she thinks she does.

Because Elsa isn't quite as skittish. She'll look up from her book every now and then and take in her surroundings. Even the mere fact of her sitting in the cafeteria is testament to how she's changed.

And Anna so wants to take the credit. She wants to stand up and smile and say, "That girl? Yeah, I was her friend. I helped her open up a little." But that thought hurts because it paves the way to heavier, less pleasant thoughts.

She doesn't think Elsa is the type of person to use others, but every day it takes more and more effort to convince herself.

Anna's standing outside her locker, putting her books away after class, when she first hears the sound of a disturbance. It's nothing major, really, and it's almost drowned out by the sound of every other student talking and moving through the packed hallways. It's probably just because the sound is so strange that she takes any notice of it in the first place.

It comes again, this time as a loud bang followed by a sharp cry, and the hallway falls silent for a moment. Everyone stops to look, including Anna.

She can see Hans moving down the corridor, students making way for his bulky build. Anna knows what happened, has seen it before. Big-shot Hans and his superiority complex, too good to step out of other people's way (but that doesn't mean he can't move out of his way to purposely run into them). She's halfway across the hall to help whoever was unlucky enough to get on Hans' bad side when she pauses.

Elsa is scrambling to her feet, face flushed red. Anna is torn between helping someone, as she always chooses to do, and letting her pride get the better of her. Elsa hurt her. For no reason. Would it be so wrong to just leave her alone to face Hans?

Anna's had weeks to think it over, after all. Weeks of silence, questioning herself. The only answer she could come to was… that it wasn't her fault.

Anna swallows thickly, and she knows, as soon as Elsa catches her eye, that pride will—and has—won.

She turns on her heel and disappears into the crowd, ignoring Elsa's eyes on the back of her head.

Their interactions (what few they had) become ever more strained. Mr Oaken makes them sit together in class, and he hands out the next assignment; a reflective essay, written together but graded separately. Anna needs to 'reflect' on what her strengths and weaknesses were, and then reflect on Elsa's.

It takes all her effort to not, in a fit of urgent anger, write "being friends" in Elsa's weakness. That wouldn't help anyone (and she'd probably fail, to boot).

Mr Oaken doesn't give their grades back until after they've written something down—he also doesn't give them his comments. Anna doesn't care so much about that, anyway. As long as she passed.

And she did pass (barely). Her dad doesn't really mind so much her grades, as long as she puts effort into it (and she writes that down as a strength: "I always try my best"). A 60 is better than a 50, and she knew, as soon as she'd finished speaking, that she hadn't done fantastic. It was probably only because Mr Oaken is such a nice teacher that she did as well as that; he probably tried as hard as he could to give her as many marks as possible.

But she doesn't manage to hide the sheet fast enough, because she sees Elsa glancing over. It's obvious by the look on her face that she's seen Anna's grade, and Anna can't help but feel a little more useless.

And then Elsa very deliberately lays her result on the table, face-up.

Anna wasn't sure it was possible, but her heart sinks even further when she sees Elsa's perfect 100. Of course she'd pass with flying colours. She peeks up at Elsa, who is already looking at her.

She can't describe the look on Elsa's face, so she turns away and tries not to let it show how much it hurts.

Elsa is right. She knows she's right. She was right in pushing Anna away, and she's right in keeping it that way. Now, she doesn't have to pretend. She doesn't have to be the girl that no one really believed she was anyway. She's free to be the weird girl who doesn't speak and fulfil everyone's expectations they have of her.

Anna's better off without someone like her in their life.

She is.

But something isn't working. Because she couldn't stand being hurt but… why does it still sting? She can't- peoplehurt. So being on her own, that should be, well, painless. But… it's not.

Now her heart still aches, and just thinking about Anna makes her want to cry because she did such a good job of fucking up her friendship with the only person who cared enough to try.

Elsa... exists. She doesn't live anymore.

Meals at home are taken in complete silence. When her father mentions Anna's name one night, asking after her, Elsa can't stop shaking and has to excuse herself from the table.

She spends the evening throwing up, pouring bitter regrets and grief and anger into the tears that stream down her face and refuse to leave her alone.

Sleep eludes her for the entire night, and she arrives at school with purple bruises below her eyes and pale skin sickly, grey and pallid.

No one notices. And if they do, they don't care.

Rapunzel invites her to see a movie; they're playing old-school films at the local theatre, and she's won free tickets to see Mean Girls.

Anna agrees, if only because she wants to get out of the house, and out of the funk she's in. She hasn't been to school in a week, and her dad doesn't mind. He hasn't poked or prodded her for information, and she's eternally grateful.

But perhaps a day with Punz is what she needs, so she agrees and dresses up and tries to feel better. She smiles at herself in the mirror and maybe convinces herself it's a little easier this time to force the expression onto her face.

Rapunzel meets her at the theatre. There are a few lines of girls about their age, some a bit younger and a few a bit older. The film is actually pretty good, too. Punz buys the drinks and a bucket of popcorn to share, and everyone chants the good lines together - the whole theatre saying, "You go, Glen Coco," is enough to make Anna actually smile to herself.

They go back to Rapunzel's afterward for a sleepover, and proceed to eat lollies and drink horrible Coke knock-offs until three am until they fall asleep in front of Hackers (because late-night films are terrible but wow Angelina Jolie?)

Anna forgets, for a night at least, just how much she's been hurting lately.

