Author's Notes: The title is taken from The Scientist by Coldplay. This fic has gone through more teething problems than a cranky infant; originally written from Elsa's POV in the first person in a more introspective style, it has been retooled and revised countless times.



I don't own anything. All mistakes and typos are my own.

For E, who made the journey.

Elsa can tell Rapunzel's angry. Again. She averts her eyes, takes another sip of coffee. It takes a minute before she notices the cup's empty and cold, and yet another before she gathers the courage to meet Rapunzel's accusing stare.

"What I don't get," begins Rapunzel, "is how you can do this to yourself."

"Do what?"

Rapunzel scowls. "Continue being friends with Anna," she says for Elsa's benefit; she knows very well that Elsa's being deliberately stupid. She's a patient woman. "Nursing her through her parade of lovers current and past. Not being over her."

"We were friends long before we got together," Elsa says with a shrug. "Breaking up doesn't mean we suddenly aren't friends anymore, Rapunzel."

"Yes, but – " She throws up her hands in frustration. "You spend nearly all your time with her – well, whenever she's not with her flavour of the month, of course. This can't be healthy for you."

Elsa smiles faintly. "I manage."

Rapunzel goes red. She opens her mouth, pauses, and snaps it shut. Gathering up her books, she storms away without a backward glance.

The blonde sits calmly, watching her go. Rapunzel will come back. She always does. For all that she tries to tell Elsa off, to make her see reason, she's unwaveringly loyal, and she'll be back because she knows Elsa needs her.

It sounds so familiar.

First days are the worst, especially if you are seven years old and small for your age, and you aren't particularly looking forward to growing up.

Elsa has long blonde hair in a neat braid, a dark blue alice band holding her fringe in place (it matches her eyes, her maid helped pick it out), and a hesitant expression. She spends the morning sitting at her desk saying absolutely nothing except her name when asked to introduce herself.

She finds a corner of the playground to hide in and watches the other children play. It's a small school, and so there are children of varied ages, from those due to enter the middle school down the road next year, to the nursery children whose excited squeals fill the air.

The brightest of the group – a girl with stubby auburn pigtails – breaks away from the rest and approaches her. Elsa stiffens.

"Hello," she says, "wanna play with us?"

Elsa studies her. She wears a green print dress with a matching hairband, eyes darting to the other children and back as she waits patiently for an answer.

"I'm too old to play with you," says Elsa. It's the first thing that comes to mind.

"How old are you?"

"Seven."

"Oh." The little girl screws her face up in concentration. "We don't have to play."

"We don't?"

"No," she chirps, and flops down on the grass, her dress poofing around her; her relaxed smile is completely in contrast to Elsa's perfect posture which is held together by tension.

Just when the older girl thinks she can last until the bell rings and she can go back to her silence, the girl says: "I'm Anna."

"Hello," replies Elsa nervously. "I'm Elsa."

The girl's face splits into a wide grin and she sticks out a hand. Elsa takes it after a pause. Anna's smile only widens.

"Elsa? Are you in?"

The blonde blinks, pushes the hair from her face. It takes her a moment to come back to her surroundings. "Yes," she calls. "Door's unlocked."

Anna walks in, an unfamiliar girl in tow. Elsa hesitates on her way to hug her friend. "Oh, I didn't realise you brought a friend."

Anna grins sheepishly. "Sorry, I should've called beforehand before we dropped in like this, unannounced…"

"It's no trouble at all." Elsa extends a hand to the other girl. "I'm Elsa, Anna's friend."

"Ariel," she says, returning the handshake. She has a nice voice, musical, like she's going to burst into song at any moment. "Pleased to meet you, Elsa."

"Ariel's my groupmate from my art history class," says Anna, looping her arm around Ariel's in a casual manner that suggests she's more than that. The fond sideways glance that Ariel gives her confirms it. All this goes through Elsa's mind in a flash, but she just smiles at them both. "Sorry, but I've got a lot of work to do," says Elsa apologetically, glancing at her laptop. She feels as though she's intruding on a private moment – somehow – so she sits back down.

Anna pulls a face and untangles herself from Ariel. "That sucks. When's your deadline?" she asks, leaning over. Her breath is warm on the back of the blonde's neck, her hands a familiar weight on her shoulders. Elsa fights the urge to simply lean back into Anna's touch with a casualness honed through practice.

"Not that much. I just like to get started early. It's a lot easier even if I don't get anything really concrete down." Elsa's vaguely aware she's babbling, but Anna doesn't seem to mind.

"Like you always do." Elsa knows Anna's smiling in that goofy way that will always make her stomach do flip-flops; thus, her eyes stay fixed on her computer screen and the rigid smile doesn't change.

Ariel says something then and Anna responds, breaking the tension. They talk in low voices, then Anna clears her throat: "Elsa? We're off."

"Okay? That was fast."

"Yeah, uh, we actually came to pick up the book you said you'd lend me." Anna waves said book as though she needed a reason to drop by apart from seeing Elsa. "See you in class later?"

"See you."

When the door clicks shut, it occurs to the blonde that she's typed three pages of complete gibberish. She deletes everything, saves her work, and calls it a day.

Elsa's glad that Anna stays on for elementary school, even as Elsa is just leaving it. Her middle school is just a few blocks down the road but to Anna, that's an eternity.

"You're allowed to spend recess here, aren't you?"

Elsa wishes so badly she can. "I can't, Anna. Sorry."

Anna screws up her face, deep in thought. "After school?"

"My chauffeur waits for me."

"Oh." She's completely crestfallen, scuffing dusty circles with her shoe. "... What's a chauffeur?"



"He drives me to school and picks me up after."

"So you don't have time to play after school?" Anna sounds horrified.

"Nope." Well, it was too good to last. "You'll make new friends, Anna," promises Elsa, "and you'll have plenty of fun with them."

Anna looks at her as though she's being incredibly stupid. "But it's not the same."

"So how long have you and Ariel been dating?"

"Mmm? Oh." Anna puts down the forkful of pasta she was about to eat. "A week or so? She confessed to me after class, and the feeling was kinda mutual, so yeah. It happened." An awkward laugh. She jams the pasta into her mouth and chews. Sauce runs down the side of her mouth.

Automatically, Elsa's hand shoots out and dabs the sauce away. "Fanks," mumbles Anna.

"Chew and swallow first."

She does. "I don't know what I'd do without you," adds Anna with a grin.

"Be utterly lost, I'm sure."

She pokes at her food. "Certainly, spaghetti would be beyond my feeble capabilities."

"It sounds like I can turn my back for an instant and find you hog-tied and ready for ransom."

Anna huffs feeble protests that are mostly muffled by her mouthful of spaghetti.

Elsa heads home from school alone, as usual. The chauffeur is off today, and her parents are busy, so she takes the bus home. She gets a seat alone at the back and rides back, elbow on the windowsill, head propped on her hand.

"Elsa?"

She looks up to see a vaguely-familiar face. Heart-shaped, with auburn hair in twin plaits. Sea-green eyes that shift hue with the light.

A name floats to mind. "… Anna?"

That answering grin, bright like the sun after rain, is familiar. "Yep. You remembered." She plops down on the seat beside Elsa. "What a surprise, seeing you after all this time. You look beautifuller. As in, way more than you used to be. You're in high school now, aren't you? Where do you stay?"

Under the relentless barrage, Elsa only catches the last question. "End of Pine Drive."

"Oh? Not too far from my house. Why haven't I seen you on the bus before?"

"Normally my chauffeur fetches me from school," says Elsa, and Anna whistles appreciatively.

"Yeah, I remember that now. Rich kid."

"I guess," answers Elsa, already thinking of how she'll explain to her parents why she doesn't want Benson to ferry her to school and back anymore.

The knock on Elsa's door is forlorn, subdued – and almost inaudible. It's worrying, because she knows exactly who it is – nobody else would come calling at this time of night – but forlorn and subdued are two things not normally associated with Anna, and it spurs the blonde to answer it quickly.

"Hey," says Anna with a quick smile that doesn't fool Elsa for a second. "Can I come in?"

