Chapter Text
The next morning, Jack wakes excruciatingly early to go skiing.
He fumbles in the twisted sheets for his phone at the blaring sound of his alarm, squinting at it to read the time: six thirty. This had been the plan all along, so he’s not sure why he insisted on staying up so late last night. He and Hiccup and Merida had gotten to talking, and he really did not feel too compelled to come upstairs to bed just to be on the floor, but, well.
Jack sits up, resisting the urge to groan as he stretches his aching muscles and rubs the grit out of his eyelashes.
He moves the blankets, sheets, and pillows into a slightly neater pile before dressing for the day, layering up for the frigid temperatures they’ll likely encounter out on the slopes.
Elsa does not move in the slightest as he quietly zips up his suitcase, placing his pajamas neatly back inside. She is facing away from him, curled up tightly in the heavy blankets and hidden by pillows at her back. Jack does not want to talk to her, and berates himself for standing and staring at her. He shouldn’t miss her like this, and want her still. It’s hopeless, and now everyone thinks they’re engaged and they’re going to have to play this out for the rest of the day, no matter how much it pains them both to do so.
The wind rushing against the window does catch his attention, though. He moves over to it, to draw the blinds.
Before he can do so, he notices the extensive layer of beautiful snow covering the entire property. It is breathtaking, truly, glistening and gleaming in the diminishing moonlight. There must be about one to two feet of snow, which will be great for their skiing excursion, but…
Elsa was supposed to leave today.
Jack turns, looking at the ring on the bedside table, and then back at her, all bundled up in blankets.
There is no way she is driving home in this snow.
Jack throws a hoodie over his long-sleeved undershirt, thinking. He is not going to miss out on skiing so he can stay and talk with her, and he is not going to be the one to tell her she isn’t leaving, when he knows how badly she wants to.
She’ll be able to see the snow for herself; there is no way she would be illogical enough to attempt escaping in this weather, right?
Jack releases a breath. They are in a very special sort of mess.
When he had that ring fitted for her, he could have never imagined they would end up in these circumstances.
Though considerably less angry with her than he was last night, he is still quite frustrated, and upset.
He is not going to waste his time moping. She can’t leave anyways, so he does not have to worry about when they have their conversation, although this does pose a newer problem. Since Elsa can’t leave, she won’t be able to go home after they tell everyone the truth; ergo, making things awkward, creating tension, ruining the trip.
Will she still not want to tell them? How can she not want to?
Jack tries so hard to ignore the voice that tells him it's his fault, that reminds him of every single error he made over the course of their relationship, and friendship before that, to lead them here. He cannot listen to that voice; it won’t help them get out of this.
So Elsa will be here when he gets back.
And they can move forward from there.
Jack runs a hand through his hair, resisting the urge to look back at her again, fighting the questions occurring rapidly in his mind.
What if she does not want to tell them, now, forcing them to fake it for longer– is that what they’ll do?
At a few buzzes from his phone, he realizes he can’t worry about it now, and focuses on getting to the ski slopes just a little ways away from their cabin. He heads down the spiral staircase slowly, careful on the steps he heard creaking last night.
Hiccup, Kristoff, and Merida are already in the kitchen, pouring coffee and talking quietly.
“ ‘morning,” Jack offers, nodding in their direction.
“Morning,” Hiccup says back, pushing a cup of coffee in Jack’s direction.
Jack takes a sip; it is strong, but he’ll need it when they hit the slopes in a little while.
They aren’t really much for talking a lot this early in the morning, so they sip their coffee in companionable silence, until Eugene comes downstairs to join them, and they gather all their things to pack up in the car. Kristoff and Merida already have skiing equipment, but they’ll have to stop at a rental place first for the rest of them.
“Who’s driving?” Jack asks, finishing the last of his coffee and placing the mug in the sink.
“I’ll drive,” Kristoff offers, which makes sense, his truck is the best equipped for these conditions. Elsa won’t be able to get out of here and drive over sixty miles in her car, but Kristoff’s truck should make it the mile or so it will take to get to the rental and the slopes and back.
It is even colder outside than it was on Christmas, and Jack immediately pulls the collar of his coat up higher around his neck as they wait for Kristoff and Merida to finish scraping the snow and ice off the windows.
“It’s gonna get even colder up on the slopes,” Kristoff tells them, opening the front door.
Eugene calls shotgun before Jack can even consider the thought, and Hiccup gets in the backseat before he does while Merida waits outside, urging him to go in. He does not have the energy to argue, squeezing his long legs into the middle seat of the truck.
He looks down, and then offers a half-hearted glare at Merida. “Seriously?”
She just smirks at him.
The drive there is quiet, calm, with the hum of the radio still playing Christmas music even though it’s a few days past. Jack doesn’t really mind Christmas music, doesn’t find it as annoying as Hiccup does this time of year.
They arrive at the rental place with minimal trouble from Kristoff’s truck. Kristoff waits there to keep the truck warm while the rest of them get out and peruse the equipment. Jack feels less overwhelmed than he did the last time they went skiing, which must have been a little over two years ago now— yikes. He’s going to be a little rusty.
“You ready, Overland?” Merida juggles a helmet and poles in her arms, pushing the skiing poles over to Jack.
He nods. “Yeah, definitely.”
“You sure? It’s been, what, years?”
“Yeah, I’ll be okay.” He sets down the equipment near the check-out station, and then looks at the skis themselves, comparing them to the size of his boots. “Wait, when’s the last time you went skiing?”
“I go with my brothers every year,” she answers, and hands him a pair of skis. “Here, these will fit you fine. I’m gonna go help Hiccup and Flynn.”
“Okay,” Jack says. He isn’t nervous; he’ll get the hang of it again soon. Merida and Eugene have competitive streaks a mile wide, but he isn’t sure how Eugene will fare in these frigid temperatures; it wasn’t nearly this cold last time they went.
Jack pays to rent his equipment and then throws in a pack of gum, chews a piece while he waits for Hiccup and Eugene to pay.
“How far is it?” Eugene asks, when they’re back in the car.
Jack looks out the window, as they pass a rolling hill. Snow is still fluttering softly to the ground, not as aggressively as it was last night, but there is still a lot of it to deal with. This truck has some strong wheels.
“Like– five minutes?” Kristoff guesses, and Eugene turns up the radio.
“Can you turn this off?” Merida grumbles predictably. “It’s not Christmas anymore.”
Hiccup and Jack share a smile, like they knew she was going to say that.
