Chapter Text
Champagne popped, fireworks cracked, loud screams of excitement echoed throughout the large Mediterranean style-mansion in Newport Coast, California. Everyone in the house counted down the seconds until 1997 and celebrated the victory—the host’s software company had ended the year with the most fiscal prowess of any software company in the country.
Ten.
Right—The Company that Agnarr Larsen had founded and owned had hit a milestone. 10 billion dollars in sales worldwide in 1996.
Nine.
They’d opened some international subsidiaries. Most recently one in Oslo, Norway.
Eight.
Within the last month it was finally acknowledged that The Company had the first fully developed Internet Strategy of all the tech companies.
Seven.
Whatever “Internet Strategy” meant.
Six.
Agnarr Larsen had thus gone all out. He and his wife, Iduna, spent a sickeningly large sum of money on this party.
Five.
The theme—70s Disco / Studio 54 because 1997 had one number in common with that decade.
Four.
At least 35 Cirque-employed go-go dancers served drinks, danced on tables, and strutted their stuff throughout the house.
Three.
They had exactly five separate disco balls, an indoor and an outdoor dance floor, properly themed food, and an incredibly well-stocked open bar that left the guests in awe.
Two.
And in the corner sat a girl with striking red hair, alone, again… as always, sipping on some champagne she thought her parents would care she swiped from the open bar.
They didn’t.
One.
More fireworks went off, bursting into sparks of gold, blue, red, and white right on top of the hill behind the house.
The girl—Anna—didn’t look up. She remained seated on the couch, crossing and uncrossing her legs, taking sip after sip of champagne. It was damn good champagne. Despite having no actual knowledge about the quality of sparkling wine after only 14 years on this earth, she could tell this was some quality shit. Cristal. It even sounded fancy.
God was she bored.
Her blue eyes scanned the crowds. Everyone was yelling, throwing their hands in the air, hugging and kissing each other.
She had no idea where her parents were. Agnarr and Iduna Larsen. The very hosts of this party. This was their house. This was her house, too, then, she supposed. The cold walls, the empty halls, the wide-open spaces that most of the time housed one or two or three people only. It was a nice house, though.
And all of that—well, everything in her life—was owed to the success of her father’s company. The Company. She knew nothing of the specifics other than it being some kind of tech software situation that clearly allowed them such a large sum of money that they were comfortable at the very least. Comfortable was Agnarr’s favorite word to describe their unnatural and disgustingly wealthy lifestyle.
Looking around again, Anna saw no trace of them anywhere.
Well—classically her mother was nowhere to be found, blessed with the uncanny ability to seamlessly blend in with the furniture at these types of parties. Well. Actually… with Iduna, it always went one of two ways. Either 1) she hid out somewhere using her stealthy camouflage skills as the night progressed or 2) she took on the role of belle of the ball, effortlessly engaged in radiant conversations with every partygoer. The difference between those two perfectly outlined by one simple distinction—whether it was a Bad Day or a Good Day.
Today was a Bad Day. Anna could feel it. Her mother’s absence more-than confirmed that blatant fact.
But still no sign of her father.
Anna rolled her eyes and gulped down more champagne. Her stomach dropped. Worst New Year’s ever. She was always required to attend these stupid Company parties because it looked good for her dad to have such a supportive youngest daughter.
And she loved parties. But.
But she wished she had somebody, anybody even remotely close to her age to share this with.
Because even though their house was filled with people, filled with people having the time of their life, she still felt so... lonely. Maybe even the loneliest she had felt in a long time.
She knew she’d feel this way. Anna had really tried her best to preemptively remedy the situation, asking her dad if she could invite her best friend, Kristoff, to the party. But of course, Agnarr had grumbled something under his breath about how that would be a bad look.
Shaking off all of that frustration, Anna slowly rose from the couch, making her way past a few scantily clad go-go dancers, trying her best to push away the cocktail meatballs and the fondue skewers they kept trying to shove into her face.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw a flash of her father, finally, standing next to a couple of his business school buddies, all of them wearing custom tailored suits with bowties and sunglasses even though they were indoors. They carelessly swung their glasses of Cristal and laughed hearty belly laughs.
Anna thought maybe she could join this conversation. Seemed fun enough.
But when she made it close enough to hear their conversation, she stopped in her tracks. They hadn’t noticed her approaching, of course. They never did. Being invisible to her father and his cronies was one of her biggest talents.
Even still, she backtracked a bit, allowing herself to hide behind the series of potted plants that lined their living room.
“I kept telling her we already had the perfect kid—why would we risk the second one? But she didn’t buy it. She wanted Elsa to have a sibling. And look where we are now.” A series of masculine laughter—guffaws more than anything else—broke out.
Anna gulped. This wasn’t new. She’d even heard it all before. Her father’s go-to party story.
But then he said it. The punchline. Stated in such a light-hearted manner with a characteristic shake of his head. “We should’ve stopped after one.”
Anna stumbled backward. It always hit her. It always hurt her. Her fourth time hearing this dumb story and it still felt like being punched in the gut.
And yet… here she was at this party alone and bored and miserable trying to please him. Hoping maybe one day he would change this story. Maybe one day he would stop telling it altogether. Because she was here. She tried. She made the effort.