"What happened, Anna?"

"Nothing happened – damn, you can totally tell, can't you?" Without waiting for a reply, she lets herself in and flops on the bed bonelessly. An arm is casually draped over her face. Elsa sinks down beside her hesitantly; a hand hovers over Anna's shoulder. It takes a minute before Elsa pats Anna in what the blonde hopes is a soothing manner.

Anna lets her arm slide from her eyes. "I caught Ariel making out with that jock from the sailing team. Ethan or whatever."

Elsa winces. She gathered it was something bad about whoever Anna was dating, but cheating… it's a hard blow, especially given how new the relationship is. Her heart goes out to the redhead lying prone on the bed. Though she is a little surprised by Ariel; she didn't look like the type, altogether too wholesome and innocent. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. I kinda deserved it."

"Deserved it?" Elsa's voice turns sharp. "Anna, nobody deserves anything bad. Besides, what could you possibly do to deserve to be cheated on?"

"I wasn't paying her enough attention," says the redhead miserably, "I was always on the phone even when we were out together."

She takes a deep breath. "Oh, Anna." It comes out vaguely reprimanding, and Anna shrinks further into herself – if that's even possible. She's already a curled-up bundle of misery, crawling meekly into Elsa's lap, who starts stroking her auburn head.

"I know," comes this tiny voice that doesn't belong to her.

There are so many things Elsa can say, and even more she never will. She hesitates to even say anything comforting; Anna looks like she'll burst into tears any moment, her lip quivering, eyes red. Instead she says something simple: "Would you like a hug?"

Anna pulls her down and curls into her. Their bodies entwine, hip pressed to hip, Anna's face in the crook of Elsa's neck, her arms tight around the blonde's waist. Elsa's free hand rubs Anna's back and the tears finally come, soaking her shirt. They stay like that for what seems like hours; until Anna's tears dry, until her shoulders stop shaking, until her hitched breathing slows down and regains its rhythm. "Feeling better?" murmurs Elsa, and receives a nod. "Good."

"Thanks," sniffles Anna. She finally pulls away, scrubs at her face with her sleeve, pushes her fringe back into something presentable.

"I don't want to hear you say something like that again, Anna."

"Yeah."

"But…"

She blinks. "But?"

"But if her response to you not paying her attention was to inhale the nearest guy's tonsils, I think you're better off without her."

Anna chokes out a surprised laugh. "Elsa!"

"I'm just saying!" Elsa says defensively, raising both hands.

"You're terrible," she hiccoughs, but she doesn't tear up, doesn't look like the world is ending. The painful weight on Elsa's heart lifts.

"I know." The blonde slides off the bed so she can check her phone, whistles at the lateness of the hour. "Okay, you're not going back to your dorm at this time of night – morning, really. Do you have class tomorrow?"

Anna shrugs. "Yeah, around noon. Fine. I'll crash here."

"You can borrow my clothes. I don't think you want to show up for class all rumpled and dirty – you know how people talk."

"Mmm." She sounds like the day is finally catching up with her. Elsa places her hands on her hips and thinks; yanking back the blankets, she commands Anna to lie down and tucks her in. The blonde snatches up a pillow, tosses it on the floor together with an oversized varsity jacket. As Anna stares dumbly at her, she turns off the light. "Get some sleep and we'll talk more tomorrow. Okay?"

"H-hey! Elsa!" Despite the darkness, Anna's hand finds Elsa's. "You're not sleeping on the floor!"

"This is a single bed, in case you haven't noticed."

"I'm not that fat, and neither are you," she giggles.

"You've been eating a lot of chocolate recently…"

Anna gasps. Her fingers scrabble at Elsa's clothes, poke her sides. "Elsa!"

There's a pause which is broken by a long-suffering sigh. "Fine, fine," mutters Elsa grudgingly. Covers are pulled aside, Anna happily squeezes to the side, and Elsa settles down. "You'll regret this tomorrow," says Elsa, and the redhead giggles again, sounding too pleased by her friend's grouchiness.

I'm already regretting this now.

"Good night, Elsa."

"Good night."

Elsa closes her eyes, shifts a little as she tries to get comfortable in her own bed – and then it hits her that this is the first time they've shared a bed since before.

Before we broke up.

She can't do this. It's too much, the weight of memories in the gloom; kisses that wander, whispers becoming breathy sighs, hands stealing over naked skin… Elsa bites her lip to swallow the groan of desire. "This is a bad idea, Anna," she manages. "There's no room, I'm sleeping on the floor – Anna?"

No answer. She tries to turn as slowly as she can so she can squint at her in the gloom – she can't have fallen asleep that fast, can't she?

She can, and she has. Anna's chest rises and falls steadily; she shifts when Elsa moves, and snuggles closer. A weight rests over Elsa's belly as she lies rigid on her back, arms lying stiff at her sides. She doesn't dare move, for fear she will do something stupid and snuggle back. It's been far too long since they've shared a bed – and in Elsa's opinion, it should be longer. They should not be here at all. She knows too well how their bodies complement each other, and she also knows she shouldn't; she should gently but firmly disentangle herself from Anna, and get some sleep on the floor.

Telling Rapunzel everything is fine is one thing. Comforting Anna is another. This – cuddling with someone whom Elsa is not in a relationship with anymore – is unnecessarily cruel.

Anna mumbles something in her sleep, and presses her face to Elsa's shoulder, finding that same place when she was awake earlier. And just like that, Elsa is undone.

It's going to be a long, sleepless night.

Anna's gone when Elsa wakes. There's a note on the bedside table.

Elsa,

Sorry I rushed off without saying goodbye but you looked so tired, I couldn't bear to wake you up. I'll be in class all day but I'll see you for dinner if you're not busy?

Thanks for everything.

Love,

Anna

Elsa texts a "sure, see you tonight," to Anna.

It turns out that Anna's just started middle school, and Elsa's just left it. They meet on the bus home from school every day now – Elsa's family chauffeur still takes her to school early in the morning, and Anna's never early. Anna chatters about classes and homework and boys and music as Elsa listens.

"Come over to my house," says Anna one afternoon.

"Are you sure…?"

"Of course, silly. How else are you going to be able to listen to my Wicked soundtrack?"

"Uhm," starts Elsa. "Soundtrack?"

"It was my surprise early birthday present. You were listening, weren't you?"

"I was! It's just – " Elsa rubs her upper arm self-consciously. "I don't know if my parents will let me."

"You can call them from my house," insists Anna, "tell them you're at my place. We're practically neighbours, I'm sure they wouldn't mind."

They won't be home this early. Elsa calls home anyway to tell the butler that she won't be home for dinner either, since Anna's parents have invited her to stay and eat with them.

Dinner at Anna's house is… noisy. It's a change from mostly silent meals eaten alone in the dining room, where there are multiple courses and real silverware. Anna has rowdy foster siblings, plastic cutlery ("Ma doesn't trust us with the good stuff"), and two choices on the table ("Take it or leave it"). The best part for Elsa is seeing Anna in her element, arguing with her kid brother over the last helping of mashed potatoes, saving a slice of apple pie for her. She can't finish it, but it's the thought that counts.

Outside of class, Elsa doesn't spend much time with Anna while the redhead recovers from this latest heartache. She gives her plenty of space, waiting patiently for Anna to come looking for her when she's ready.

Life, unlike Elsa's expectations, doesn't grind to a shuddering halt. Classes go on like before, deadlines come and go, and she spends her time with a revolving door of friends in which Rapunzel is a permanent, disapproving, fixture. All of it without Anna, meaning everything burns a little dimmer, the stars have fallen out of their orbits. Elsa hasn't heard from her in days. It worries her more than she'll readily admit – especially under the hard gazes of Rapunzel and Merida (who has been filled in on the backstory by a very indignant, very biased Rapunzel).

Needless to say, Elsa escapes them in the chaos of an entire lecture theatre being released, and hides in in her room. Her phone lies on the bed, where she tossed it, dark and silent. She must have browsed through her chat log a hundred times today, noting Anna's login timestamps, but not daring to send a message for fear of being perceived as too clingy.