“Yeah, sure, can’t go the five minutes—”
“You guys know it’s annoying–”
“Uh huh, I think you’d like it better if we played the Polar Express soundtrack,” Jack says, nudging Hiccup and laughing.
“Eugene, cue up The Polar Express soundtrack–”
“No, no–” Merida quickly cuts in, leaning over into Jack’s space, trying to push her way to the front controls of the truck, while Eugene works to cue it up on his phone.
Jack and Hiccup sing the words they do know just off-key enough to annoy her further, as Merida cups her fingers over Jack’s mouth. He yanks her hand away as soon as it's there, and he and Hiccup continue to mime dancing at her the rest of the way. After three minutes of listening to the excitable clamor of vocals and instrumental in the soundtrack, Jack feels a lot more awake, a lot happier, and a lot more prepared to go ski.
The rest of the ride passes quickly, in laughter and half-hearted singing along. Merida grows less annoyed with the songs, but more impatient to get there and ski already.
As soon as they arrive, Merida unbuckles her seatbelt and leans over Jack and the seat divider to kill the radio, glaring at he and Hiccup all the while. They pay for parking, and drive a little ways up a hill. There’s two different skiing slopes, a smaller hill for beginners, Jack guesses, and a bigger one for more advanced skiers.
He doesn’t have to guess which one Kristoff and Merida will choose– of course the rest of them have no choice but to follow.
“Ready?” Hiccup asks, as they walk up the hill to the lift.
“Yeah,” Jack responds. The others are walking a little ahead of them, and Hiccup is close enough to nudge his shoulder.
“So, you got everything sorted out with Elsa?” he asks, good-naturedly, because he can’t possibly know.
Jack studies Hiccup’s face, following Kristoff uphill, when Merida interrupts.
“What’s this about Elsa?” she asks, pausing her strides, twisting to clutch her skis in her other hand.
Eugene looks back, over his shoulder, and calls “Congratulations, by the way– I forgot if I said so, last night.”
“Thanks,” Jack says, focusing on keeping his tone light, conversational, easy.
Hiccup is waiting for an answer, but so is Merida, and he really doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know why Hiccup decided to ask this now. The snow is frustratingly difficult to walk through, and they’re almost to the lift, so Jack needs to wrap this up quickly, because he doesn’t want anyone to suspect anything.
Unless Hiccup somehow already knows.
“Nothing,” Jack directs his answer to Merida, shrugging.
“Oh, you just got engaged,” she says, emphasizing the last syllable of the word. “And suddenly that’s nothing?”
Jack sighs, as they trudge through more snow. “No, it’s not nothing. We were just talking about how hard it was to– to hide it from you guys, for so long.” He nods,
“Yeah, I bet that took a lot of guts,” she acknowledges, and turns back around. Jack is not so sure she fully believes him, but he’s glad she let it go.
Hiccup quirks an eyebrow at him, but Jack elects to ignore him for the time being, focusing solely on getting into the ski lift.
Somehow, the five of them fit, all squished into one lift; Jack is pressed between Kristoff and Merida, but at least having everyone pressed together creates warmth, because it’s freezing. In the car, it was easier to forget about it, but it has to be at most zero degrees outside, probably lower.
Jack focuses on the warmth and idle chatter of his friends around him, less on the cold and the height of the hills he’s about to ski down, unsure he is really as equipped for it as he was two years ago. They used to go more often as teens. They should make a habit of it again. Same with ice skating— he and Elsa used to ice skate a lot. Every year, for her birthday, she would invite the whole group to go skating. He remembers the early years, before he knew her as well as he does now, when she was more Anna’s sister and Punzie’s cousin than the Elsa he knows and… loves. He loves her still and he hates it; the feelings churn in his gut as he puts his skis on and tries to focus on the slopes. But now that he knows her– he can’t just forget the love, or take it back.
He thinks of all that he’ll never have with her now– the continued dating, and the hopes he had for eventual marriage, children, growing old together, all of that. But it almost hurts more knowing that he won’t go casually ice skating with her anymore, can’t call her to talk through his days or his homework as he paces his room, a pencil in his mouth that she’ll hear and good-naturedly tell him to remove. He misses that. He misses their easy friendship, the way they wordlessly understood each other, easy laughter and sidelong glances across the room, and how that morphed so naturally, as if it were the only possible conclusion, and it was.
Jack is still upset with her for the fake proposal. Of course he is, how could he not be?
He grits his teeth as he shoves his feet into his skis, watching the rest of them do the same, preparing to head down the hill.
At the same time, he mourns the real proposal they’ll never have, and the one he planned all those months ago.
He had been so stupid, to even pack that ring in the first place.
Would he go back, and take it all back?
It had bought them time, just as Elsa said.
Time to do what, though? Part of him wants to think that she is prolonging telling everybody what really happened because she regrets what she did, because she still loves him too, and doesn’t want this to be truly over. It’s already over, though, and all of this… the ring on her hand, the room they’re sharing in this luxurious cabin in the snow, is all a lie.
Eventually, everyone else will know it too.
Jack diligently attempts to focus on not falling and eating shit as he heads down the hill, albeit with some struggle. He can’t stop thinking about Elsa.
Still, the wind on his face and in his hair is exhilarating enough to keep his brain away from exploring the thoughts any further. The fact that staying upright and alive on the skis, avoiding obstacles and other distractions requires his undivided attention also helps.
As they head back up to the lift for round two, Jack catches Hiccup looking at him, trying to decipher his expression, likely wanting an answer to his earlier question that Jack thought he successfully avoided. Apparently not.
He offers Hiccup a smile. “How was it?”
Hiccup shrugs. “Think I need another go at it, to get used to it again, but it’s fun. What do you think?”
Jack nods, as Merida rushes past them, and yells something about keeping up.
Behind them, Kristoff rolls his eyes, and then keeps going.
Another round or so in, Jack feels better about his skiing skills and is further distracted from Elsa, back at the house. He could stay out here for hours, even though it is pretty damn cold.
“How many rounds do we usually ski?” Eugene asks. It’s not hard to hear the cold in his voice, though they’re still all crammed into the ski lift, so it’s a little warmer than it would be if they weren’t.
“Flynn, you’re not losing steam already are you?” Merida asks, a teasing note in her voice.
“No! It’s just— it’s cold, all right? And Rapunzel mentioned this hot chocolate spot they were considering visiting today. I don’t want to miss that.”
“Aw Eugene needs hot chocolate,” Merida continues, and Eugene rolls his eyes.
“Hey, I could go for some hot chocolate,” Hiccup agrees, looking down the slopes toward the base. “Think that place has any?”
