This story was written for ElsannaFluff May 2018 Contest with the prompt being stuck (word limit: 2000 words). Please check out ElsannaFluff on tumblr for more information on the monthly prompt contests or join us on discord at discordDOTgg/TU9NpnH (you know what to do with that DOT. Huge shoutout to ffnet for making linking things so hard).

Break the Watch

The party is a crowded mess of sweaty bodies when Elsa tries to push her way out of the living room and into somewhere where fresh air is not a precious material that's short in supply. She brushes past some burly guy in a varsity jacket and he catches her arm, he says something to her, but his breath smells of alcohol and cigarettes and garlic and she doesn't even want to focus on the words. His expression alone is enough to convey the meaning, so she just shakes her head and yanks her arm free.

He doesn't follow, thank the God he just turns his back away and doesn't follow, even if the laugh he exchanges with his buddies is aimed at her and it hurts. Her eyes scan the corridor ahead, but Punzel is nowhere to be seen, and neither is Meg, and that's about all the people she knows here. Go to the party with us, Elsa, they said just this afternoon, Punzie in her sweet voice she can never say no to and Meg with her usual aloof attitude. It will be fun, you'll see, maybe you'll hook up with some hot guy from the other school, Punzie added, to which Elsa just smiled politely. Or with a hot girl, Meg chimed in, and it was a joke for Punzie, but Meg gave Elsa that knowing look. They all laughed, but Elsa's laugh was hollow and forced, just as hollow and forced as she felt right now, left alone in a crowd of people she's never seen before in her life.

It will be fun, they said, but she was not having fun through the entire evening and she is certainly not having any fun now.

A puff of smoke blurs her vision and scratches her lungs from the inside as she passes by a group of girls dressed in black, with piercings in places Elsa never saw piercings before. One of them winks at her and suddenly Elsa's face is hotter than the tip of the cigarette the girl's smoking, and her pace quickens as much as a pace can quicken when you're carefully stepping above and between pizza boxes and red cups.

It's a journey worth a fantasy novel saga and two independent film adaptations, but finally she's at the patio door and she opens it, then enters into the night through a refreshing screen of cold air. There's considerably less people outside, but some of the craziest ones are taking a dip in the pool. It's early March, for fuck's sake, but a drunk mind does not distinguish between good and horrible, so this idea is as appealing to them as petting the cute, fluffy bunnies in a petting zoo might be for a four-year-old.

Probably with the same amount of precaution and responsibility, but those words are hard and leave a sour aftertaste in your mouth, and this is a party and people are having fun.

She makes her way over to the pool and takes her shoes off, then places them neatly one beside the other. She rolls up the legs of her jeans until they for a thick band around her knees, then slowly descends onto the stone floor and dips her feet in the water. It's as cold as she thought it would be and it makes her skin numb, and maybe, just maybe this is what all those people are looking for.

She braces herself on her elbows and just plans to enjoy the rest of the evening like this, but then she makes the horrible mistake and looks across the pool.

Your sister will be there too was not what either of her friends said, and if they had, Elsa would have never agreed to come. But there she is. Right on the other side of the patio, Anna sits in her boyfriend's lap, her eyes rolled back into her head while he sucks the skin of her neck harshly.

Elsa wants to puke, but she can't bring herself to look away.

It was less than a year ago when they were lying in Elsa's bed, their legs tangled, skin glued to skin with sweat on an exceptionally hot June afternoon. Anna was letting out quiet sighs and muffled mewls while Elsa worked her way down from her earlobe to her collarbone, licking, sucking, nibbling and blowing air on the wet trail she was leaving. Anna shuddered with every touch, thrusted her hips into Elsa's and Elsa held her there, hand steady on Anna's ass, nails digging into the soft skin in-sync with the teeth that were now bothering her nipples. Mewls turned to moans as Elsa's hand moved, slid across slick skin, leaving a red, raked trail before it lodged between Anna's legs. Hips thrusted harder to meet Elsa's open palm, a beautiful, enthralling machine that moved in the rhythm of Anna's breaths, and it went slowly at first, then faster, and faster, and faster until Anna's legs were locked tightly around Elsa's waist and she was trembling in her arms and sobbing softly from the oversaturation of pleasure.

She shakes her head and tries to clear it by looking into the deep, dark water, but the lights reflect on the surface and so does Anna's face, and her eyes look straight above her boyfriend's head at Elsa, and there is nothing but disgust in them. Elsa raises her sight to meet hers and Anna smiles sweetly and lovingly, now that she's aware Elsa sees her too, and she pries her boyfriend's face and tongue away for a split second to communicate with him. It's too loud to hear what they say but then they both look at her, and some other people that sit with them send her a curious gaze and Anna is waving.