Her bag goes the way of her phone, then her jacket; Elsa deflates into her chair with a massive sigh.

Her phone chooses that moment to ring.

Contrary to the tension she's been feeling all day, Elsa doesn't spring up and snatch up the phone. She doesn't frantically stab at the accept button, and say a breathless 'hello' into the line. What she does is stare at the ringing phone without moving a muscle, and then slowly, slowly, she picks up the phone, watches it ring in her hand.

She picks up when it seems Anna – who else could it be – is about to hang up. Elsa listens intently for a few moments, snatches up her bag, and is gone.

"Why do these things happen to me, Elsa?"

"Shhh, it's okay."

"No, I mean it this time. Why do I keep picking the horrible ones?"

"It's nothing to do with you and everything to do with them. They're just horrible people who don't know what they've thrown away. Come on, Anna, they're not worth crying over. We'll go out and get that ice cream you like, and maybe watch a dumb comedy movie afterwards…" Of course, Elsa knows all of Anna's favourite movies, and she has quite the collection stored on her laptop; while she tries to soothe the redhead, she's already mentally shuffling through the list and trying to anticipate which one she would pick.

Anna pushes Elsa's hand away like a spoilt toddler. "And you! Why are you so nice to me, Elsa? I don't deserve it – not after…" She trails off, biting her lip, looking everywhere but at Elsa. It's the first time either of them has mentioned what they used to be – out loud at least – and it's jarring.

Elsa knows what's been unleashed from the Pandora box of memories; and so she says determinedly into the awkward silence: "You're still my friend, Anna; that hasn't changed, and never will. I lo – care about you so much."

Her head snaps up at that. Her eyes are watery. "I don't deserve you," she says, and then bursts into tears.

Elsa's arms ache to hold her. On any given day, she'd hug Anna whenever she was upset; a practice started while they were still dating, and something she continued to do without thinking after they went their separate ways. But now, her arms stay leaden by her sides, and the blonde watches her cry. "Anna…"

"You were always too good for me."

"What?"

Anna sniffles, and wipes her face with her sleeve sloppily. When she finally meets Elsa's shocked gaze, her eyes are burning with a familiar intensity. "Elsa, you were the best thing that ever happened to me, and I threw it away."

"Anna…"

"I never thought I deserved you. Not once. I did all these horrible things and you'd never get mad. You – you were so understanding, and it destroyed me inside, that I was a horrible person." She stutters to an abrupt halt, like a tape run out, and then adds: "I had to let you go because I was hurting you."

"Anna, no, that's not true, you're not a horrible person – "

"See! This is exactly what I mean!" Elsa hastily clamps her mouth shut, cowed by the force of Anna's outburst. She should have known; this is Anna's serious face, when nothing and no one can dissuade her from her tirade. "You just – you get me, Elsa, all of me, and no one else has even come close."

Oh, my beautiful girl.

"You weren't very selective about the other ones, then," Elsa says suddenly, and the other girl chuckles darkly.

"I know, right?" Anna runs a hand through her hair. "I just wasn't. I wanted someone, anyone, that was on my level. Someone I wouldn't feel bad about hurting." She smirks. "And looks like they thought the same of me."

Something tightens in Elsa's expression. She kneels on the bed, tugs insistently on Anna's sleeve. "Anna. That's enough. Go wash your face, you look terrible."

Surprisingly, she obeys. Once Anna pads out the door and to the bathroom, Elsa lets herself flop on the bed, suddenly exhausted. She hasn't thought about this in months. She's done too good a job of suppressing, of not dealing with those emotions.

Who would've guessed Anna did the same?

When she comes back, face and hair damp, she collapses alongside Elsa. "This is messed up," she mumbles, face-down on the blankets.

"Yeah."

And then the bed creaks when Anna moves suddenly. She's hovering over the blonde, hands planted on either side of Elsa's face, her hair hanging loose around her face. The tired expression on Elsa's face freezes.

"Anna…?" Elsa's voice comes out as a squeak.

She doesn't say anything. Her expression is intense.

When she kisses Elsa, the blonde is so surprised she forgets to breathe, gasping into the kiss, and she digs her fingernails into Anna's arm in her haste to push the redhead away. "You – "

Her face crumples. "Oh shit. Elsa, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have – that was stupid."

Elsa gnaws uncertainly on her lower lip. It wasn't stupid, she thinks. It's something that's haunted my dreams for so long. I want to tell you that I've missed you so much, and that you've ruined me for anyone else; that you've always been the one for me, ex-girlfriend code of conduct be damned. Never mind the last one has already been thrown out the window since the day Anna told her things weren't working out, because the next time someone broke Anna's heart, Elsa was there with open arms and a listening ear.

When her jaw drops open, it dawns on Elsa that she's said everything out loud.

"Elsa?"

Mortified, she covers her face with her hands, and Anna promptly tugs on her wrists. "Elsa, no. You've been hiding long enough."

"I'm sorry," she mumbles, hands still firmly affixed to her face.

"For what?"

"You weren't supposed to hear that."

"I wasn't?"

"I wasn't supposed to say all that."

"Elsa," she says in a sharp tone of voice that forces Elsa to listen, "is that what you've thought, all this while?"

The words unlock what's left inside of her. "I thought you got bored of me," says Elsa quietly, wincing when hurt flashes over Anna's face, "that you resented my being clingy and mushy."

"No, never."

"I thought you deserved better than me."

There's silence; hard and heavy. Anna looks like she's been slapped. "When we – broke up," she starts, "you didn't protest."

"You told me we weren't working out."

"Damn it, Elsa, why didn't you fight for me? For us?"

Her words cut deep. Elsa turns her head, lip trembling as the tears finally start to come. "I don't know," she whispers.

Anna eases herself down, her head resting on Elsa's chest. "Don't leave me again."

"I won't." I never left. I'll never leave. Elsa embraces the redhead, presses a kiss to the crown of her head. Anna's hold tightens.

"I love you," she says.

Elsa closes her eyes. She's missed this feeling, of how familiar the words are from Anna's lip. She feels like she's standing on the edge of a precipice, and she must choose whether she takes the plunge. "I love you," says Elsa, and it comes out without a stumble. Anna's response is to kiss her again. She's always been the impatient one, the one who initiates. Elsa holds on like she'll never let go.

It becomes abundantly clear what Anna wants when her hands move to the collar of Elsa's shirt, tugging it away to expose more skin. Elsa gasps, tilting her face upwards and away; Anna hums, pleased. They break apart so Elsa can pull her shirt over her head, Anna assisting eagerly.

When Elsa's hands find the hem of Anna's shirt, the redhead gently pulls them away, kissing the fingertips.

"Anna…"

"Shhh." She tugs on the waistband of Elsa's shorts. The blonde whimpers, lifting her hips, pressing them up into Anna. Fingers graze damp heat; Elsa inhales sharply.

Anna moves slow. She touches Elsa like she's delicate and precious, like this is the first time they are together, but each movement makes the blonde shudder, grab onto her lover tightly, beg her to stop teasing and start touching her where the heat is becoming unbearable –

"Anna, Anna – "

The redhead doesn't answer in words. The first touch of her tongue on Elsa is electric; the blonde moans into her hand, getting louder as Anna starts up a wonderfully familiar rhythm. Lips and tongue and teeth, gentle and then hard, the pleasure heightened by pain. Tears brim in Elsa's eyes. "Anna," she sobs, holding on for dear life, hips jerking helplessly.

It doesn't take long. It's been a while. When the last vestiges of pleasure fade away, Elsa comes back to find Anna at her shoulder, wearing an expression that manages to be smug and fond at the same time, and it's Anna gathering what's left of Elsa into her arms. She brushes hair from Elsa's sweaty forehead, and plants a kiss there.

"Now you," says the blonde, and Anna smiles.

And just as suddenly, she isn't there.

Elsa wakes alone in her bed. The alarm is ringing obnoxiously. She is sticky with sweat and arousal, limbs tangled in the sheets. Her bag and jacket are still where she has thrown them, and Elsa realizes she is still in yesterday's clothes.