And in the morning when it's time to go home, Anna just hugs Rapunzel goodbye because she's had a great time but she doesn't know how to vocalise it; doesn't know how to make Rapunzel understand just how much it meant, having this. On the surface, it was just two friends having a day out together. But to Anna, it just means that she's not alone.

Elsa might have left her (pushed her away?) but there are still people she can call her friends - that call her their friend.

She goes home in higher spirits than she's had in ages.

The little blue book, full of snowflakes and foreign words, makes a strange reappearance in the hands of Hans.

Elsa's book.

The thing that led them to speak in the first place. The object that gave her a friend.

Anna grimaced at the word. Friend.

She was confused. She was hurt … She was angry. But despite that anger, the book invoked the vivid image of those frightened, red-rimmed, ice blue eyes that had been chiselled in her mind from the time she returned it to Elsa. Elsa had looked so lost without it. So frightened.

Anna has been quite content (well, not quite, but she has to tell herself something to sooth that nagging feeling of guilt) to let the big boy with the sideburns push Elsa around. To her shame, she even has to admit that a part of her revelled in the knowledge that Elsa is being hurt, because she has hurt her, too. But the book? Those eyes? She is hurt. And angry. But damn it, she may not be Elsa's friend, but Elsa was still hers. And she doesn't want Elsa to be hurt. Not like that. Not with the book.

Anna remembers the look of utter relief that Elsa gave her when she returned the book the first time. Whatever it was, it was important. To have it destroyed in front of her... it would destroy Elsa.

So, when Hans suggests ripping the book up in front of Elsa (after photocopying all her dirty little secrets and spreading them around for everyone to see), Anna forgets all about her own pride. She remembers why she broke up with him (the ego and rudeness and cruelty he showed to others notwithstanding). Hans is not a nice person. He says he is and he hides behind simpering smiles and false empathy, but when push came to shove, he was only ever interested in himself.

"What?" he says, still smirking infuriatingly when Anna demands he give it back. "She hurt you, Anna-banana. I'm only returning the favour. We might not be dating, but I still care about you."

Anna almost growls. He never could pronounce her name right. It's Ahhna, dammit! And, she knows that he doesn't truly care about her. He stopped being that kind of boyfriend as soon as he got what he wanted and bragged about it to the entire football team. Of course, she had let it slide then, because it wasn't even worth it. He wasn't worth it.

She'd moved on and moved away, but he followed her, still desperate to hurt her because he's a teenage boy and they're the worst.

Now, she just wants to punch him.

... And suddenly, she doesn't know why she let him get away with torturing Elsa. Because, Elsa had hurt her, true, but there was none of the damn pretend-friendship that Hans has going for him. Because she had been friends with Elsa—true friends—and something had changed, and now she wasn't. But there was no in-between with Elsa. None of this fucking psychological bullshit that Hans has.

Anna is on her feet in an instant.

"Give me the book, Hans," she hisses, face contorted into an ugly snarl. He just laughs.

"Or what, Feisty-Pants-"

He doesn't actually see the punch coming until he's sprawled on the floor, book knocked back several feet and his hand clutching pathetically at his nose. Eyes shining daggers at Anna, the redhead notes with a glee she's not sure what to make of.

"You bitch!" he cries out, spitting red droplets of blood that go nowhere but down the front of his jersey. Anna's face falls as she slowly becomes aware of the crowds that have begun to gather at seeing the downed star. She looks around, desperately seeking that which caused the whole kerfuffle in the first place.

The book has slid across the floor, lying prostrate and open a good five feet away. Anna wastes no more time moving to retrieve it. Oh God, what if Elsa saw it just lying there?

She reaches down for it, not trying to look at the words written in neat cursive—what kind of self-respecting journal fell open? she questioned—but unable to stop her eyes from roving over the text. It was incomprehensible to her (Norwegian was a pretty language when written, she supposed), but she found herself pausing as her eyes align on two things that they probably shouldn't have.

A date at the top, and her name just below it.

Acutely aware of the predicament she'd created for herself and the scrambling sounds of a hurt football star getting back to his feet, makes her slam the book shut and run. She's made it away from the crowd and is sitting below the bleachers, having a rather aggressive internal debate with herself.

She should return the book. It's not hers at all and hey, she's done it before, right? It's really no different.

... Only it is. Now, she has the answers she's been looking for, and that just frustrates her even more because it's obvious the blonde doesn't want to—never wanted to—share.

She's sitting cross-legged, head resting glumly on her hands and forcing her elbows to dig into the tender flesh of her thighs as she thinks.

She doesn't do a lot of thinking very often, but right now, the silence is appreciated. Or it was, because suddenly, her little bubble of serenity is interrupted by the clomping of thick Ugg boots (that will soon be entirelyinappropriate for the weather, but she knows the owner will continue to sport them throughout the rest of the year regardless).

"Hey, Kristoff," she says to the shoes, pausing a moment before chuckling. He sits down, mimicking her own stance, and they both stare out onto the field in silence.

Anna is naturally curious. She can't help it. It's not really a bad thing, curiosity, but as the proverb goes, it could most certainly become something terrible. She knows the book is a little diary, and she knows that she definitely shouldn't be contemplating reading it, let alone be moments from actually doing so. It's got her name in it (a weak argument, but one nonetheless)—she should be allowed to see the sort of horrid things Elsa was writing about her. At least then she'd know what happened to make the blonde girl hate her so.