“We just got here,” Merida complains. “Didn’t we?” She turns to Kristoff, to her left on the lift.
He nods, tilting his head a little in semi-agreement, still conceding with Eugene.
“A couple more rounds before we break, at least?” Merida asks.
“We usually do about fifteen to twenty,” Kristoff says. “But you guys can break whenever, and we can go back up later, if you want.”
“No, let’s keep going,” Jack says, wanting to stay up here.
Eventually, after another seven runs up and down the hill, they’re thoroughly exhausted and freezing cold, somehow still sweating underneath all their layers while the tips of their noses and cheeks are flushed from the cold.
Kristoff and Merida continue skiing, while Eugene goes back to the car to call Rapunzel, so Hiccup does manage to get Jack alone, despite his best attempts at avoiding him.
They wait in line for shitty, over-priced hot chocolate in the base, ordering five cups of it for everyone else when they eventually catch up.
“Something’s up with you,” Hiccup says bluntly. He’s never one for small-talk, Jack almost has to laugh.
“Nothing’s up with me,” Jack lies, even though Hiccup surely already knows, and it's pointless.
Hiccup sighs, and chooses his next words carefully. “Look— I heard you and Elsa,” he pauses when Jack stares at him, very seriously, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. “-arguing, yesterday.”
“Arguing?” Jack questions, like an idiot, because he knows damn well they were arguing, pretty loudly, and it makes sense that someone would have heard. “What did you hear? Did anyone else hear?”
“It’s okay, Jack,” Hiccup reassures him, his eyebrows drawn together, concerned. “Just–”
“No,” Jack says, more harshly than he intended. He and Elsa need to tell everyone, now. They can’t go on lying like this any longer, and they need to tell everyone before they start assuming from half-strewn together words and overheard arguments through walls. No shit people have been starting to put pieces together because they’re obviously fighting; someone has surely noticed their distance and their tense glances across the room.
“Relax,” Hiccup finishes, and then seems to realize how bad that sounded at the unimpressed, still just as grave expression on Jack’s face. “I don’t think anyone else heard anything, I was just wondering how… how everything turned out since we talked on Christmas.”
Jack thinks back, trying to remember what they’d talked about, what he had and hadn’t said. “Christmas…?”
“Yeah,” Hiccup goes on. “You asked what I’d do if Astrid was really upset with me, so– I figured something similar was going on between you and Elsa, and then I heard you guys yesterday. You seemed upset, and I guess I just wanted to know what happened?” he finishes lamely, on a question, like that’s not the entire truth either.
Jack, already sweating from skiing, feels suffocated under his heavy layers of clothes, amongst the layers of lies he and Elsa have built around themselves in the last few days.
His mouth goes dry, his palms sweaty, as he searches for words. The longer he goes without saying something, the more Hiccup catches on that something isn’t right.
He should tell him the truth, shouldn’t he? Just tell him.
“Yeah, I was– I was really nervous about… about proposing to her,” he trips over his words, biting his tongue, trying to calm himself.
Hiccup just stares at him; Jack knows he knows he’s lying.
Fuck.
Jack is saved, momentarily, by the barista behind the counter calling out their hot chocolate orders.
“Uh huh,” Hiccup concedes, balancing two hot chocolates in one hand, while Jack politely asks the barista if they have any drink carriers for the other three.
They do not, so Hiccup stands closer to the counter, while Jack balances the other drinks, willing the others to come back so he can get out of this conversation.
He doesn’t know why he doesn’t just tell him the truth– Hiccup must already know, but he and Elsa haven’t agreed on what to say, and he’s still loyal to her and still cares about her because, despite everything that happened yesterday and in the last four weeks, he still fucking loves her.
“But it all turned out okay?” Hiccup prompts, urging him to continue.
“Yep,” Jack pops the ‘p,’ on the word, and doesn’t say anything more.
Jack shuffles his feet. It’s very awkward.
“You’re lying,” Hiccup points out.
Jack wants to bang his head against the wall. “Fine. Fine.”
“So what happened?”
“Elsa and I just want to keep it between us, okay? It was heat of the moment stuff, I just— I don’t wanna dwell on it. I’m sorry you heard us arguing though, but– things are fine now, okay?”
Hiccup still looks disbelieving, but Jack needs him to just drop it already; the hot chocolate is starting to burn his hands through the cup, and he’s antsy to get back outside.
“Okay,” Hiccup replies, and takes a sip of the hot chocolate. “Shit!” he exclaims, pulling away.
Jack snickers a little, the all-too-familiar mistake of burning your tongue lightening the mood.
“The burnt the shit out of my tongue, dude, fuck,” Hiccup says, setting the hot chocolate down on the counter.
“Was it good?” Jack asks, with a shit-eating grin.
Hiccup punches him in the shoulder.
After that, Merida, Kristoff, and Eugene slowly trickle in to join them, and Kristoff even orders some food for the drive back, though they’ll likely be going to some cafes and shops around town later in the afternoon.
Jack waits a while to try his hot chocolate, they’re a little ways into the way back home when he takes his first sip.
It isn’t as good as the kind Elsa always buys, and keeps in her apartment, but it serves as a stand-in, and warms the dull ache in his soul from lying to his friends, and missing her still.
He really hopes they have a chance to talk tonight.
Maybe then they can finally come clean.
Elsa wakes much later than she usually does, cold and alone.
Her head is throbbing; she can feel her pulse beating there as she turns in bed, rubbing her fingers at her temples to try to calm the ache. She takes her phone from underneath one of the pillows.
It’s just past ten– she rarely ever sleeps so late, lest she is sick or otherwise unwell.
She guesses this is one of those cases.
She sits up, pushing her hair out of her face, combing her fingers through it idly.
Jack is no longer on the floor, the blankets pushed neatly into a pile at the side of the nightstand.
She does not wish he is still there— though they do need to talk so she can leave.
Still, she takes the time to do a condensed version of her morning routine, calming her nervous system a little, washing away the lingering effects of her tears from the night before.
A knock at the door draws her out of her thoughts, and she opens it to find Anna outside, her hair messy and unbraided, twirling a strand between her fingertips.
“Elsa!” Anna seems surprised, which makes sense, given that Elsa should have been downstairs hours ago, making something for breakfast and getting ready to leave. Granted, she would have to wait for Jack to return, wherever he is, but he knows they have to tell everyone the truth today, too, so he should be back at any moment.
Still, she should have gotten up earlier, but there’s nothing she can do about that now.
If Anna notices the pile of blankets on the floor, she does not comment on them, and Elsa guesses she must know where Jack is, since she doesn’t ask about his whereabouts either.