A dream. A damned dream.

An incredulous laugh spills from her mouth. It felt so real, and yet so clichéd – as though Anna would come running back. As though she'd wake up and realise the person at her side would never leave, no matter how bruised and broken her heart was. As though the plots of television dramas played out in real life, and the lovers found their way back to each other because a higher power said it was meant to be.

The blonde reaches for her phone. It's a Tuesday, and she needs to be in class in about an hour.

And yet, she doesn't move. Not immediately.

Face burning red in shame and arousal, Elsa slips a hand into her shorts. Tears leak from closed eyes. The blonde pictures Anna's flushed face and half-lidded eyes beside her, and she is gone.

The table is silent, apart from the clink of silverware on china, and the sloshing of wine in glasses. Elsa isn't alone this time, however; her parents, for once, are home early and they are having dinner together.

Her father sets down his knife and fork. "Kai tells me you haven't been having dinner at home lately."

"That is true, Father," she says stiffly. "I've been having dinner with a friend of mine from school. She lives nearby."

"Mmmm." He takes a sip of his wine. "Her parents don't mind?"

"No, sir." Or at least they don't say it. Elsa thinks back to the cheerful faces of Anna's parents, bidding her to come again the next day, joking about their new third daughter, suggesting she join them on their weekend excursions.

"That's generous of them," says Mother.

"It is."

"But," says her father, "it's not as though we should go on imposing on them. One of these days, you must invite your friend to have dinner with us."

Elsa hesitates. She's embarrassed to bring someone as lively and cheerful as Anna into her dull and cold world – it's a small miracle she enjoys spending time with Elsa herself. "I'll ask," says Elsa nonchalantly.

"It's been two weeks," says Elsa, "since you last replied my text. I thought you'd died." Her voice is perfectly inflectionless.

Anna lets out a surprised giggle. "Has it?"

"Around there," she hastily amends. "Certainly felt like it."

"Sorry."

"No big deal. Busy?"

"Oh, you have no idea."

"Clearly, which is why I asked."

Anna giggles. "Bitch." Before Elsa can reply, she launches into a long monologue, most of which is lost to the background noise apart from a few keywords; just enough for a summary of events pasted together with educated guesses.

"At least you handed in your essay on time," comments Elsa carefully. She already feels a lot better just listening to the sound of Anna's voice.

"Absolutely. But I am so done with writing."

"What about the three remaining years of school you have left?"

"I will just have to find classes that accept interpretive dance as term papers," says Anna very seriously.

"Remind me not to be in the vicinity of the exam hall," laughs Elsa, doing her best to keep her face straight as the image of Anna writhing over a table floats before her eyes. It rapidly turns sexy – the blonde bites down on her lip, hard, to cut short that dangerous train of thought. "Anyway," Anna's saying in her ear, "I'm sorry for completely neglecting you, Elsa. I'll be done with everything by tomorrow so I can start making it up to you. Wanna watch horrible movies and eat popcorn?"

Elsa thinks of the term paper that's due tomorrow at midnight. She thinks about having Anna and yet, not having her. She pushes both thoughts away and says warmly, "Of course."

Anna, of course, loves the idea.

"Of course I'll come for dinner!" she had squealed. "I – oh, I don't have anything to wear – " She trails off into her own little world.

"Anna, it's fine. You don't need to be anything but yourself."

She gives Elsa a small smile, a painfully vulnerable echo of her normal self. Elsa smiles back, rubbing Anna's upper arms.

"Really?"

"Of course."

Before Elsa knows it, she finds herself seated at the table, watching as Anna coos over the linen napkins and assorted cutlery ("Oh, wow, I don't even have that many hands to use all this!"), and thanks Kai profusely for helping her lay her napkin over her lap.

Her parents – miraculously, Elsa thinks – are present at dinner. Elsa cringes as Anna answers their polite questions with her mouth full, uses the wrong fork for her main course, tries and fails to peel a prawn with her knife and fork. They are too well-mannered to comment, but Anna seems to sense their disapproval; she grows more subdued as the meal progresses, and not even the special chocolate gateau Elsa requested the chef prepare can lift her spirits.

"I messed up," says Anna suddenly as Elsa is walking her home, Benson following in his car from a discreet distance – their compromise on sending Anna back.

"You didn't, Anna," replies Elsa, somewhat desperately. She's seized by the sudden fear that Anna won't want to be friends with her anymore. "I meant what I said. You didn't have to be anything other than yourself, and you were, and I'm so glad."

"Even when I thought the finger bowls were some sort of cold soup?" asks Anna dryly.

"Even then."

Anna chuckles. But a second later, her eyes turn dull and she proclaims, "You must have hated all the noise and mess at my house."

"Wait, what?"

"I mean, that's how you normally eat. We just aren't as well-off, and it shows." And she looks so dejected that Elsa grabs her hand impulsively.

"I don't care about any of that," says Elsa fiercely, "I love eating at your house, I love your house, and I love your family. I'm proud that you're my friend."

Anna smiles. "I'm proud you're my friend, too," she says, squeezing Elsa's hand.

"'M sorry," says Anna suddenly. There's more, but it's too muffled to hear. Elsa frowns and tears her eyes away from the laptop screen.

"I'm sorry, what was that again?"

"I'm sorry. For everything."

"Like what?"

She laughs. Anna's laugh is normally sweet, but this time it's flat, toneless. "For jerking you around like this. Exes aren't supposed to be cuddling during our weekly movie nights, aren't they?"

So very true, but of course Elsa doesn't say that – though she wishes Anna isn't so self-aware at this precarious time. "You've nothing to be sorry for," she says decisively instead. "We were friends before anything else, and I don't believe in throwing away a friendship just because we decided we couldn't be anything more."

Before she decided we shouldn't be anything more.

"I don't deserve you."

Elsa jolts, remembering how the wet dream played out. "That's rubbish."

Anna laughs despondently. "You're the sweetest, but we both know that isn't true."

The blonde puts aside every other thought and wraps her arms around Anna's waist, burying her face in the crook of her neck. Her eyes are screwed shut. "It's the truth, and honestly I can't ever imagine not doing this with you."

"This…?"

"… not having you as a friend," clarifies Elsa. She's glad Anna can't see her blush.

"Oh." An awkward laugh, more of a snort. "Yeah, me too."

As things settle back to normal, the semester winding down, Anna calls Elsa up in a flurry of excitement, telling her about someone she wants "my absolute best friend" to meet.

It's a boy this time. Elsa blinks, stunned.

"This is Kristoff. Kristoff, Elsa."

He smiles bashfully. "Pleasure to meet you," he says, extending a huge hand that engulfs Elsa's, looking as though he means it. "I've heard so much about you."

"Pleasure's all mine." While it's clear he's only really comfortable with Anna, he makes an admirable effort at not clinging too closely so as not to make Elsa uncomfortable. The blonde appreciates it; all of Anna's exes were never that considerate, seeing Elsa as a rival for the redhead's affections.

If only they knew how right they were.

Elsa does him the courtesy of not being coldly distant, as she normally does with Anna's partners.

"He's an engineering major," says Anna, hanging onto his arm. "I'm not too sure which kind, because apparently there are different kinds of engineering."

"We've gone over this a million times," he remarks, and they both exchange smiles at some inside joke Elsa doesn't know. Kristoff's smile turns a shade warmer whenever he's looking at Anna. "My true passion is ice carving."

"That's an unusual hobby," comments Elsa.

"Yeah."

"Oh, oh, and get this," interrupts Anna, waving a hand for Elsa's attention, "his favourite animal is a reindeer."

"That's not weird, okay? Reindeer are awesome."

Anna turns her head, makes some flippant remark that has Kristoff shaking his head, but Elsa doesn't notice. All she sees is that when Anna looks at him, there's a spark, an undeniable something that was lacking in all the others.

Elsa goes cold.

Elsa does her best to distance herself from Anna's life; she takes more time to answer phone calls. She's busier with other people and activities. She has a lot of schoolwork that simply can't be put off. Before she knows it, she's uncontactable.