So, Anna hides away in a computer lab for the rest of the day, aware of the fact that Elsa likes to hang out in the library during breaks and won't come to this godforsaken corner of the school.

The computer lab is a quiet, practically deserted room in the corner of the southwest building (which also houses the... simple math class and special education units). Suffice to say, Anna is confident that no one will look for her here, nor interrupt her (the knowledge giving her enough confidence to sneak onto Facebook at the same time).

The book distracts her though, as she flicks back almost three weeks—the date of their 'blow-out' still fresh in her mind—and then a week back further. Elsa had been writing in French for several days, she notes, and immediately Anna feels guilty about prying into Elsa's diary.

That slight curdling in her gut doesn't stop her though. The pain of guilt is nothing compared to the misery of not knowing what happened and using the impossibly slow server, she begins to translate the passages that have her name in it.

She flicks through the entire book, unwilling to even attempt to decipher the sentences without her name; that's too close to looking through Elsa's secrets for the sake of it. It's difficult, though, as she automatically tries to place the French that she knows, even though Elsa seems to switch languages whenever she wanted.

Far me force de démenager aux États-Unis. C'est drôle- c'était mon rêve il y a trois mois. Il y a trois mois, jeg ikke har Belle ...

"Father is making me leave to America. It's funny- it was my dream three months ago. Three months ago, I didn't have ... beauty?..." Anna murmurs to herself, attempting to decipher the mix of languages.

She finds herself reading too deep into Elsa's early memories, confused by the 'belle' she kept mentioning. As much as she tries to stop herself, she can't help but try to translate it in her head, though it never makes any sense.

She skips forward several months to a few days before their fight. Her name is written all throughout the page, Norwegian making it impossible to read. There's a strange sensation in her gut and Anna doesn't know what to make of it. The next entry isn't until two days after their fight; this page must have all the answers.

The tardy bell rings and still Anna hesitates.

She doesn't care. She knows it's wrong—so wrong, but she can't care. She needs to know what she did.

She doesn't care about Elsa's reasons or attitude. She just wants the girl she considered a friend back.

Anna takes a breath and begins translating the first line to the best of her abilities.

Anna est Belle.

Of course, she pauses, confused by the sudden shift in languages. Elsa thinks she's... beautiful? But, that makes no sense! Least of all because, compared to Elsa, Anna was... well, plain. Boring. She has a nice smile, sure, but a nice smile doesn't make a belle person. Anyway, even if Elsa did think such a positive thing, why would she spout such horrible words at Anna?

Suddenly, the door bursts open, and Anna hits the ctrl-W keys as fast as she can, turning around. It's just another student playing hooky, stepping through the door and ignoring Anna as they make their way to the far corner (probably to sleep or something).

Like someone trying to hide that they've been caught red-handed with their hand in the cookie jar, Anna focuses completely on her screen, noticing with mild surprise (and a cringe that her shortcut still failed) that her Facebook is open and updating. As though the universe is out to get her, feeding her guilt for prying in Elsa's private life to satisfy her own selfish need for understanding, the first name that comes up is Elsa's. She's been tagged in a comment and for the umpteenth time that day, Anna can't help but look. Activity on Elsa's wall is rare. The girl has never done anything on Facebook to her knowledge, save for replying to the messages she was sent.

The redhead clicks on the comment, and for one bright moment, everything makes sense.

It isn't Elsa who did something; rather, someone has posted on Elsa's wall, the mix of privacy settings allowing Anna to view it.

Her brain, inundated with so much information that made no sense, was trying vainly to understand the words by the only other person Elsa had on Facebook.

Merci de nous donner cette chance, Elsa. J'aimerais voir ton visage. Envoye-moi un message quand tu reçois ceci!

Thanks for giving us this chance, Elsa. I'd love to see your face again. Message me when you get this!

Sent two minutes ago by a certain Belle d'Amboise.

Belle.

Damn, she was stupid. It was a name, not an adjective.

Of course, that raises more questions than answers, and Anna has never been one to let her curiosity go unsatisfied. However, she realises that she is actually dreadfully late to class, and logs off, though not after sending a brief PM to Belle, "Hi! I'm a friend of Elsa's and I was wondering if I could talk to you later. I have some questions and I was hoping you could help me with them?"

She shows up to class late, as expected, keeping her gaze on her seat and fervently ignoring the blonde who looks just as lost as when Anna first met her, holding out the blue book all those months ago as though it were an olive branch. Now, more than before does she know how much it means to the girl, and she knows she has to return it.

And, she will. She just needs to understand first.

Belle gets back to her an hour later, while Anna is still in French. The redhead curses herself when the telltale Facebook message ding goes off, but she's luckily undetected by Mr Oaken. It feels weird, asking the other girl about Elsa when in the same room as her, and so Anna gives herself a merit point for ignoring the message for all of ten minutes before her curiosity defeats the weirdness. She would have loved to get her answers then and there, but she realises fairly quickly that the universe is decisively cruel to her: Belle can't actually understand English (if her first line of Excusez-moi, je ne parle pas anglais is anything to go by).

Anna has to wait until she gets home before she can even try to think of a way to voice her request without sounding creepy or stalkerish. The little blue book is still resting in her bag, but now Anna just feels sick, regretting looking at it. She doesn't regret learning the information hidden there, but the method of acquisition still leaves a little to be desired.

Anna pulls up Google Translate again, thanking the Internet Gods that her home Wi-Fi is a lot more effective than the school's network.