“Good morning,” Elsa greets, and Anna begins another sentence.
“Good morning,” she says back. “Elsa, we were just talking about bundling up and going to get something for brunch, and maybe bringing something back for the boys? There’s also a lot of cute shops to explore today, if you’d–”
“Thank you, Anna,” she cuts her sister off, not unkindly. “But you know I have to leave today.”
She sets her sights on packing up what little of her belongings she did unpack, and realizes she left the ring on the bedside table. Oh well, she’ll be telling Anna soon.
She’s ready. She has to be.
“Yeah— that’s the thing, Elsa, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”
“What?” Elsa asks, confused. “What do you mean?”
“Well…” Anna trails off, walking further into the room, toward the window. “Maybe you should just see for yourself.”
Elsa follows her sister, pulling the curtains aside and opening the blinds.
Her heart drops to her stomach as she sees the beautiful, glistening blanket of white covering the entirety of the property.
“It took a break for a little while this morning, but it’s set to start up again in a few hours, and go all throughout the night and into the next day. Temperatures are below freezing, and I— I’m not sure it’s safe for you to drive, Elsa.”
Elsa feels numb with panic. She can’t stay here, not with Jack and all of their friends, not while she lies to their faces to save them— to save them what?
The worst lie she is telling is to herself— isn’t it?
God. She needs to leave.
“It’s okay, Elsa, really,” Anna says immediately, sensing her panic. “There’s really lots to do, lots of space, we’ll leave you alone to study if that’s really what you need, but—”
“No, I—” Elsa stammers. “I have to go, I don’t–”
“Sh…” Anna takes her by the shoulders. “It’s okay.”
Elsa pulls away. “No. I’m leaving.” She pushes past her sister and goes to her suitcase, finding a sweater to pull over her pajama top. She takes her toiletries from the bathroom as Anna follows her and murmurs reassurances and warnings, but Elsa doesn’t really listen, intently focused on packing the rest of her things.
“Elsa–”
“I’m sorry,” she cuts her off, walking hurriedly down the stairs, trying desperately not to seem as panicked as she is. If she leaves now, she won’t even have to tell them at all, at least not for a while.
It hits her, all at once, that she left the ring on the bedside table.
Did Anna notice? Does she even care— is this all in her head, she’s fabricated the idea that her friends care so much about her and Jack’s relationship, all to save herself the pain that she really can’t face? The reality of what she’s done?
Then, not only has she lost Jack as a lover, and a life partner, but as a best friend, too.
Elsa drags her suitcase out to her car, having slipped on her tennis shoes and winter coat, fumbling with the keys in her pocket.
Anna follows her, shivering in her slippers and thin pajama top.
“Elsa, you can’t leave!” she shouts, standing at the top of the driveway.
Elsa walks to her car, trudging through the deep, intrusive snow, ignoring her. She puts her suitcase in the backseat, having to yank on the door to open it, as it’s nearly frozen shut. She gets into the driver’s side, putting her key into the ignition.
Before she closes the door, she stares at the miles and miles of white snow on the property, and all of the individual snowflakes covering each of her windows, the tires, and her shoes.
She examines her deep footprints in the snow, and then slams the door, starting her car.
The engine runs and runs, but the tires won’t move. The snow is too deep, and Elsa’s car was not made to run in such conditions.
Still, she sits inside, running the heat, rubbing her hands together as they turn a bright pink at the sight of the cold.
She rests her head on the steering wheel– what is she doing? How can she run away, leaving Jack here to clean up after her mess? Is that really what she is going to do?
No.
Even if the car was able to run, she wouldn’t leave. She can’t.
She can’t— and now, they have to pretend. She has to pretend. At least until the snow lets up.
They can’t just tell everyone they’ve broken up, and then live in the same house, share the same room, for another few days. It’ll be easier, more palatable, less awkward– for everyone if they pretend.
“Elsa.” Anna knocks on the window, wiping away snow with her bare hand pressed to the glass. She speaks loud enough to be heard through it, though still kind, and reassuring. “Please come back inside.”
Elsa lifts her head, staring at her sister through the window, pushing down the plethora of emotions she feels at the sight of her.
She wants to tell her, more than anything— but she can’t.
She needs to talk to Jack.
“Whatever it is, it’s going to be all right.”
Elsa opens the door, and Anna backs away just in time, as Elsa steps out.
Anna opens her arms, and Elsa hugs her, tightly, both of them trembling from the cold.
“Let’s just– go back inside, okay?”
“Yeah,” Elsa agrees, breathing out a sigh. “Okay.”
Elsa takes her suitcase out of the back and follows her sister up the snowy driveway; where there had once been a rocky gravel path there is now a pristine, white landscape of nothing but snow. Elsa was naive to think she would be able to escape in this, really. Of course she had to try.
Anna makes them coffee and tea, and the rest of the girls begin to stir, sans Merida, who Elsa learns went skiing with the boys.
“Now can you tell me what happened?”
“I just— I thought I was going home today,” Elsa explains, sipping her tea delicately. “You know I don’t like when plans change.”
“I know, but this… this was different,” Anna contemplates. They’re in the sunroom, a little ways away from Rapunzel and Astrid, making coffee in the kitchen. Elsa sits next to her sister on the plush, soft couch, trying to remain calm. “You seemed really shaken.”
Elsa is silent, for a moment.
“Something’s been going on with you, Elsa, and don’t try to say it’s nothing. In the last few weeks, and even since we came home for winter break, it’s just been getting worse. I just want to help, but I can’t do that if you won’t tell me what’s going on.” Anna stares, searching her sister’s face, cupping her coffee with both hands. She looks so open and honest, genuinely wanting to help.
Elsa wants so badly to tell her, thinking maybe she would be able to help her, and it wouldn’t be so bad to just tell one person, her sister, her first friend and her family, because Anna would not make things awkward, or let this ruin her trip. She might even know what to do.
Well, Elsa knows what to do. She needs to be honest.
She can’t. Not until Jack comes home from skiing. They said they’d decide together, and after last night… she owes him that, at least.
Elsa digs her fingernails into the palms of her hands, unable to handle the intense wave of grief that suddenly comes over her. She can hardly believe all she’s put him through in the last twenty-four hours.
He hadn’t exactly been a saint either, but lying about a proposal was putting them in a different kind of mess.
“Elsa,” Anna interrupts her thoughts, placing a hand on her sister’s arm. “Can you please tell me what you’re thinking?”
“I…” Elsa starts, looking around, anywhere but at her sister. She can’t lie to her any more than she already has. “It’s about school,” she finally says, and leaves at that.