It helps that Anna's busy with Kristoff.

Elsa is left feeling foolish that she hadn't done it earlier, when they had broken up and it was so much easier to cut all ties. The few odd times they all meet, Elsa keeps her distance. She can't bring herself to watch how happy Anna is with Kristoff, without her. It's a strange sensation – swelling with so much happiness it starts to choke.

Slowly, she lets go. Hours turn to days and weeks before text messages are replied. Elsa has more schoolwork and excuses keeping her from seeing Anna. At first, the blonde expects Anna to break down her door within the week demanding an explanation and mandatory attendance to movie nights.

She expected phone calls, text messages, assaults through every form of social media possible – plus new ones cropping up weekly.

She expected life to slowly grind on over the newly-exposed void and wear it down to a dull ache.

None of that happened.

The day before the semester is due to end, Anna shows up on Elsa's doorstep with her laptop – the chick flick they've both been wanting to see already loaded – and a megawatt smile. It's an appropriate description, thinks Elsa, because it instantly lights up the room. "I know you weren't expecting company tonight," says Anna, her glance sweeping around the stripped-bare room, "but do you think you can put me on your schedule?"

"… Of course, Anna. Anytime."

They curl up on Elsa's bed with the laptop balanced on their thighs, pillowed by bags of clothes. Anna's arms are curled loosely around Elsa's waist, her head on the blonde's shoulder; Elsa's fingers rest on Anna's hip as she leans into her. She savours the familiar fragrance of Anna's shampoo.

"Oh, come on," says Anna to the hapless protagonist onscreen. "Kiss her. Now. Quick, before she goes off. Kiss her, you idiot."

"You do realise he can't hear you, right?"

"Shush. I'm trying my best to save him from a life spent alone."

"They'll get together eventually. In about – " Elsa checks the tracking bar, " – 47 minutes."

Anna doesn't say anything. "Kristoff and I broke up," she says, and from the way Elsa's hand stiffens on Anna's hip, she wasn't expecting it. The hero bumbles into another mess, the heroine goes off with the love rival, and she has yet to draw a breath.

"… what?" They were so stupidly in love, and he was so good for her, and she looked so happy –

"It just wasn't working out." She sounds nonchalant, but Elsa can sense the reticence in her voice as she tries to convince her that everything is fine. It makes it clear that everything is not fine.

Elsa pauses the movie. Anna makes a noise of protest.

"Anna, what happened? You know you can talk to me about anything, don't you?" Honestly, it's more of a formality than anything else, but with all the others Anna has been free with the details, with her analysis of the little cracks which split the iceberg. It's a bad sign when she's reluctant to talk. It hasn't since they were dating, and Elsa made the mistake of asking her about her first boyfriend.

She nods, chin bobbing into Elsa's shoulder. But still she doesn't speak.

Elsa waits a minute, the silence becomes too overwhelming, before she lets the subject drop. Anna relaxes into her side. The movie plays on, and Anna falls asleep sometime before the hero gets the girl and lives happily ever after. The blonde can tell from the slow way Anna snuggles into her.

She won't wake her. She'll relish each stolen moment as they come, and Elsa quietly replays the movie from the start. The plot fades into the background, all the twists no longer a surprise, and the blonde squints at the characters' faces; does she know he really does love her? Does he know she's waiting for him to say something? Do they know that everything was just a big misunderstanding, and everything will be fine at the end?

Anna snorts awake just when the final climactic scene is unfolding. "Huh," she mumbles, voice heavy with sleep. "Thought I dozed off."

"You did. You're just in time for the second time watching."

"Second watching?" Anna hums. "It's not a complex movie like Interstellar. Is there really a need for a second watching – unless it's really good?"

"It's good," says Elsa.

The girls spend a lot of time with each other despite their increasing differences; while Elsa is a loner, Anna has plenty of friends. Elsa prefers the company of her books; Anna is an active member of many school clubs. Elsa is a top student, already tipped to be valedictorian of her graduating class (despite still being a freshman), while Anna can think of a million other things to do than study.

Distantly, Elsa knows she should take issue with that, as Anna's unofficial big sister. But she loves those afternoons when Anna draws her away from her books with promises of ice-cream and secret hidey-holes.

In the fading light of a day spent doing nothing at all, they promise each other that nothing will ever change, and that they will always be friends.

Elsa is going home for the holidays. She isn't looking forward to one month of being under her parents' watchful eye and firm hand.

Anna sees her off at the bus station. They make a pair; Elsa, stiff like a statue, while Anna slumps in her seat, her puppet strings cut. She opted not to go home this holiday since her parents have gotten another raucous batch of foster kids and she complained that it would be noisy.

"You'll be fine at home, won't you?" asks the redhead suddenly. "I mean, with your parents and all…" Anna trails off.

Elsa smiles weakly at her. "They'll be the same as they've been all these years. I think I can manage."

"You're always welcome at my place – with my parents. Or you can come back to campus early to keep me company."

"We'll see how it goes," says Elsa, and that's her polite way of saying no. Anna purses her lips, but then the bus shows up.

Elsa sits at the head of the table in the dining room. It's empty, as expected. Still, she asks the butler whether her parents will be joining her for dinner.

"I'm afraid not, Miss," says the man apologetically, "and they've instructed me to inform you not to expect them home so soon."

She nods, disguising the downturn of her mouth with a sip from her glass. It's always been this way – since she was a little girl and even before she could remember – and she's a fool for hoping things would change now that she's away at school for most of the year. There's no need to eat at the formal table, so she eats a light meal in the kitchen with the staff (they promise not to breathe a word to her parents) and retires to her room. It's not very homey – she took most of her things to college – but the bed's been made up.

She's planning to stay a week, make her excuses, and hurry back to campus.

Elsa steps off the bus into warm sunshine; as Anna runs forward to throw her arms around her, she thinks that home has never stopped being in Anna's arms.

"Have a good holiday?"

"You already know," replies Elsa. They never stopped texting each other over the week apart, and so there's no need to update Anna on what little has happened in her home. "And you?"

Anna makes a rolling motion with a free hand, the other still wrapped around Elsa's waist. "Nothing much. Just binge-watching a lot of shows I've missed out on."

"Sounds fun."

"You say that, but wait 'til you wake up a couple of days later slumped in front of your laptop, surrounded by empty snack wrappers, and wonder what your life has become."

The day is balmy enough so they don't hide under the bleachers like they normally do. Elsa sits, prim and proper, like she's about to have tea with the Queen; Anna sprawls out with her feet up on the lower bench.

"Looks like I'm going to your high school," says Anna happily; the letter is still clutched in her hand.

"Looks like I'm stuck with you for another couple of years," teases Elsa, and they both laugh. She's comfortable enough to say these things around Anna because they both know she doesn't actually mean it. "Have you thought about college yet?"

The redhead lets out a little groan. "Typical Elsa. I haven't started high school yet and you're already thinking about college."

"Well, it's good to plan ahead."

"Yeah." Anna leans back on her elbows, head resting on the bench behind her. "I thought I'd go to the local community college," she addresses the sky, "maybe study something sports-related."

"Sports medicine?" Anna's a fantastic athlete, so she might even be on a varsity team – go professional, even. Elsa thinks a lot of Anna's abilities. "You could win a sports scholarship for that."

"Nah, not with all the competition. But sports medicine, that's a possibility." Anna turns her head to look at Elsa. "Can you imagine me in a white coat, though?"

Anna would look damned fine even in a garbage bag, but Elsa doesn't say this. She hopes the colour in her cheeks would be attributed to the heat of the day.

"Just because it's medicine doesn't mean you'll have to wear a white coat, Anna."

Anna waves her away. "On the other hand, I can totally imagine you in a suit, sitting at the head of a mega corporation, giving million-dollar presentations where everyone hangs on to your every word," continues Anna, oblivious to the effect she has on Elsa, "the youngest CEO in a century. Like Steve Jobs."

Elsa bursts out laughing. "Me, a CEO?"

"Why not? You could totally be one. You're super-smart, and hardworking." She gestures at herself. "Traits sadly lacking in yours truly."