"Salut! Je suis une amie d'Elsa," she types, letting her fingers fly over the keyboard in an attempt to stave off the hesitation that appears over the claim that she's a friend of Elsa's.

Belle is actually online, it seems, when she replies all of two minutes later. Anna briefly wonders what time it is in France (does Belle live in France? She was friends with Elsa, so who moved where?) before pushing it from her mind. She doesn't have the time to worry about that. She needs to understand now.

"Bonsoir, Anna," comes the reply. Anna doesn't need Google for that, and it causes a little smile to appear on her face. "Comment je peux vous aider?" How can I help you?

And just like that, Anna has no idea what to say or do. How can she even explain everything? She turned to Belle to understand, but what if she leaves with more questions than answers?

She's saved from her own runaway mind when Belle sends another message, and Anna can practically feel the concern emanating from the words.

"Tout ça va avec Elsa? Elle n'a pas répondu à mes messages ..." Is Elsa okay? She has not responded to my messages...

Anna bites her lip. "Je dis que je suis son amie, mais il y a quelques semaines, elle m'a dit tout à coup d' 'aller faire foutre'. Je espérais que vous pourriez m'aider." I say I'm her friend, but a few weeks ago, she told me out of the blue to get lost. I was hoping you'd be able to help.

Anna ends up going to bed close to midnight; talking to Belle was proving... enlightening, at the least. Anna hoped that the Google Translate Gods would smile down on her and limit the amount of mistakes that she knows must have riddled her messages, making her look like an idiot in the eyes of a native. To Belle's credit though, she never said anything about it. Belle is open and friendly and engaging and pretty much everything that Elsa isn't.

And, she's worried. If the single admission on Elsa's wall wasn't enough, it's in the way Belle speaks of the other girl. It's in the way she stayed up all night—it was nearing 6am for her; Anna checked—to talk to a stranger in order to help her help Elsa. It's the way she asks Anna to make amends however she can because... Elsa needs it.

And Anna can understand (sort of). She doesn't know how Elsa feels, and she tells Belle as much. She feels an affinity for the other girl, even through the language barrier and pixelated screens. They both have a common interest: Elsa.

And Anna knows that she wants to get to know Elsa again; understand why she was shut out in the first place because Anna hates, almost as much as losing Elsa, the not knowing.

She promises to at least approach Elsa the next day, but a sudden thought has her pausing before signing off.

"Parles-tu norvégien?" she asks, slightly hesitant. Do you speak Norwegian? She doesn't really know why she ask. Maybe because French doesn't work, and Elsa refuses to use English near her. Because Anna wants one more tie to tell her that it wasn't a complete farce. Maybe if she learns it, she can show Elsa that she still wants to be friends, no matter what.

She's broken from her thoughts when the message sound dings. Belle's replied with a, "Je ne le parle pas très bien. Elsa essayais de m'enseigner, mais je n'étais pas une bonne étudiante. Pourqoui?"

I'm not very good. Elsa tried teaching me but I was a poor student. Why?

Anna shrugs at the screen. "Sans raison. Pourrais uh … pourrais-tu m'aider l'apprendre?"

No reason. Could uh... could you help me learn it?

She has to wait almost three minutes for a reply, but when it comes, it's totally worth it. "Bien sûre :) "

Sure :)

Anna logs off feeling happier than she can remember feeling for the last few weeks. Now she has a plan. She can still be friends with Elsa. Anything worth having, she tells herself, takes a bit of work.

She's got to learn a language and figure our how to approach Elsa. The first is easy – the second... not so much. She makes a promise to herself to wave at Elsa the next day. That shouldn't be so hard.

It's almost 3am and Anna knows she has to be up in a few hours. That hasn't stopped her from surfing the web since saying goodnight (or good morning, in her case) to Belle.

Research. She's researching—that's more than enough of a reason, she tells herself, and for once she doesn't think she's lying.

She's downloaded almost a dozen torrents of audiobooks, films, and textbooks on Norwegian. She's signed up to at least three different websites claiming to be able to teach her the language. Within three months! one of them claims. Anna can't wait.

Belle's agreed to help —if nothing else, she might be able to help pronunciation? She's probably better than she says she is.

Anna's joined Reddit, and after about an hour of floundering, figured out how to use /r/Norsk. Going through their list of resources, everyone seems to be singing praise of a particular app—free, for mobile or desktop, that actually works.

She downloads it and completes the first task, and thinks that maybe she can actually do this.

Norwegian is actually quite a nice language, Anna decides. She's already realised that it's logical, but it's more than that. It's closer to English than French is, and while there are some strange letters to pronounce (å being one) and weird pronouns (what's the difference between du and deg?), it does, actually, make sense. Plus, it sounds like English, and negating seems to be easy.

She gets through the first couple of levels on her app before begging her father to take her to the local library to see if they have Norwegian kids books available. They don't, but they do have an old cassette tape claiming to be able to teach anyone in three months.

Anna figures, with all the extra study she's going to put into it, she can definitely make that milestone.

She's on her way to the cafeteria when she sees Elsa. Anna's running late because her teacher didn't hear the bell (or just wants to punish them), and she's cursing the fact that she's probably missed the good food.

Those thoughts vanish as she comes to a halt. Elsa's sitting under a tree, wrapped in a jumper despite the warming weather. She doesn't have a book with her today, so she's pretty much forced to watch her classmates move about with each other.