Anna pries. “School? What happened? You’re a semester away from graduation, you have a perfect GPA, and you’ve already applied to graduate school, if that’s still what you choose to do… really, Elsa, you worry too much— you could stand to take a break from studying. That’s why I really wanted you here on this trip… Elsa?”
Graduate school. That’s it. A series of half-truths come to Elsa as if in a dream– she can’t tell her about Oxford, or about Jack, but she can make it about school. In some ways, it is about school. She’s nervous about her graduate degree, about where she’ll go.
“I know. It’s just— grad school is coming up so quickly, and I–”
“Elsa, you’re going to be fine,” Anna cuts her off, to comfort her. “Really. You’re the smartest person I know.”
“I’m just nervous, is all,” Elsa says, still not meeting Anna’s eyes. “I don’t know where I’m going yet.”
“Oh,” Anna looks down, and then back at Elsa, searching her face.“You don’t? Is it getting close to when you need to decide…?”
“Almost,” Elsa says, finally looking up. “It’s just… it’s nerve-wracking. It’s going to be an entirely new chapter of my life, and I—” I lost my best friend. I can’t take him with me.
“And you just got engaged,” Anna says. Elsa has been keeping note of her left hand, hiding it from view as well as she can, and sipping her tea with her right hand. “Yeah, that would be nerve-wracking. Two major life-changes in one year, no wonder you’re feeling stressed. I’m sorry, Elsa.”
Elsa nods, hiding her emotions, pushing down the grief and sorrow and thoughts of Jack, and what they could have had, and how badly she still wants both— her career and her love– how she wishes the two could coexist.
Maybe they could have, but she hadn’t even given him the chance. Still, Elsa has to convince herself she has made the right choice, or she will drive herself insane with this heavy grief. It is enough to handle, thinking she has done something right. She doubts, and hides that feeling too.
“It’s okay,” she shrugs, as Anna wraps her arms around her shoulders.
“I love you,” Anna offers, the only thing she can really say.
Elsa returns the sentiment, and lets herself be hugged.
They sit there a while longer, sipping their hot drinks. Anna does not pry any more, but accepts this as the answer for Elsa’s abnormal behavior. It makes enough sense to satisfy her, and Elsa does not have to explain herself to anyone else. She will only have to talk to Jack, later, and devise a new plan for what they will say and when they will say it.
After they finish their tea, and reconcile with the other girls in the kitchen, they split ways to get all dressed and ready for the day, with plans to bundle up and wait for the boys to return before they venture off into town. It’s not but a half mile away, but none of the other cars are equipped to handle the snow the way Kristoff’s truck is, so they’re forced to wait.
Anna puts on a Christmas movie, The Holiday, Elsa thinks it is called, an alleged quintessential romantic comedy that both Anna and Rapunzel adore. Astrid is making something for brunch in the other room, and Elsa thinks to join her, but does not really feel like talking at the moment, so she sticks with the movie.
The boys and Merida return just at the movie’s end, and Elsa almost wishes she’d been paying attention because Anna looks so enthralled. Almost.
“How was skiing?” Anna rushes into the kitchen to greet Kristoff, movie forgotten.
Elsa stands, as Eugene reconnects with Rapunzel, and Hiccup with Astrid. Merida has gone off into her room, so Elsa thinks she should find Jack, though she doubts they’ll have time for any meaningful conversation before venturing into town.
“Hey,” he greets her, toeing off his shoes, removing his coat and other winter items.
He looks warm, his cheeks and nose flushed pink from the cold, but his hair is slightly damp from sweat. He takes off his sweatshirt, and she averts her eyes at the small strip of skin revealed as his undershirt rides up. She’s seen much more of him, so she does not know why she looks away now. It feels invasive, somehow.
“Hi,” she says. “How was skiing?” she asks, hoping her voice sounds normal, hoping she sounds interested, hoping for some semblance of the companionship she fears they have lost forever.
“It was good,” he answers, brief and cold. He pulls at his sleeves, covering his hands. They look as dry as they did the day before, and she bets being out in the frigid temperatures for so long hadn’t helped much. There’s nothing she can do but watch. “I assume you saw the snow?”
“Yes.” She knows she isn’t going home, and so does he. “Apparently we’re going into town?”
“Ah-huh,” he responds. “That’s the plan.”
She hates how stiff and awkward they are— this isn’t them. Her skin crawls, she resists the urge to pull at her clothes the same way he is, and sees that he is fighting his lip-biting habit.
“I suppose I should let you get ready then,” Elsa says, and backs away.
He stands there in the doorway a little longer, just looking at her.
Elsa almost looks behind her, to see what he is staring at, but Jack walks over to her, staring very obviously at her left hand.
“You’re not wearing the ring. Did you tell–”
“No,” she says, keeping her voice down. “It’s on the bedside table. I didn’t tell anyone.” Jack looks concerned and relieved all at once, his shoulders relaxed, but his eyebrows still furrowed. “Did you?”
“No, no—” he emphasizes. “Of course not.”
“Okay.”
“I’m going to go get ready now.”
“Of course, sorry.” Elsa steps aside, as he walks past her and into the other room. The others are chatting away in the kitchen.
Jack looks down, halfway up the stairs, as if he expected her to follow him, but she doesn’t. They cannot have this conversation now. They need to remain calm, and keep up some semblance of normalcy as they head out with the rest of the group.
When they get back from the shops, they’ll talk. They’ll figure out what to do. It just might be a few days before then… Elsa hopes Jack agrees with her necessary yet agonizing decision to wait.
He seems calmer than last night, at least, but then again, so is she.
Everyone gets ready to go, and they all pile into Kristoff’s truck, discovering that there are five seats, and nine people attempting to fit. Everyone has to pair up and begrudgingly share seats for the barely three minute drive there.
Hence how Elsa ends up sitting on top of Jack instead of next to him, Anna squished in next to her, pressed body to body and body to window.
Elsa put on the ring again before they left, and it sits heavily now on her finger as she fiddles with her hands, not knowing where to put her arms, too close to both Jack and Anna to have any choice in the matter.
What would be a two minute drive stretches into five due to the snow and sleet still heavy on the ground, and the time feels even longer with every inch of her pressed against Jack. She can feel him breathing, can make out the cadence of his heartbeat where her head is close to his chest. He isn’t looking at her, a fact she is grateful for, but she is still distinctly, painfully aware of every point of contact between them. She hates it, and simultaneously hates how badly she’ll miss it once it’s gone.