"Don't sell yourself short. You're smart too," says Elsa. It's true that Anna has a razor-sharp wit that could run rings around Elsa's any given day, but it doesn't show in her academic work because Anna "doesn't apply herself", in her teacher's words. Anna just doesn't think there's anything wrong with putting schoolwork on hold to go out and enjoy a beautiful day.

"Don't forget my stunning good looks," jokes Anna.

"Smart and pretty, then."

Anna laughs. In the late afternoon breeze, wisps of auburn hair coming free of her braids and framing her face, she is every bit as beautiful as Elsa has always seen her.

In this moment, Elsa realizes she is in love.

SchooI starts up slow, like a car on a winter's morning. Elsa bumps into Kristoff on campus one afternoon. His brow furrows like he's forgotten something.

"Oh, hey," he says, "Elsa, right?"

"Yeah. Hi Kristoff. Nice to see you."

"Same." He's got a genuinely warm smile for someone he's only known for about five minutes. "How's things?"

Elsa thinks about Anna. "Good. Great, even. You?"

"Can't complain." A laugh. "The semester's only just started, so not yet, at any rate."

The conversation is stilted. Elsa shifts her weight on the balls of her feet, checks her watch, all the while thinking of an excuse to move on without hurting his feelings. Kristoff adjusts the strap of his backpack and casually says, "So how's Anna?"

It's completely innocuous, and yet Elsa hesitates long enough to make it sound suspicious. "Uhm, fine? I think," she says, politely neutral; unsure if he thinks she know about them, and – even worse – wants to talk about it.

"Oh. That's good." He pushes his beanie from his fringe. It's clear he thinks this conversation is awkward too. "We broke up."

"I heard. Sorry."

"Nah, it's not your fault." He follows it up with a laugh, as though the idea of Elsa coming in between them is ludicrous. "It just wasn't working out. Guess we're better as friends."

There isn't anything Elsa can think to say, and from the relaxed slant of his shoulders, it's apparent that he isn't expecting a reply.

"Have you talked to Anna recently?" he says with a meaningful glance that suggests he isn't as dumb as he looks, that Elsa probably owes him an apology. Except she doesn't, because they weren't really friends in the first place. "Is she doing okay?"

"Yeah, and I guess so."

"Oh. That's good." Kristoff glances behind. "Look, I have to run. Class. Sorry."

"No problem. I have to go too. So. See you around?"

"Yeah, see you, Elsa."

"You know, I've always wondered if it was me or them," says Anna abruptly when Elsa comes back from her shower. Still fully-dressed, she's sprawled over the bed, her backpack and books cluttering up the floor.

"What?"

"It's not you, it's me," she says with relish. "That's the script those godawful TV shows always use. Maybe they've got a point?"

Elsa goes to sit down beside her, completely taken aback by the sudden shift in conversation. "Anna, that's not fair at all. We've gone over this a thousand times and there's nothing wrong with you. It's just that you've dated a lot of people with lots of interests and personalities and quirks, and you can't click with every single person out there."

"Yes, but all of them?" She threw up her hands, let them thump listlessly back down. "Statistically there has to be at least one that can tolerate me."

"Now you're being too harsh," the blonde says quickly, glad for the opportunity to redirect the conversation away from its dangerous path. "There are plenty of other factors you're not taking into consideration."

She sighs. "I just want someone who accepts me for who I am," she says in a tiny voice, and there's too much recent hurt in her voice.

"And none of the people you've dated were able to do that?" asks Elsa, sounding incredulous.

"It's not that! What I meant was – they didn't treat me as an equal. Like – Ariel treated me like a good friend, not her girlfriend. I could tell she was holding back, and it hurt me – like I wanted to share the good and bad things, you know?"

"Kristoff was too nice, and it scared me. He was kind and good and it was completely terrifying because I thought he could be the one. You know – that One. I just – it's been ages since anyone felt like that. They always pointed out a flaw or something they wanted me to change. Or they were good, but it wasn't great. I'm rambling, aren't I? Am I making sense?"

She glances at Elsa. For a fleeting moment, Elsa wants to ask what went wrong with them, but doesn't.

"Just barely, but I get it," says Elsa instead.

"Relationships have to be this give and take thing – complementing each other. Completing each other. Like a partnership. If Kristoff and I were to stay together, I know he'd be the one looking out for me, looking after me, bending over backward to make sure I'm happy. Do you know," her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, "that I said we had to get married next month because my parents wanted to see their grandchildren before they died, and he actually told me with a straight face that he had some money saved up so he could support me if I wanted to drop out of school. We'd only been dating a couple of months. What kind of guy does that?"

Someone very sweet and very smitten, thinks Elsa, impressed despite herself. "Yes, I suppose most people wouldn't respond that way…"

"Precisely zero would. And – crazy as it sounds – I don't want that." Anna sat upright with a speed that startled her friend. "I want someone who… who will yell at me for leaving my stuff around."

"Sounds like your mom."

She scowls. "I meant someone who won't change for anyone else, not even me, because they know I love them as they are. Someone who would do the same for me. Is that… too much to ask for? " Anna falls silent, picking at the hem of her shirt.

"Oh, Anna." Elsa doesn't know what she can say. She settles for pulling the younger girl into a hug. "I hope you find that someone soon."

Elsa's seen her in the hallways once or twice – freshman and senior class schedules don't always coincide – she'd know that head of auburn hair anywhere.

Anna, on her part, always makes time to wave at her. She interrupts whatever she's doing at that moment with comedic exaggeration; once, Anna socked the boy at her side in the head – she's always with a friend, she's never alone like Elsa is – when her arm shot up, flailing desperately to get Elsa's attention as she crossed the cafeteria.

Elsa always waves back.

Elsa forgets the names of the next two people Anna dates. The only thing she remembers is their atrocious facial hair; one with a tiny patch of a goatee, the other with sideburns.

The only thing that she really cares about is Anna. She grows more withdrawn as the days pass and the inevitable breakups happen. She spends most of her time in the older girl's room without saying a word, and she leaves early in the mornings, her pillow damp to the touch. She doesn't protest when Elsa imposes movie nights, tucks her in – basically any excuse to touch her – but she doesn't respond either.

The blonde is at her wits' end.

Without needing to say anything, they leave Anna's graduation party early. They take her car out to the lake and sit on the hood. It's not the usual bleachers, but it'll do.

"High school," says Anna, "went by a lot faster than I expected."

"You're still too young to be nostalgic. Wait until you've graduated from university."

Anna laughs. "Oh, speaking of which…" She fishes in the pockets of her oversized varsity jacket, coming up with a crumpled piece of paper. "I sent out a few college applications early…"

Elsa holds her breath.

"… and guess who's headed to Arendelle University this autumn," finishes Anna triumphantly, both arms held aloft.

The blonde claps her hands to her mouth. "Anna, that's amazing. Congratulations." A weight in her heart she hadn't known she'd been carrying melts away.

"I know, right? And it only took a few buckets of elbow grease, and plenty of brown-nosing with the admissions department," she grins. "Mind you, I wasn't really expecting to get in."

"What are you talking about? You're brilliant, of course you'd get in."

In the moonlight, Anna's expression is inscrutable. "Yeah, but it's a good thing I did, though it doesn't really change what I came out here to tell you."

"Anna…?"

She turns her head. Her hand finds Elsa's cheek and she leans in to kiss her. Anna pulls away after a long moment and says, "If I hadn't been accepted to Arendelle, this would've been a lot more painful."

Elsa, still a little dazed, touches her lips. "Anna, are you trying to say…?"

"I really like you, Elsa Brundtland, you idiot. It's okay if you don't feel the same, or you don't even swing that way – actually, I never asked, right? God, I'm the idiot."

Elsa silences her with a touch on her cheek. "I thought you already knew how I feel about you," she says, kissing her back.

The first time wasn't really a breakup. Anna was still part of Elsa's life, and she never really needed to mourn the loss of their relationship. After the initial period of awkwardness, things went back to normal. They met for meals and movie nights. They went out with mutual friends after assuring them that they was perfectly okay as friends.