She hasn't noticed Anna, giving the redhead a chance to just observe. Elsa's leaning forward a little, knees tucked up against her chest. She looks so small.

And… lonely. Anna's on her way to meet her friends, but there's no one waiting for Elsa. No one Elsa is waitingfor.

Anna doesn't approach her. She doesn't know what to say.

Belle understands. She does. She sends a sad-face and lets it sit on Anna's screen for a moment before actually typing a message. "C'est d'accord Anna," she says. "Il est difficile quand vous avez été blessé par quelqu'un." It's okay, Anna. It's hard when you've been hurt by someone...

There's knowledge, an almost-wistfulness to her words, and Anna wonders if maybe Belle's speaking of experience.

Anna thinks she knows what Belle is saying, but she wants the other girl to say it. "Qu'est-ce que c'est?" she asks. What do you mean?

She doesn't get a response straight away. Facebook marks the message as 'read', but no reply is forthcoming. It's almost ten minutes later that the three little dots begin to wiggle in front of Anna.

"Désolée, je dois partir," Belle says, and Anna can't help the little flicker of disappointment in her heart. "Bon chance!" I'm sorry, I have to go. Good luck!

With that, Belle signs off, leaving Anna to theorise.

She decides to write a speech. That way, she knows what she's going to say, and if she can't say it, she can just give it to Elsa and hope it explains everything.

Dear Elsa, it begins, before Anna crosses it out.

Elsa

I don't know what I did wrong, and it's really all I want to know. I don't care that you don't want to be my friend- well, no. I do care. I care a lot. You are one of the best friends I've ever made, and then something happened and how we're not. That really hurts. I', really hurt because I don't know what I did wrong and you refuse to tell me. Did I do something wrong? Or did you? Is it in my head – am I imagining your lonely looks, or am I just projecting what I feel onto you? Lonely, abandoned...

We'd shared chocolate and you agreed to help with French and then nothing. Then you come up to me and tell me to fuck off and I'm not supposed to be upset about that? I was left crying in a bathroom because of you! And it wasn't even that we had told each other our deepest darkest secrets or anything, because we hadn't. But you were the one person I felt genuinely close to. Like a closer friendship than I'd ever had with anyone. Like I could lean on you for support because- because you'd leaned on me before.

So I've been talking to Belle. And if you don't already, you're probably going to hate me for this, but I think I can deal with it now because now I know. I don't know why you never told me about her—she's lovely. And she's worried about you. She feels like she did something wrong. I don't know, maybe she did. But she, like me, just want you to talk again.

I guess, what I'm saying is... it's okay. I was hurt and angry and upset but I think I understand now. And so I'm more disappointed—disappointed that you couldn't just talk to me. I thought we were friends, Elsa. But you decided that your silence was more important...

Anna reads it over twice before growling, crumpling it up and tossing it in the trash. She didn't realise just how much anger she still harboured.

But... she's not actually angry with Elsa. She can sit down and think objectively and know that she forgives her. Maybe she doesn't like how Elsa went about it, but that can't be changed now. If Elsa is willing to try again, perhaps with an explanation... Anna would be more than happy to try with her.

Approaching Elsa turns out to be easier than she thought. The sophomores have all been handed out their summer schedules as the weather warms up; in a month, they're going to start swimming lessons, funded by the state. By sheer luck (or divine intervention), Elsa has been placed in her class. Anna is aware of this for two reasons; the first is that she is keeping an eye on Elsa, waiting for a chance to approach her, perhaps slip the book back into her locker (Anna's very good friends with the janitor, Mr Quasimodo). The second is because the girl approaches Ariel, the TA for the swim classes, who also happens to be running Anna's group and standing next to the door.

The bell has rung, and Anna finds herself pushed out of the room, caught up in the throng of students desperate to get home.

She waits by the lockers, leaning back casually with her arms crossed. She's well-aware that her heart is thumping behind her ribcage because she's about to approach the girl who rejected everything about her, but at least the adrenaline gives her the courage to uphold her promise to Belle.

She doesn't approach Elsa as soon as the girl steps from the room. She just hangs back, waiting for the other students to filter away. Her mouth is suddenly dry when Elsa looks her way, and Anna quickly averts her eyes, pretending that she's waiting for Rapunzel (who, in reality, is hanging out in the art building, probably with Kristoff).

The hallways are almost clear enough for Anna to begin her approach when Hans swaggers around the corner, flanked on either side by Gaston, a foreign-exchange student who has become well-known around the school for always talking about hunting animals (and talking about himself) and the Stabbington twins (rumour has it that they had almost gone to juvie but somehow had managed to get out of it. No one knows how). All four are sweating, and from their uniforms and the gallon-bottles of water in their hands, they've just finished Phys-Ed (which, for the football stars, usually meant simply that they got to run around on the pitch for an hour without actually achieving anything).

He lets out a laugh and Anna watches Elsa's face fall. The girl stands in the middle of the hallway, and the few stragglers who come close to her move in a wide berth, as though just realising how close they really are. She tries to move out of the way, but the four boys flank out, trapping her. She can't run.

"Ahh, here's the freak," Hans says, grinning. "Ice Queen."

Elsa's face remains impassive as the hulking football players approach her. They don't say anything else—they didn't have to. Anna watched as Elsa tenses, her gaze unfocused and breathing shallow. She looks... she looks how she had when she had first stepped into Anna's room. Lost. Confused.