Luckily, their large winter coats create some distance between them, so it isn’t entirely unbearable, though still gravely uncomfortable.
Elsa does not acknowledge the traitorous part of her that misses his touch, as they gather their things and exit the car. She pushes it down, and as they walk toward one of the warm cafes in town, she wills herself not to miss him again.
Jack walks in front of her, following Eugene and Rapunzel’s lead, making conversation with them about something that she doesn’t listen to. Instead, she focuses her eyes on the quaint, tourist-y town that surrounds them, and the beautiful blanket of snow covering it. Now that she isn’t in such a rush to escape it, she can appreciate the true beauty of the winter white as it glistens atop everything and continues to fall. No two snowflakes are truly alike– she and Anna had studied that one winter day in their childhood, staying out in the snow for hours until their noses were beet red and their fingertips nearly frozen.
The hot chocolate they drank that day was delicious, as well. She wonders if this shop will live up to their parents’ recipe, but does not bring such things up to Anna, who is saying something to Merida now, slightly to her right. The group of them stand out in a colorful array of warm, winter-coat fabric and hats and mittens in the midst of the bright white snow. Elsa takes her usual place amongst the group as a quiet observer while they enter one of the first shops on the row, filled to the brim with winter gear, trinkets, and souvenirs.
“Oh, Elsa, isn’t this so sweet?” Anna holds up what looks to be a delicate, hand-painted ornament.
Elsa nods, taking it from her. “It is very pretty,” she acknowledges, and hands it back. She isn’t always one for needless shopping, often only indulging when she truly needs new clothes or shoes, but she can appreciate Anna’s love for souvenirs.
“It would make a good wedding gift,” Anna says, and puts it back.
Elsa glances at Jack. He is expressionless, maybe pretending he hadn’t heard her.
So, Elsa simply shrugs, and smiles. “Maybe it would.”
“Well, you know, you’re going to need ornaments for your own tree one day, though maybe mother and father would let go of some of their old ones…” she trails off, examining another winter trinket.
“Maybe.”
Anna wanders off to another section of the store; Elsa hangs back, with Jack.
“We have to tell them,” he says. Nobody else is in earshot, but a jolt of panic still runs through her as he speaks.
She looks up at him, with the same reason why they can’t– and another, buried deep inside.
“Elsa,” the way he says her name sends shivers down her spine; pressured, intense, meaningful. She hates it, wants him to take it back and say it again all at once.
“I can’t.” It’s all she says, and suddenly Anna is back, with Astrid holding more trinkets and sweets. Jack finds something else to busy himself with in the shop, and Elsa is grateful.
She spends the rest of the day trying to convince herself that she was right about him; his forgetfulness, his recklessness, his bad habits, but his good qualities outshine those in this light, in this quaint little town with all of their friends. Elsa forgets momentarily the vivid pain of their anniversary and the subsequent breakup thereafter and watches Jack talk, and smile, and make others laugh like there’s nothing else he can do. When Jack laughs, it doesn’t just show on his face, it appears in his very being, the set of his shoulders, the enthusiasm in his gestures, and the crinkles in the corners of his eyes.
She has to look away.
Still, for the rest of the time spent out in town, they are forced to stick close to each other's sides, so as not to arouse any suspicion.
When Anna discovers an ice skating rink and suggests they go skating, Elsa’s heart sinks. She and Jack used to skate together. They went on their one-year anniversary, and had been attempting to plan another excursion for their second, before she ended it.
Watching Jack skate has always been mesmerizing; he’s just that good at it.
Elsa does not want to skate with him, or skate at all. She wants to go back to the cabin, or better yet, go home.
Instead, they purchase rental skates and an hour out on the ice. Anna takes her hand and drags her out there, a bit faster than she would usually start, but she keeps up well, and watches Jack skate ahead of them. She’ll have to catch up with him eventually, she knows.
It’s just an hour. An hour. And then they’ll talk. A few days at most, and then she’ll be home.
Jack is competent at most outdoor activities; he ran track in high school and grew up throwing around footballs and baseballs with his younger cousins, but he has always excelled at ice skating.
He doesn’t know why, never played hockey or anything, just whenever he went with Emily and their cousins or all of his friends, he skated circles around them, and enjoyed it too.
He and Elsa enjoyed skating together, but he skates ahead of her now, relishing in the cool air on his face and the smooth gliding of the ice under his skates.
Jack is compulsive by nature, and competitive by choice, so when Merida challenges both he and Elsa to race around the ice– of course he can’t say no.
Having not skated in a while, he is a little rusty at first, but it all comes flooding back naturally– his balance, the slight push of the blade against the ice, how hard and far he has to push to gain speed. He spares a glance at Elsa– she seems to be getting the hang of it again, but she isn’t quite caught up with him yet.
He is not so sure she wants to be. Their brief conversation in the foyer did not exactly lead him to think that she feels any better than she did yesterday, and he takes a wild guess that she still does not want to tell everybody what happened.
There’s two days until New Year’s Eve. Two days until they go home, and only two weeks before they go back to college, and he’ll have to adjust to a whole new semester without her.
She looks tired, though she’s smiling delicately at Anna, her smile is exactly that; delicate, breakable. He wants to help her still, wants to fix it, but is sure she will not let him.
A gaping hole in his heart aches as he watches her, and Merida rushes past him in a blur of black winter coat and wild red hair.
“Come on, Jack, keep up!”
“I’m trying!” he yells back, pushing harder against the ice. “Elsa?” he tries, pushing past the anger, sadness, and grief that still infects him, trying on again the beautiful friendship they once had, wondering briefly if they will ever have such a thing again. “You ready?”
She looks bewildered, likely at his blatant change in tone since the last time they spoke, but they are in front of everyone else again, and if they have to lie, he might as well try to connect it to something true.
They both love to skate, and they once were the best of friends.
Elsa cocks her head, her beautiful blonde hair falling in waves down her shoulders as she does. He tries to erase the thought; her beauty just makes it hurt worse, especially when he was as upset with her as he was last night.
Through all the pain and hurt, he just wants to forget, and have fun. Even if it’s just for the sake of the others, that’s what she is trying to do.
“For what?” she asks.
“To race?” he says, like it’s obvious.
There’s a flicker of something in her eyes– remembrance, maybe. He sees a melancholy nostalgia behind her eyes before her customary shield returns, and he can no longer read what she’s feeling. Something else becomes clear, however.
She agrees.