This time, though; things are different. Without meaning to, they've slipped apart like shadows in the dawn; Elsa doesn't hear from Anna anymore. The pain isn't the flare of a fresh wound, but a dull ache that never had the chance to heal. She nurses a broken heart and soul through the tedium of everyday life, all her energy going into keeping the pieces together so people won't pry.

Rapunzel keeps a safe distance. She's nagged Elsa about this for so long, but now that it's finally done, she can't bring herself to say "I told you so". But she understands that she need her space in grieving.

So Elsa mourns what she lost a long time ago.

They cuddle in the backseat of Anna's car, completely wrapped up in each other, talking in hushed whispers, exchanging kisses simply because they can. Elsa is positively giddy with exhilaration, with the knowledge that her heart's desire wants her back almost as much.

"So all this while you've liked me?" asks Anna, incredulous. "Why didn't you say anything? We could have – we could have spent all of this time together."

"I was scared," says Elsa. She presses her face into Anna's neck, breathes in her scent. "I thought you didn't feel the same way. And we're both girls."

"I'm quite aware of that," says Anna dryly. The rebuke is gentle, her expression tender. When she kisses Elsa again, there's a softness that sends Elsa's heart racing all over again.

After the first two weeks, things get a fraction easier. The absence of movie nights means Elsa suddenly has a lot more time on her hands. That means more time spent outside of the room in the company of others (lovingly enforced by Rapunzel) and in hobbies she had always wanted to try. Elsa tries LAN gaming (she finds she is surprisingly good at that; who knew?) and plays lacrosse, takes a few classes in ballroom dancing, horseback riding, even karaoke.

She even goes on a date. Belle is French, obsessed with books, and has a hidden wild streak. They don't do anything other than eat and laugh, with a few shy kisses in between, but Elsa enjoys spending time with her.

It's fun, but it doesn't have quite the same spark to it.

And by spark, there is only one very specific spark.

"You're useless," says Rapunzel over the headset (she's playing the healer to the party). "Couldn't you find a better time to tell me these things?"

"There's never a good time for this sort of thing."

"Face to face, Elsa. Human communication isn't overrated."

Elsa's ice mage waves his middle finger at the healer. Rapunzel hoots with laughter.

Anna has been getting more withdrawn over the course of her first semester. It's to be expected of course; the transition from high school to college isn't easy. Elsa's been there for her every step of the way with chocolate and kisses, late-night tutoring, and a shoulder to cry on.

When Anna trudges through the door and collapses on the bed, it's an ominous sign. Elsa immediately closes her textbook and goes to hold her girlfriend.

"Rough day?"

"Mmm," says Anna, sighing as Elsa kisses her temple. "Better now."

"Flatterer." Elsa's kisses grow insistent and start to stray.

"I only speak the truth." Anna cups Elsa's face in her hands, stilling her, and kisses her hard. Elsa's hands move towards the zip of Anna's hoodie, unzipping it as the younger woman giggles into the kiss.

"Impatient and naughty. What are those hands doing, hmm?"

"What you're too slow to do," replies Elsa. Anna shudders as those hands make quick work of the top button of her jeans and the zipper, sliding inside her panties to tease wet heat. "Lie down, good girl."

Anna looks like she would reply if her mind wasn't elsewhere. She obligingly lies down, spreading her legs for Elsa, lifting her hips so the older woman can yank her clothing down.

The jeans only make it as far as Anna's knees before Elsa loses patience. The redhead moans, back arching, as Elsa brings her to climax.

And then suddenly everything isn't easy.

Elsa's phone lights up, and her thumb freezes over the screen. It's a text from Anna.

Can I come in?

Wordlessly she opens the door. Anna's already tucked her phone back into her pocket, face sheepish.

"Hi, Elsa."

"Anna?"

She looks like she's about to cry. Elsa moves without thinking; taking her hand, she leads her to bed. One hand presses her shoulder and Anna sits obediently. The other offers her a tissue snagged from the desk.

"I'm sorry," she says. There are many things she could mean; Elsa waits for her to clarify. The apprehension must have shown, because Anna sniffs and adds hastily, "for stringing you along like that. I just – I'm a horrible person."

"Wait, what?" A part of Elsa wants to refute it, like a knee-jerk reaction – just like how she automatically goes to comfort Anna. But the rest of her holds back. This isn't the time for it; Anna's expression is determined, bordering on stubbornness, and Elsa gets the feeling she's been rehearsing this.

Best she follow the script.

"I – I'm not very good at being alone," says Anna. "I need people around, and sometimes I forget that they're – well – people, and I don't respect them. Elsa – " She stumbles a little, and forges on. " – with you it was something else completely. I'd never felt that before, and it scared me. You scared me – in a good way!" Anna smiles sheepishly, though her lip trembles a little. She's terrified. Elsa's hand twitches at her side, but she doesn't react in any other way.

"So I ended it." Anna flushes scarlet. "I ran."

"Oh," says Elsa.

"But I couldn't give everything up." A shadow darkens her eyes. Anna looks ashamed now. "I needed – no, wanted – you around, but in a way that I could – manage, y'know? I could decide when I needed you and when I didn't."

Elsa had already guessed as much, but hearing the truth put forward so bluntly – by Anna, no less – makes her feel foolish. Indignant, as well, though Elsa isn't sure why. Perhaps because this is Anna, gentle sweet Anna, and Elsa's always been hopelessly in love with her.

"And why are you telling me all this now?"

"It took me ages, and dating all of those people for me to realise the truth," continues Anna. "You're the one for me, Elsa. And I've gone and messed it all up. I understand if you never want to see me again. I'm sorry I showed up today; I was so messed up and I needed to sort everything out for you. You deserve an explanation at the very least."

That bitterness loosens her tongue. "Anna. It's been weeks. We were friends, and then you stopped talking to me. You were miserable the last few times we spent time together."

Anna winces. "I know. I'm sorry. I was confused, and I needed time to think."

"You could have told me. I would have understood."

"You always do." It doesn't sound like a compliment this time, and Anna's getting to her feet, reaching for her backpack. "I don't want to take up any more of your time," she mumbles.

"Anna, wait."

She does, halfway through the doorway.

Elsa's heart is pounding in her chest. "… What if I told you I feel the same way?"

Anna turns her head just enough so Elsa can see the tears in her eyes. "Elsa, I…"

"I never stopped loving you," says Elsa, quickly, before she can lose her nerve, "but we can't be anything right now, you know that."

"… I understand."

There's a knock on the door. Elsa opens it promptly.

"Anna?" An incredulous laugh. "Silly girl. You know I'm in, why don't you just let yourself in?"

She looks up, a world-weary expression in her eyes that stops Elsa in her tracks. "Anna, what's wrong?"

"Elsa, we need to talk."

"Talk? About?"

"About us."

Elsa goes still. For once, she wishes Anna wasn't that straightforward. It doesn't bode well. "What's there to talk about?"

"I don't think… we haven't been okay for a while. That there's something wrong with us."

"We can talk about it. We'll make it work." Elsa reaches for Anna's hand; she keeps away, shaking her head slowly.

"I'm sorry, Elsa. I never wanted it to end." There are tears in Anna's eyes.

"It doesn't have to end!"

"Yes it does. For both our sakes. It's killing you, Elsa, and I can't bear to see you hurt."

"Killing me?" Elsa can't breathe. "You're leaving. That's what's killing me. Please, Anna, we can talk it out. I know I haven't been the best girlfriend – "

" – Elsa, stop it!" The outburst stuns them both. Anna continues in a more even tone, "There's nothing to apologise for. You've done nothing wrong."

Seeing Anna like this, white-faced and tense, Elsa makes a decision. "If you want to break up, I won't stop you," says Elsa. "Maybe you're right. Maybe we need to end it. If that's what you want." The words come without stopping now, even though each one breaks Elsa's heart a little more. "C-come to think of it, we hardly spend time together these days, anyway."

"What?" Anna looks hurt now. She folds her arms across her chest.

"I didn't want to say it, but I think it's for the best." The lies spill easily from her mouth. "We're in college now. We don't have to hang on so desperately, you know."