Scared.

It feels as though there isn't any warning, but thinking back on it retrospectively, Anna would concede that there was plenty. Gaston hands Hans his water bottle, still mostly full. Hans' smirk never falters as Elsa's eyes widen, and she takes a step back until, hands coming to wrap protectively around her stomach. She's eyeing Hans, and the water bottle he's unscrewing in front of her. His goons spread out a little more, and Anna realises that Elsa would only run right into them f she tried to move now. The crowd has become a little bigger, but it is still limited to a group of about four freshmen and about seven or eight solitary students.

His grin widening, Hans dumps the water over Elsa's head, absolutely drenching the girl. Once empty, he proceeds to do the same with his own water bottle, and the bottles of the twins. After he is done, Elsa resembles nothing more than a drowned rat, her expression still perfectly blank.

"Maybe this will teach you to stop being such a freak," he hisses, loud enough for everyone to hear.

With that statement, he stalks off, the other students scattering with him. No one wants to be around Elsa, Anna realises with a small jolt.

The blonde mustn't have realised that she wasn't alone, because as soon as the hallways are clear of all the other students, she sinks to the ground, shoulders shaking with barely-concealed sobs. Anna doesn't want to approach her in a moment of weakness, but she knows it is also the best time because Elsa is in no condition to send her away.

Taking a breath, she walks over to the blonde, stopping just in front of the girl. Elsa doesn't notice her for a moment; when she does, she rushes to wipe her eyes and hold her sniffles. Anna only gives her a soft smile and holds out a hand. She almost doesn't expect Elsa to take it, but when she does, her smile becomes a tad lighter. Even when Elsa flinches a little at the contact, it's far better than Anna could have hoped for. She pulls Elsa to her feet, but suddenly finds herself unable to say anything. Her carefully unplanned apologies and questions vacate her mind, and all she can do is look at Elsa, who has begun trembling from cold. She realises their hands are still joined, and quickly breaks the contact, taking a step back. Elsa's expression falls a fraction, and Anna refuses to let herself think about what it could mean.

Anna isn't sure if she breaks the promise or not when she gives Elsa a small nod and hesitant smile instead of talking, but she doesn't care because she can see something in Elsa's eyes that she didn't think she'd ever see again.

Thanks.

It becomes apparent that the bullying occurs far more often than Anna had thought.

She knows Elsa has started to keep spare clothes with her because of the frequency 'accidents' happen to her other clothes.

She also knows that the blonde hasn't told anyone, but she can't figure out why.

As much as she hates it, Anna's pride has always stopped her from intervening. She's not- okay; maybe she's just as bad. She doesn't like seeing this happen to Elsa. But she can't bring herself to stop it because it gives her a chance to approach Elsa. Gives her the opportunity to wait around to pick up the girl and send her on her way. If she stopped it, that would be it. What excuse would she have to talk to the quiet blonde who's only become quieter?

It works for a while, but then Belle asks her how her friend is doing and Anna can't lie. It's only when the shame at doing nothing bubbles in her stomach that she knows what she's got to do.

Il existe deux types de mal; les gens qui font le mal, et les gens qui voient le mal et ne font rien.

There are two types of evil; people who do evil, and people who see evil and do nothing about it.

Anna logs off early that night, a plan forming in her mind.

It's almost hell, but she's able to get up early enough to make it to school on time. And not just that, but before Elsa.

Seeking out Mr Quasimodo in his little storage shed at the back of the school—where all the old generators are kept—she gets him to open Elsa's locker, and places the blue book almost reverentially in the centre, where Elsa is sure to notice it.

Then, all she has to do is hide until the blonde shows up.

Anna makes herself comfortable below her locker, across the hallway from Elsa's. She busies herself with the app she downloaded on her phone. She feels a lot more confident already, and she's only up to determiners—'a' and 'the'. But Norwegian is logical where French isn't. Anna's sure that if her school offered the Scandinavian language, she'd do much better. The actual sentence structure, it seems, is rather simple.

She's completely engrossed and doesn't even realise when Elsa arrives, her usual braid slung over her shoulder. It's only because there's a soft gasp and she feels the blonde's eyes on her that she looks up, actually.

Their gazes align for a moment that turns into two. Elsa is hugging the book to her chest and Anna knows she knows that the redhead is the one who returned it, but she doesn't give anything away. She just watches Elsa with a blank expression.

The moment is wrecked when suddenly Hans walks past, pushing Elsa into her locker. The small door is open, and Anna hears the girl gasp in surprise and pain as the back of her head connects with the metal corner.

Elsa doesn't look back at Anna, and the redhead knows why.

Elsa doesn't want to ask for help. She doesn't want to need the girl she pushed away.

But it's okay because Anna doesn't see it like that. She stuffs her books into her bag and jumps up because she'snot a bad person. She doesn't want to watch Elsa get pushed around anymore because it's not fair and it's not right. Because she can do something about it. Because Elsa isn't a bad person, and doesn't deserve this torment.

Because she doesn't need an excuse to approach her anymore, and because she doesn't want one.

Hans has a can of Coke in his hand and Anna knows he's going to pull the same trick as he did with the water. This time, it's about more than just Elsa's clothes. Her journal is still clutched in her hands, and if the girl only has the book to vent to, she deserves to have it unmarked.

Stepping between Hans and the blonde girl, Anna glares up at her ex-boyfriend.