Soon they’re skating far, past Anna and Merida, around in circles like they used to. The ice is smooth and moves easily underneath their skates. If he squints, he can just pretend that it’s a year ago and nothing bad ever happened to them. He turns backward on the ice, and Elsa smiles at him from across the rink, genuinely smiles. At some point, she even takes his hand, and before he can utter a word, Rapunzel shouts words of encouragement from behind them, and snaps a picture of the “soon to be weds.” Elsa immediately drops his hand after that.
Of course. She’s always one step ahead. He used to love that about her. He still loves her. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to erase it. Years will pass, he will grow and change and graduate and move away, but he will always love Elsa.
He skates faster, away from her, and she follows, attempting to keep pace and keep up appearances. After all, they are supposed to be engaged, aren’t they?
But he’s faster and she knows it, eventually slowing to a more reasonable pace, while Jack keeps going, trying to run from his inescapable feelings for her. Why did he have to bring that ring with him? Why couldn’t he have left Hiccup’s an hour earlier on their anniversary? Would that have changed anything, at all?
The smiles and laughter of the previous moment are forgotten; all he can think about is how sick he feels seeing his grandmother’s ring on her finger. He should feel nauseous with excitement, and joy, but all he feels is panic, and an everlasting regret.
He wishes she would just come clean. He wants her to come clean.
He passes the entrance point again, skating past Hiccup and Astrid who are leisurely chatting, practicing turns.
Then, as he turns the corner, Merida whirls by; all of a sudden he isn’t quite as aware of where he’s going as he was before. So, he’s trying to stop but the momentum of his skates on the ice won’t let him, and by the time he realizes his speed has gotten so far away from him he’s just off-balance enough that when he tries to stop, his skates catch the ice too fast and throw him, far into the wall at the end of the rink.
Fuck, that was stupid. His hands and head and the backs of his legs ache as they connect with the cold frost underneath him. He immediately pushes up on his forearms, trying to get up.
“Jack?” Elsa.
She saw all of that— he has to laugh, he really made a fool of himself, still doesn’t know why he cares so badly what she thinks of him, but he is supposed to be good at this. They both are.
“Jack, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he mutters, seeing her, offering him her hand.
He takes it; her small hand fits perfectly in his. Her grip is firm, but apparently not sturdy enough because her hand slips a little as he pulls himself up. His skates skid on the ice, and she, likely unprepared for the addition of his weight, slides a bit as well. He pulls harder, trying to get up, which only causes her to slip and fall… right on top of him.
“Sorry, sorry–” he manages, immediately. His words are choppy. His heart is in his throat all of a sudden; he does not know when it got there.
“It’s okay,” she says, her voice a little above a whisper.
Jack pushes himself up, she’s lying directly on his chest, her arms braced on either side of him, on the ice. She slips a little, pulling away.
He wonders if her heart is beating as fast as his. He can see their breath mingling in the cold air and thinks of all the other times they’ve ended up like this; intertwined.
“Awww look at you two love birds,” Astrid skates over, flanked by Hiccup and Merida.
Jack squints up at them, as Elsa further tries to distance herself from him, continuing to slip on the ice. His hands have somehow found her waist, and in his haste to remove them, he almost lands his fingers underneath one of Hiccup’s skates. That could have been a disaster.
“Aw, who fell first?” Merida asks.
“Me,” Jack says, to save Elsa from any more talking. “Sorry Elsa,” he murmurs, in what he hopes was a quiet tone. She whispers another assurance to him, but then Rapunzel and Eugene are skating over, and Punzie tells them to smile, flashing her digital camera in their face. He hopes he doesn’t look as pained as he feels, though Elsa’s surely wasn’t a genuine smile.
Eventually, they find their footing again, but Jack doesn’t feel much like skating anymore, not after remembering how lovely it is to just be close to her. They used to touch all the time, though Elsa typically wasn’t as casual with her touches as he was, she made an exception for him. She made many exceptions for him. Maybe she used them all up.
Jack’s heart twists and turns as he skates off the ice, finding somewhere to sit, and removing his skates. He watches her do more laps out on the ice, this time keeping a smooth pace with Anna, and Kristoff.
Hiccup attempts to go after him, but Jack reassures him that he’s fine, really, he just needs to get a drink of water, just needs to go to the bathroom, just wants to check out the gift shop.
He does end up checking out the gift shop for a short while before the group gathers their items to leave. He finds a beautiful snow globe, with two figures dressed in blue and white skating around a rink. He picks it up and shakes it, watching the false snowflakes fall lightly down the glass, disturbed through the water-like substance inside.
Maybe in another life.
When he reunites with the group, he feels her absence more than ever. His anger and sadness blend into one fatal cocktail of numbing grief, and the lies he continues to tell seem to crack and crumble at the edges. His smiles are not wide enough; his answers are not fast enough. He’s not talking enough, he isn’t looking at her correctly, in the right way or in the right light, and surely they are going to catch on.
Through the numbness, he is nervous, but nobody seems to notice anything.
He and Elsa still do not get a single chance to talk, and after they return to the cabin for a late dinner and drinks, she excuses herself to bed within the hour.
Instead of following her, though they badly need to decide on a truth to share with the group and he’s exhausted from the late night and early morning, he stays up well into the night drinking beer after beer with Hiccup, Kristoff, and Eugene. He almost convinces himself to just stay out there on the couch with them all night, but he knows he has to go back to their room at some point, on the third floor, all so he can painfully pretend to be with Elsa.
The floor is as uncomfortable as it was yesterday, and he takes his time spreading out the blankets and pillows, unworried about the noise. If she is going to make him stay down here and tell laborious lies about their lack of relationship, then she can deal with the rustling of blankets for a few moments.
It’s silent, in the room. He wonders if she is awake, but has neither the bravery nor the energy to find out.
The moon stares through the window, as Jack closes his eyes.
Elsa has not slept well in well over four weeks at this point. She has trouble getting there in the first place, and then staying asleep once she’s finally found it. Often, she wakes with the sun without rhyme or reason, and has experienced the deepest frustrations of her ever-present insomnia in the last month. It has not been this bad since she was a very young child, wandering the house alone at night, spending lots of time with her books and stuffed animals, familiarizing herself intimately with all of the nooks and crannies of the house where she grew up.
She cannot quite place what woke her, as disoriented and frustrated as she is, having been ripped far too early from the vestiges of sleep.
The heater kicked in a while ago and is steadily whirring in the background while the wind whips occasionally at the window. The house creaks, shifting every now and then, and if she strains her ears, she can hear the faucet dripping in the bathroom.
The moon shines bright, white light into the room from the window, and Jack is snoring, gently but audibly, adding to the cacophony of miniscule sounds and sensory input that infiltrate the quiet of the night. It shouldn’t bother her, anyone else could ignore it, but somehow it’s just enough combined with everything else she sees and hears and feels, to push her over the edge and out of bed.