"I – you never mentioned any of this."

"I know, but at least I'm saying it now." Elsa is too drained to feel anything.

Anna has always been the impulsive one, while Elsa's the one likely to sit down and mull over the decision-making process.

So Elsa goes through the motions – even though she hasn't very many choices. In a way, she feels justified hearing her long-buried feelings are requited. But at the same time, Elsa doesn't want Anna to love her. Something holds her back – which is absurd, really, considering she's waited so long – and she doesn't know what it could be.

You deserve more than someone who keeps you on a leash, says a nasty little voice in her head. Anna is Anna, but Anna never let you go. Can you truly be happy with someone like that?

How can someone who feels so right for her, who makes her so happy, be wrong?

Days turn to weeks, weeks slip into months. Anna is conspicuous in her absence – in the way acquaintances ask after her, when Elsa find that sweater she lost while packing up her dorm room, when social media reminds her to keep in touch.

It's important, that last one. They're wearing their mortarboards and gowns, and it's time to collect that scroll, the culmination of four years of never-ending toil and tears. Rapunzel's decided to delay entering the real world. She's finally leaving for art school – the economics degree was for her parents' benefit – with a view towards getting an internship in a nearby gallery. Kristoff's going home to his family farm. Elsa's the only one putting her degree to use. She starts at a modest architectural firm downtown next Monday. There won't be any last student holiday hurrah.

She can't wait to leave her student days behind, tainted as they are with bittersweet memories.

Her parents are in the audience, here for the graduation of their only daughter. She isn't graduating at the top of her class, but Elsa's long past that stage of desperately seeking their approval. She's much more than just the embodiment of her parents' wishes.

Anna taught her that.

Speaking of Anna…

Elsa doesn't look for her in the audience, even as she goes onstage to collect her degree scroll. She doesn't look back as she leaves the school.

Epilogue

All of this went forgotten until very recently, when Elsa turns the corner on her way home from work and bumps into Anna.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was – Elsa?"

"Anna?"

Her hands fly to her face. "Oh. Oh! Elsa, it's really you! It's been so long!" And then everything is gone, vanished in a mass of auburn hair that smells exactly the same, and she is so warm and solid in Elsa's arms. Before she can react Anna's pulling away, wearing that ridiculously awkward smile, tugging her fringe behind her right ear.

They go to a nearby cafe, and it's as though they have never been apart – well, since breaking up, of course. Back from that lull in between when they were closer than ex-lovers should be, and yet not just friends. The awkwardness of their last conversation is nowhere to be found.

They're good at it, they've had practice.

While Elsa's been dwelling on all these thoughts, and reliving the years of college, Anna talks about her life now and what the blonde has missed through the five years in between.

"We're not kids anymore, Elsa," she says, strangely wistful, and takes a sip of hot chocolate.

Elsa arches an eyebrow. "We weren't kids even before we went to college."

"Yes, but physically. I think I've done most of my growing up in the past five years."

"… Has it been that long?"

Anna laughs. "Yes." Her slender hands cup the mug. "Time flies."

"If I had a dime for every time I heard that phrase…"

"Then I won't enrich you further," she says solemnly, then her face cracks into an irrepressible smile. Elsa has missed that. She smiles back – though it hurts – and says nothing more.

They lapse back into silence. It's deafening. Elsa takes minute sips of her coffee. Anna toys with her spoon. Time ticks on in the background.

"I've missed this."

"This?" Elsa needs an elaboration.

"Us."

"Anna…"

"Just us being together like this," she explains, "not – us."

"Oh." She can't tell whether it's relief or disappointment that's swelling her chest, making it hard to breathe. But then Anna's talking again.

"After what I did to you, I don't think I have the right to want that anymore," says Anna with a deliberately light – but still bitter – laugh.

"What are you saying? Anna, you didn't – do anything."

"I didn't do anything? You mean, I didn't drag you around like a grounded kite on a string?" The Anna she knows would be flushed with anger by now, crackling with indignant energy. But this new Anna five years on is coldly disdainful of herself, speaking in measured and scathing tones. "I would say that I was young and stupid, Elsa, but that doesn't make everything better. Therefore, I screwed up. End of story."

Elsa is silent. The truth is ugly in its baldness.

"That's not it. Not yet," she blurts.

"Elsa?"

"I," swallow, take a deep breath, and try again, "I wanted it. I wanted to be a part of your life in any way I could, and it didn't matter to me whether we were in a relationship or – I was a kite on a string. It didn't matter."

Anna's lip twitches, but she continues listening intently.

"I loved that you needed me. It wasn't always the way I wanted you to need me, but – I had you. It was enough. Anna, you were – you are – the one for me. That hasn't changed." The sudden eloquence leaves as soon as it arrives. Her gaze remains downcast.

Anna is silent. When she speaks, it's to ask something she wasn't expecting: "That hasn't changed? Even now?"

This is something Elsa has been thinking about for the past five years, since Anna walked out the door. She's had time to consider her next words very, very carefully.

"Yes."

Anna's jaw slackens. "I see."

They pay up and leave, going their separate ways. Elsa thinks life can resume as it has been for the past five years.

But there is a commotion down the street, behind her, and then someone is shouting her name. Elsa turns.

Anna stands before her, pink in the face. She has her hands on her knees as she gasps for air. Behind her is a Red Sea of disgruntled faces that have parted for her mad pursuit.

"I can be better," blurts out Anna.

"What?"

"I can change. For you. For us." Anna's mouth hangs open a little, her brow furrowed with concentration, and she adds: "You've always deserved everything, and I never saw that. I screwed up, Elsa, but this time I'm not walking away, and I'm not letting you think I want to walk away."

Elsa still hasn't moved.

"Elsa, give me another chance, and I promise you I will never leave us behind. I promise," and here Anna's breathing hitches, "that I will be that better person that you deserve."

"No."

Anna looks crushed. "No?"

"You said, once before, that you wanted someone who wouldn't change for anyone else, not even you, because they'd know you would love them as they already are."

"And someone who would do the same for me," finishes the redhead.

"You have never needed to be anyone other than yourself." Elsa's thinking of the girl who sat on the bleachers and dreamt of the future.

Anna bites her lip.

Silently, Elsa turns and leaves.

And now what?

Elsa still doesn't know, but as she walks away, she feels lighter.

Elsa's sitting on the hood of her car when Anna arrives. She takes in the view in front of them somewhat incredulously.

"You picked this place to meet? Really?"

"It's not the lake," says Elsa, gesturing to the fenced-off drainage canal, "but it's water. It'll do."

"Yeah, that makes sense." Anna hops up on the hood neatly, Elsa scooting over to make room in a completely unnecessary gesture. It should be a crime, thinks Elsa, that she looks exactly the same as she did on the bleachers years ago.

"Thanks for coming."

"Not at all. I wanted to be here."

"Okay. That's great."

Anna breaks first; Elsa's lip twitches and it sets the redhead off. She buries her face in her hands to stifle her laughter. "… God, we're such awkward dorks."

Elsa smiles, looks away. "Yeah."

Both are momentarily distracted by the swirling water. "This is hard, isn't it?" says Elsa suddenly, eyes still fixed ahead of her.

"Tell me about it. Took me years before I could figure out what I was doing, and even then I still don't," Anna shrugged to emphasize her point and added, "know exactly what I'm doing. I'm confused though," continues Anna. "What is this? What are we?"

Elsa wishes she had an answer for Anna like she always has, all these years, but she's got nothing. "I don't know."

Anna thinks back to a simpler time when she sat by the lake, acceptance letter in her pocket, gathering the courage to kiss the girl of her dreams. "I understand," she says thickly. "I-I should go..."

Anna's vision is so blurred with hot tears that she doesn't notice the gentle pressure on her chin tilting her face up until Elsa is kissing her.

"Y – Elsa, I don't…" Anna stammers, "A-are you sure? Not that I don't want this – because I do, so much – but I – we – "

Elsa smiles because she knows what she needs to say next. "I thought you already knew how I feel about you."