Starry Night ✧ Merida & Elsa

Thirteen: Miss Americana And The Heartbreak Prince

"Yes?"

"Would ye wanna go to my Aunt's diner?"

She thought about it, "We just had dinner at Casa Cooper?" 

"And now, let's have breakfast!" 

It was as if she was waiting for me to invite her all along, "That would be beautiful." 

And so, we did.

Elsa was once again two shakes of a lamb's tail away from spontaneously combusting when she once again stepped inside the restaurant.

We again ordered a full breakfast course: the pancake tower with dripping maple syrup that would almost give us a heart attack, some bacon, eggs, and sausages in the formation of a happy face, toasted butter on toasted toast, and orange juice to wash it all down. 

Watching Elsa gorge on her breakfast broke my heart even further thinking anyone could break hers too. I felt like she dropped the story of the century on me tonight. Every single detail I learned from her was enough to give me grief for two lifetimes. But even with all she's shared, she still missed out on a few crucial elements.

Crucial to me.

It was pretty much common sense, but never did she mention how she felt about everything.

She tackled everyone and their mothers' reaction and how they all felt. Don't I know it. But, what about her? Did anyone ever even bothered to ask her? Were her feelings of concern to anyone?

They were to me.

"Elsa." I gulped down the sausages that were used as eyebrows.

"Yes?" she doesn't pause from her pancake mayhem, meeting my gaze.

I popped the question, "How do ye feel?"

There goes that deafening silence once again. Crap.

The grin that was on her face seconds ago dropped drastically and dramatically. I immediately regret this decision. I should've just left well enough alone!

"C-come again?" 

"Uhm, how are you? How do you feel? About, uh..." my hands moved in chaos, hoping she'd get the jist of what I meant as I didn't want to name it, "Ye always talk about what others felt about what you do but how about you?"

She doesn't reply. Instead, she continues to munch and munch on for a few good seconds until the most horrific moment of my life occurred.

A fucking tear fell from Elsa's fucking eyes and trailed fucking down to her fucking flushed cheeks. I fucking panicked.

"Jings, crivens, help mah boab!" I KNEW THIS WAS A BAD IDEA. "I'm sorry, lass! I shouldn't have—"

NAPKINS.

WHERE ARE THE NAPKINS?

LOOK, MERIDA VAN GOGH, SHE'S CRYING AS SHE EATS.

SHE'S SIMULTANEOUSLY STRESS EATING AND CRYING HER EYES OUT.

YOU DID THAT.

YOU'RE SUCH A LOSER.

YOU DID THAT.

I MADE HER CRY.

NOW, I WANT TO CRY.

YE MANGLED FUD, YOU SHOULD BE COMFORTING HER NOT BEATING HER AT HER OWN WEEPING SESSION, YOU SELFISH DOBBER.