Elsa would rather die than go, but she complies anyway, going barefoot around the pool with her shoes hanging awkwardly in her hand.

"This is my sister, Elsa," Anna says to her boyfriend as soon as Elsa's within earshot, and she bounces up to her and links her arm with hers.

The boyfriend speaks words, but Elsa can't hear them, she is not there anymore.

It was Fall last year and they were walking hand-in-hand through the local park, and Anna was telling her sweet nonsense and she was listening, following every word, catching every syllable that left those beautiful lips like precious golden nectar of the rarest plant. The words were followed by gestures, those littlest and non-important to a simple bystander. The graze of Anna's fingernails against the skin of Elsa's palm, and the warm weight against her side. Gentle caress of the back of her hand against Anna's cheek a she moved loose strands of hair from her face.

"… to come here and see if nobody died yet." Elsa has not even the slightest idea of what the guy was saying but Anna nudges her side, so she smiles and nods like an over enthusiastic bobblehead.

His face clearly shows this was not the response he was waiting for, but Elsa can't care less.

"Do you want me to drive you back home?" she turns to Anna instead and asks the make-or-break question of this guy's evening.

Anna ponders for a while–pretends to ponder, Elsa knows her too well. "In an hour or so?" she answers with a question and Elsa sighs in relief while the boyfriend probably groans inside. "But you're not drunk?"

Elsa shakes her head. It's not the answer, but a fight against the memory that threatens to break through, one she knows she's gonna lose the moment Anna's alcohol-clouded gaze settles on her at point blank.

It was Valentine's Day last year when it began. With their parents away on a cruise or whatever it was they went to, they were home alone with two bottles of wine, romantic comedies and no moral code. At first it was just little touches–Anna's head on her shoulder, her arm resting against Anna's back, Anna's hand on her thigh. Then friction came into the picture, and the more alcohol they had, the easier it was to move closer, until they melted together like the rich belgian chocolate they shared between their tongues, the taste mixing with alcohol and the bitter realization that something horrible just began.

Elsa excuses herself from the crowd, not sure how much longer she can stay in Anna's presence and pretend she's not going mad.

She makes it back to the house, content to suffocate there instead, and dashes for the bathroom. Tears burn the back of her eyes when she slams the door shut, then locks it, and prays nobody plans to bother her. She won't cry. She has cried too many times already. Instead, she grips fistfuls of her hair and pulls the skin on her head taut, until he can feel blood draining from it and the pain dies down to a dull throb.

Three months ago. This is wrong, Elsa, we can't do this. What a conversation starter. A sure way to ruin an evening, a week, month, an entire life. Please, Anna, we talked about this– She never let her finish, she was busy talking her mind out. Talking, talking, then her voice grew louder, and angrier, and towards the end she was yelling, and cursing, and she slapped Elsa so hard she left two nail scratches by her ear.

We can't do this.

This is wrong.

I don't love you. I never have.

You're my sister!

My fucking sister!

What the hell is wrong with you!?

Don't touch me! Don't come near me! Just don't even fucking look at me!

So she didn't look. She avoided her. And Anna moved on.

But she was still stuck.

She washes her face in cold water and dries it with what she hopes is a towel, it's hard to tell in the dark and she never cared about turning the light on. She gets back downstairs and the party is certainly dying, people are leaving, others are lying sleeping/unconscious/dead on the floor, couches, tables and any other available surfaces.

Anna is waiting for her by the car, and she smiles again when she sees her.

"Saying goodbyes?" she asks and Elsa shrugs, she doesn't even know where her friends are by now. She opens the passenger door making sure not to make unnecessary physical contact, and Anna wobbles drunkedly in.

Elsa goes around to her seat and patiently waits for her sister to buckle up, then starts the engine and leaves this wretched rich neighborhood.

"Thanks," is the only thing Anna says before she drifts off, and only then Elsa feels safe enough to breathe out and steal a glance at her again. Even drunk and disheveled she looks serene in the passing streetlights, a delicate shadow of smile resting on her lips.

I love you.

The same expression she would always adore in the night, while Anna was nestled into her, breathing softly and dreaming, unaware Elsa was still awake and watching her. Unaware of all the things Elsa said then, the confessions she never had the courage to say in the daylight, too scared Anna never took it as seriously as she did, even if her actions spoke volumes.

I love you. I love you. I love you, I love you, I loveyouIloveyouIloveyou–

Elsa grips the steering wheel harder and puts the gas pedal to the floor.