"Stop it, Hans," she says, surprising the girl at her back and the boy at her front. Hans takes a second to get over his surprise, but when he does, he simply laughs at her.

"Or what, Red?" he asks, and she bristles at the nickname. It wasn't funny in middle school and it isn't funny now.

"Or I'll tell everyone how big your dick really is," she retaliates. "Or how pathetic you are; you can't even getyourself off. I'm sure Vanessa would love to hear how bad you really are in bed."

Hans' face morphs into an ugly scowl and he leans in close to Anna. "You don't have the guts," he said, making the redhead laugh.

"And you don't have the balls," she retorted. "Literally. Leave Elsa alone."

Leaning back, it is obvious that he doesn't want to back off. Not at all. But, her intervention has called the attention of the teachers, and he knows at least three different ones are watching him—plus the throngs of students desperate to find their lockers before class (and those that just enjoy rubbernecking).

"Whatever," he says. "You're not even worth it." Without another word, he backs off and turns around. The hall slowly begin to move again as students disperse and the teachers leave to prepare for class. Anna knows that Elsa is still behind her—she can feel the girl quivering—but she's a little hesitant to actually turn around. She does so, of course, face still blank. Anna's not really sure if she still remembers how to smile at Elsa, and the thought saddens her a little.

"Thank you," Elsa breathes softly, almost silently, when they come face to face again. She's clutching the book like a lifeline, her knuckles white, and somehow, miraculously, Anna smiles. It's only little, but it's still there, and she can see the tension lessen as Elsa drinks in the expression.

Her eyes roved over Anna's face, and the girl almost shrinks under the scrutiny. She's not sure what Elsa is looking for, nor if she finds it, because they're interrupted by the bell.

They make their way to French together, silent as ever but definitely not as uncomfortable.

"Elle semble aller bien." The words are a lot harder to type than Anna had first thought they would be. Elsa seemsokay, sure, but whether she's actually okay or not is another matter entirely. Belle just seems happy that they've spoken, and it is encouraging, Anna knows.

From what she's gleaned, Elsa simply stopped talking to Belle, too. Who does she have left in her circle of friends?

They don't always talk about Elsa, though. Anna discovers that Belle still lives in Norway with her boyfriend, and she works in a library. In return, Anna shares that her favourite film is actually Titanic and she used to be terrified of swimming because of it (which only prompted her parents to convince her to get proper swimming lessons to make her feel safe in the pool with her abilities) and she used to make legions of snowmen during the snowy season.

When Anna finally works up the courage to ask Belle how she met Elsa—how they became friends—the answer is so simple and explains so much.

"Parce qu'elle était seule." Because she was lonely.

And Anna understands because it's why she approached Elsa, too.

Anna notices something strange happening at school. It's sort of subtle at first, and she doesn't really notice (and if she does, she pushes it to the back of her head).

However, after a week, she manages to place it.

Elsa's reaching out.

It is, as she thought, entirely subtle at first. Eye contact. A nod. Not running away. Anna dropped her pen in the hallway one day, the bright green colour rolling away for its life, and Elsa made sure she was the one to pick it up and return it to Anna before scurrying away.

The redhead, for her part, has no idea what to make of it.

She has no idea what to make of it because she has no idea why. Again, Elsa's left her clueless, and she remains an enigma wrapped up in mystery, served with a side of confusing signals and a glass of permanent headache.

Still, Anna can't think of it as being anything but good that she doesn't know because it's so different to when she first met the girl.

She's made an impact.

The reaching out is sort of but not really reciprocated.

Anna has no idea what to do when she drops her pen again and, when reaching down to pick it up, comes face-to-face with Elsa, who had all but rushed forward to pick it up.

There's an uneasy feeling in her stomach when their eyes connect and Anna can't place the emotion swirling in Elsa's.

She doesn't have long to ponder it, though, because the girl hands her the pen and all but bolts from the room.

Anna sort of wants to approach her, but she wants Elsa to have the courage to initiate it. She's always starting things. It was she who approached the blonde first. It was Anna who spoke first and extended her hand for friendship. Now it's Elsa's turn.

Anna didn't have to wait as long as she thought she would. They're three weeks away from the first swimming lesson and she stumbles into a room already occupied (not that she knew that).

Elsa is arguing softly with Ariel, and though Anna can't really hear them, she can tell that Elsa is agitated. Ariel gives a small shake of her head and places a hand on Elsa's shoulder. Anna can see that the gesture is supposed to be comforting, but Elsa tenses up anyway, stiffening until the offending limb is removed.

And, of course, Anna doesn't have time to back out of the room before Elsa catches her eye and pales.

Anna tries, then, to run, despite it being too late. She's actually halfway out the door before Elsa calls her name. It's soft and hesitant but it still cuts through the thick, silent air. Anna knows it's what she's been waiting for, but she still has the reasonable and perfectly excusable urge to keep moving and ignore Elsa.

She makes the mistake of glancing back, and she knows she can't leave because she has been waiting for it. And, Elsa looks incredibly piteous in that moment. Ariel gives a look between the two of them and excuses herself as quietly as possible. Neither Elsa nor Anna notice.

Elsa's curled in on herself, bottom lip tucked into her teeth as her head lowers. It's in that moment that Anna realises just how animalistic a frightened human could be. Elsa is submitting. She's... she's being Elsa.