It didn’t seem like it was too much to ask. Things used to be good. They used to spend time together as a family.
Tears stung her eyes. She totally should’ve just said fuck you to her dad and gone to Kristoff’s house like she wanted.
Whatever. Right now, all she needed was an escape. Anna desperately wanted to get the hell away from him.
Thus, she took off in a jog toward the kitchen, the echoes of her father’s continued laughter taunting her remorselessly.
On the way, she caught her reflection in a golden floor length mirror. Her jog slowed to a halt.
She sighed, staring deeply at her reflection. Poofy but also flawlessly curled, her usually chest-length red hair now only fell to her shoulders. Anna gave it a quick toss, adding even more body to the curls.
She stared harder, looked closer.
Both frosted pink lips and electric blue eyeshadow brought out every single feature of her face—her piercing blue eyes, her soft yet diffuse freckles, and the eternal flush of her cheeks no doubt heightened by the Cristal. She sighed, carefully biting her lip so as to not mess up her lipstick and touched the thin silver choker around her neck. One of her Christmas gifts from Santa. From her parents, duh. She knew that. But… it still felt like it came from Santa.
Anna sighed again.
She thought she looked okay. Just okay.
Now she wished she’d worn something different. Sure, the aqua sequined dress framed her body well. The straight neckline and spaghetti straps were cute. And naturally she did love that the dress fell to her upper thighs, something she figured her parents would take issue with. But again, that was exactly the reason why she’d chosen the dress in the first place.
She wanted a response. She craved a response…
But she only looked okay.
One more sigh and she decided it was time to move on.
Thankfully it didn’t really matter how she looked while she did the thing she really wanted to do next.
Anna took one last moment to look at herself. To psych herself up for what was to come.
You got this, Anna. You’ve done this loads of times before. Tonight is no different.
Because.
There was somebody she wanted to talk to. Somebody she needed to talk to. It was a new year now. 1997. Maybe 1997 was their year, maybe in 1997 they’d be close again.
Her heart beat heavily and quickly within her chest. Faster yet when she reached the kitchen… when she picked up the clunky gray cordless phone.
She had the number memorized. Duh. Anna called her sister, Elsa, at the minimum once a day.
Elsa very rarely picked up. Elsa very rarely called her back. But every so often, like a glimmer of hope, she did.
It was like 3:06am for Elsa and Anna knew that she was probably asleep. She knew, logically, that the chances Elsa would actually answer the phone were about 0.2 out of 10, but… there was that glimmer. Because Anna needed it. Because it was a new year and…
Anna couldn’t help it as the thought crossed her mind again. It now played on repeat almost like a chant. Or… a cheer.
No.
A prayer, honestly. It was a desperate prayer.
Maybe 1997 was their year. Maybe 1997 was their year. Maybemaybemaybe.
God did she hope 1997 would be their year.
After Elsa got shipped off to boarding school in the 6th grade because of her super human intelligence level that apparently could only be properly nourished by snooty institutions on the East Coast, the two sisters had largely lost touch. Elsa was busy with academics and the consistent string of pressure her parents put on her as their successful and perfect first-born daughter.
But lucky for Anna, Elsa had a shiny new Nokia phone that she got for her 18th birthday.
Anna dialed the number and held her breath. The sounds of more fireworks and more chatter and more people being beyond obnoxious filled the background and Anna decided it best to lock herself in their massive pantry. It was quieter there. She could drown out the sounds of everybody to the point that she only heard the phone ringing, her heartbeat, and that same nervous and hopeful mantra.
Maybe 1997 was their year.
The ringing stopped cold. And then one aggressive beep later and Anna thought she might start sobbing.
She couldn’t hide the quivering in her voice. “Um, Elsa. Hi. Happy New Year!” Tears welled up in her eyes. “Um. It’s dad’s dumb disco party right now and everybody’s being so loud and boring, and I have nobody to hang out with, so I thought maybe…” Her voice cracked. “I thought maybe you’d be free, but. I guess you’re not. You’re probably, like, sleeping or something. Which makes sense, um, because. Time difference or whatever. But. I thought, maybe, since it’s New Year’s and all that you’d be free or still awake or something. Um.” Maybe 1997 was their year. A sob caught in her throat. “I miss you, Els. I really miss you. I know we don’t talk that much, and I know you have so much going on and school is stressful and I’m just your annoying little sister. But. I love you. I feel…” Anna took a deep breath in. Tears rolled at a steady pace down her cheeks. “Um. Never mind. Can you just—can you give me a call when you get this? I’d love to talk to you.” She couldn’t hold in the sobs anymore. Instead of a singular crack she broke down fully, her voice quaking with frantic cries. “I miss you, Elsa. I love you.” She had to take a minute to catch her breath. “Um—bye.”
The second Anna pressed end on the phone she collapsed onto the floor. She hadn’t bothered turning the light on in the pantry and now she was thankful for the darkness. It somehow comforted her. Like she was in an entirely different dimension. She needed that escape. Shit did she need that escape.
She didn’t know what to feel. She didn’t know how to feel. Her entire body was numb.
Why did she ever let herself get her hopes up again? It always ended the same way.
Disappointment.
This wasn’t their year. It was never going to be their year.
She was stuck in this endless cycle of loneliness and rejection and abandonment and she would never break free. Never.