Jack doesn’t stir in the slightest as she pushes off the blankets; the rhythm of his breathing doesn’t change as her bare feet make contact with the cold wooden floor.
She walks carefully and quietly to the door, cracking it just slightly so the light of the hall doesn’t hit his face. She’ll just get a glass of water and then go back upstairs. Maybe stretching her legs will help calm her down, make the noises and thoughts less persistent, or maybe by some miracle there’s a lone pair of unused earplugs somewhere in the cabin, but that is most definitely wishful thinking.
Elsa does not expect to see anyone else up at this hour, and startles, tripping into the kitchen when she sees Hiccup standing there with a bowl of dry cereal and a glass of milk.
She doesn’t realize just how badly he scared her, that her heart is racing and she’s gripping the countertop like a lifeline until he looks up, obviously very confused.
“Elsa?”
“Hi,” she says, quickly, awkwardly. She should go back upstairs. This is weird, he is definitely going to figure out something is wrong and then what is she going to tell Jack? She needs to go back upstairs.
“Is everything okay…?” he asks, prompting her to say more.
“Yes,” she answers, just as quickly. For some reason, her feet aren’t leaving the floor, and she isn’t getting her glass of water. She’s still talking to him.
“Can’t sleep?” he prods.
She nods. “Jack snores,” she says, a weak excuse and meager explanation as to why she’s up so late. The real reason also has to do with Jack, but this is more palatable, she supposes.
Hiccup laughs good-naturedly, with a lazy nod. “A little bit,” he acknowledges. “I guess you’ll have to get used to it.” He nods towards her left hand, raising an eyebrow when he doesn’t find the ring.
“I took it off,” she explains. “For bed. Just came to get a glass of water. I thought it would help.”
Elsa finally steps further into the kitchen, opening and closing a couple of cabinets until she finds a glass. She goes to the fridge and fills it, listening to the water fill the glass and Hiccup quietly crunching on his cereal.
She chokes a little on her water when he speaks again.
“Are you sure everything’s okay?”
After she finishes coughing, she makes eye contact with him, and she knows she can’t lie again.
“I guess I’m just… I didn’t expect…”
“Was it the proposal?” he asks.
She stares at him a moment, in the dim light of the kitchen. Though Hiccup was Jack’s best friend first, and always, Elsa had formed a wonderful friendship with both he and Astrid over the years. Yet another thing she’d miss abroad, and she so badly hated lying to them.
“I suppose I didn’t expect it so soon. It…” she fishes for words. Her brain feels like mush, and she’s so very tired. “It wasn’t… the exact plan.”
Hiccup nods, putting down his cereal. “Yeah, I understand that.” He wipes his mouth, taking a moment to think. “I guess… sometimes things don’t always go as planned, but… he loves you, Elsa. It’ll all work out.”
Tears fill her eyes, and she blinks them back. He sounds so sure of that, as if it’s a fact— he loves you. Does he, still? Will she ever know?
“I know it may seem sooner than you thought, and hey— I get it. Me and Astrid have talked about marriage before. Like, we know it’s gonna be us, me and her. But I also know she doesn’t want to feel rushed, and… I don’t know, we like being ourselves just as much as we like being us together, y’know?”
Elsa nods. He’s rambling a little, but she doesn’t really mind.
“I don’t know, did that make sense?” He runs a hand through his hair, looking at the clock. “Jeez, it’s almost four.”
“No, no, it made sense,” she says, choking back her emotion. “Thank you.” She takes another sip of her water, and turns, about to go to bed, but something makes her stay.
“What about time?” she asks. Astrid and Hiccup’s relationship would occasionally mirror her and Jack’s though she rarely went to anyone aside from Anna for advice (and even then, she sparsely spoke about her relationship). “Do you think time… distance, can make love thin out?”
Somehow, in the dead of night, she feels safe enough to ask this. Somehow, she trusts Hiccup, thinks he might have a sensible answer.
“I don’t think so,” Hiccup answers thoughtfully, washing his bowl in the sink now. “Not even distance. That’s how it feels with Astrid, at least, but to be fair… we haven’t spent a lot of time apart. I think it would hurt a lot, but… I’d understand.” At that, he shrugs, and puts the bowl and spoon on a rack to dry. “Why, just the… potential long engagement?”
“Yeah, I guess that’s it.” She shrugs lamely, and drinks the last of her water.
“Either way. It’s gonna be all right.” He looks at her, and she nods, even if she doesn’t believe him.
“Thank you.”
He nods, and then stifles a yawn, looking again at the clock. “I don’t know if that helped, but we should probably get back to bed.”
“Yeah,” she says, staring at the empty water cup.
Hiccup moves past her, waving goodnight. “I hope you feel better, and get some rest. Another long day tomorrow.”
That makes her smile, albeit weakly, because despite all arguments and misunderstandings and lies and grief, exploring the town, at least with Anna, was fun.
“Yeah. Goodnight, Hiccup.”
“ ‘night, Elsa.” He walks upstairs, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
She gets a second glass of water, washing the tears that plagued her just minutes ago down her throat with it. Finally, she takes it back up to the third floor bedroom she shares with Jack, calmer after her conversation with Hiccup, more exhausted and ready for bed.
It still hurts seeing Jack on the floor, and though he must be uncomfortable, he doesn’t look it, sleeping just as soundly as before.
Speaking with Hiccup should not have comforted her so much, really. Everything is still a mess, she and Jack are still broken up and fake engaged and he’s still sleeping prettily in a pile of blankets on the floor. Her heart still hurts to look at him.
She wants so badly to believe Hiccup— that everything will be all right.
She’ll talk to Jack and they’ll come clean. Everyone will understand. She’ll go away to grad school and she won’t miss him in the slightest, she’ll graduate top of her class and she won’t be lonely. She’ll be happy.
She knows that it’s a lie.
Her life won’t ever be the same without him.
Jack is curled on his side, facing her, with his arms open. Almost like she is meant to be laying there.
She can’t look at him anymore; she won’t.
Somehow, she’ll get through this. She needs to believe that.
The sounds don’t bother her as much as they did before she went downstairs, and the moon is no longer as high in the sky. It is only through this, and the hope for a productive conversation tomorrow, a plan to come clean, and to let this weight leave her shoulders, that she closes her eyes. Only then will she be free to truly grieve him. After this, she can allow herself to, at least.
Just after four thirty five in the morning, Elsa falls asleep.