And Anna knows she's always going to forgive Elsa. She's always going to accept the girl's faults if Elsa was willing to admit to them; if Elsa was willing to be open about them.

So, she stays, waiting for the blonde to make the first move, to say the first word. She's distinctly aware of the rumble of shoes in the hallway and students escape the confines of school and into freedom.

Elsa hasn't moved, and so Anna takes a step back into the room, shutting the door behind her.

They won't be interrupted now.

She's waiting for Elsa to make the first move. Frankly, though, Elsa just looks terrified. Her face is pale and drawn, her eyes wide. Anna knows what she wants. She wants an explanation, or an apology. She wants to know why Elsa did it, and she needs to know that her efforts aren't in vain. That Elsa is someone worth fighting for.

Elsa dashes these hopes by refusing to actually speak. She looks like she wants to speak, but can't actually make the noises. Anna recognises the look, but without context, she can't place it. Elsa's given it too her before, she knows.

And then Anna places it. The day with the journal and the Coke can. Elsa sent her a look: help mixed in with I don't deserve to ask.

But without Elsa actually uttering anything, there's little Anna can do. She turns around, her hand landing on the door handle when she hears a faint, "Wait, Anna..."

She's not going to lie to herself; hearing her name from Elsa's lips feels so good, like a cool towel on a sunburn, or fresh linen on the bed. It's comfortable and nice, and something she didn't realise she craved until it happened.

Anna turns around once more. Elsa's taken a couple of steps closer, though her gaze is trained on the floor.

"I... need help," she says, most definitely talking at the floor. Anna doesn't even mentally applaud herself for getting it right; for her part, she doesn't know how to react, or what she should do about it. So she stays silent, hoping that Elsa will clarify.

"I know I don't deserve it," she says, "But I don't have anyone else to ask. I can't-"

She chokes on her words for a second, and though Anna smiles encouragingly, Elsa doesn't look up. "We don't learn to swim in Norway," she says. "And I've asked Ariel but she says I can't get out of it. I don't- you have no reason to help me, but... I don't know what else to do. I am... sorry, Anna," she adds, almost like an afterthought but it sounds more like she's only just given herself the courage to utter it. "... Please forgive me..."

She trails off and doesn't say anything more, leaving Anna to contemplate her words. And Anna still wants to know why, but she doesn't know if Elsa can answer that. She doesn't want whatever lie the blonde girl might think up.

Anna nods her head. "I'll think about it," she says, knowing she can't just refuse. She can't.

But Elsa gives her a small smile and Anna realises that Elsa didn't even expect that much. So, when she's halfway out the classroom door, she makes sure to turn around. Elsa's still standing in the middle of the room when Anna speaks.

"I…forgive you, Elsa," she says. "I was angry but... I've always thought of you as my friend."

She leaves after that. There's no reason for her to stay.

"What should I do, Dad?"

They're eating tacos in front of the TV when Anna asks the question. Hunky Arnie Schwarzenegger is covered in mud as he hides from the Predator, but they've both seen it a thousand times before. They don't even have to pause it for the conversation because they know exactly what's going to happen.

It's taken a while, but Anna's finally talking to her dad. She always knew she would, but up until now, it's been too hard, the pain still too raw and fresh. With Elsa's admittance earlier that day, Anna felt as though she cold get through the conversation without crying. She was correct.

Her dad isn't particularly helpful, though, aside from lending a sympathetic ear. "I think you should do what makes you happy," he tries, before back-pedalling at the look on Anna's face. "What feels right?" he attempts again, and Anna gives a shrug. Close enough.

She takes another bit of her dinner and, with her mouth full, says something along the lines of, "Wa' ih 'at?"

At the question, her dad puts his food down and fixes her with a look. "It's whatever the right thing to do is," he says. "I don't know the ins and outs of your friendship with Elsa, but the way she looked at you sometimes..."

Anna swallows, with more difficulty than she'd admit. "Like what?" she ventures. Her dad sighs, before he sends her a smile. He gives her a look, too, a you really need to ask?

"As if you were the only person worth noticing."

Elsa doesn't approach Anna again. She must be waiting for Anna to make the first move, to come to a decision, because she keeps shooting her looks that Anna sees from the corner of her eye.

Anna approaches her after school. She's waiting by her locker, no sign of Hans. He doesn't hang around, or even come near Anna anymore. She sees him on the field, playing footy with his jock mates, but she ignores him. He probably doesn't see her.

But, he's also leaving Elsa alone. A brief glimpse into her locker shows that she's still got spare clothes there, and Anna wonders if she'll ever not keep them prepared. She wonders, if she'd stood up for Elsa after that first shove, if the blonde would have had to go to such lengths (or if she'd be tormented to such a degree).

It's that bubble of guilt that spurs her onward. Within a few strides, she's behind Elsa, who is putting the last of her books into her locker. Anna bites her lip and debates clearing her throat or just coughing in general. Perhaps tapping Elsa on the shoulder?

But Elsa seems to sense her presence, because she stiffens and turns around slowly. Maybe she expected Hans, because she relaxes when she sees Anna, and a smile flickers across her features before she manages to school her expression.

There's silence for a few, key seconds as Anna regards the girl in front of her.

And she realises just how much she's missed her.

"... What sort of help did you need?"

Elsa's smile bursts through her lips, as though she never dared dream Anna would actually agree.

Maybe that makes it worth it, because after everything... Elsa still smiles at her.

And it was that smile that drew Anna to her in the first place.