#flotsamxelsa

Elsa said whenever it was convenient for Flotsam and he was a handle his business and get it done guy. So, it happened rather quickly. 

The day came that Flotsam drove to Elsa’s building to pick her up and take her to the bakery, checking his footwork, making sure they were there first, and of course he had Thomas in the car. Did he tell he was bringing him? Nope. But, he didn’t think it was that important. Flotsam was going to do his job and follow through on his word. He texted her from the car. 

Flotsam: I’m here

He looked to Thomas after sending the text. “Well, here goes nothing.” Then he turned on music from his bluetooth, a playlist of all Cure and Offspring just because. He gave him a little smirk as the music came on. 

@twisted-disney

A frozen cube appeared in the exact spot where a picnic had gone on some time earlier. Of course, in this place many picnics had taken place, but there had been one special one in particular, and this cube might have some significance to a member of the party. At least, Elsa had hoped that Flotsam might remember the spot and see this as being something for him. It wasn’t everyday that a letter, without a name on it, was frozen in a cube of pure ice and placed on the grass in a part in New Orleans, while everything else around matched warmth and not Winter. The ice was crystal clear, extremely cold to the touch and entirely unmelting no matter how much sunshine beamed down upon it.

Rumors went on about the cube, some even tried to remove it but it stuck, having a magic of it’s own. Elsa was sure that Flotsam would know how to melt it down and get to the letter that was inside, sealed in a plastic bag so as not to be affected by water if it were to melt in the swamps.

Inside was Elsa’s curly, feminine hand writing, clearly practiced over time for she had so much of it. The first letters of sentences were much more ornate than the tiny, clear handwriting of the proceeding letters.

Flotsam,

I can’t claim that I have been wrong many times in my life, even though I wish I could say that. Most of my decisions were made for me over the years. I wasn’t lucky enough to have a teenage rebellion phase, and the closest thing that I had to that was at the times when I had been with you. My parents wouldn’t have approved, nor would my appointed guardians once they had passed away. I didn’t realize how satisfying it could be, looking back on that. I don’t think you would have approved of them much either.

But the thing in my life that I feel I did the most wrong was feel that if I had absolutely nothing to lose, nothing could hurt me and I would be able to get through my life just fine. Exist from day to day, leave no traces, have no affection for anyone or anything. It had worked for a while, and then it more so became habit and I began to feel afraid of change. That having anything to lose would be my downfall in the end and ...

I realize now that I don’t have enough of a life to have a downfall.

You told me when we last spoke that no one can make my decisions for me, not you, and that I cannot hide behind excuses of other people anymore. That struck me hard, in a way that only your words have been able to. You’re entirely right and it’s high time that I start owning up to the things that I have done. This is my chance to swim rather than drown, in a manner of speaking. I did choose to leave, I did choose isolation over company, fear over family, minimalism over heart. I will never be able to cut off every tie that I have with the person that I used to be but I am ready to sever at least one of them right now.

Flotsam, I would like to invite you over for a drink at my apartment. Not in alcoholic sense of the word, but if you do decide to bring something with you, I can provide coffee and you can provide Bailey’s. Consider this to be like how we had reconnected. Instead of a fast food restaurant, I want to settle this like a thunderstorm. Let the clouds go over and the rain pound down all at once, so that I may feel like the world does after a storm. Re-energized.

I cease to be a surrogate for misery from this day forward.

Of course, you do not need to accept this. But I am at my apartment everyday after three pm. The buzzer number is 302.

Annnnnd... 

He was really fucking doing this. He said his laters to the fam and drove out to meet Elsa in front of her building which he knew was compromised somehow even if he didn’t know how after seeing the Munro Files. He wasn’t sure it meant anything at all, but it weighed on his mind. That lingered in the back while in the forefront was whether he was going to end up in an ice cube and have to melt himself out of it today or not. He knew her control is amazing in comparison to what it used to be, but she also knew to not stress herself out. He was certain that was why she avoided whatever got her anxiety up. He reminded himself that if it didn’t work out any of the kids could drive her. Maybe she’d become a race car driver. Who knew anymore? 

He was glad to finally get some time alone with her though. It always felt like they were avoiding other in the house since the Tremaines. There was no weirdness. But, he noticed she’d leave the room when he walked in, things like that. She was always so damn helpful and was there when it counted, but there was still that. So, it did make it uncomfortable she was taking rides from his partner and spending so much alone time with him when she had a tendency to walk off when he was around. He wasn’t even mad, but he felt it. She never avoided if directly spoken to. She’d always answer texts and phone calls. They worked well together in a co-parenting way when River was in trouble and ever since. He wasn’t sure what would make that last layer of weirdness between them go away, but he wished it would. He wished he knew how to make her seem happier. He supposed if he had a wish left after all the ones he’d use on Thomas it would be that. He’d wish for Elsa to be happier even if somewhere inside he knew that’s just how she was and it she wasn’t necessarily unhappy.

@orleans-jester​

Flotsam stopped his truck in front of Elsa’s motel. He had a back cab full of beer and a heavy heart ready to drown it with his buddy. 

Something stopped him when he saw that place. 

If Dale wasn’t being a little shit and rebelling against his mother’s school then Flotsam would be alone most of his days again. Jetsam might not have been a socialite, but he was hardly a home body.  He was a little monster that never ran out of energy. When they were together Flotsam was usually extending most of his just to wear Jetsam out. He’d feel safer when Jetsam was crashed out. Damage control seemed to be his only duty anymore until Dale came back home. But, Dale being the only one home only reinforced it in Flotsam’s mind how miserable his life really was. 

Flotsam rarely did anything without being fully committed to the act. He never moved unless he meant it. He never spoke unless he intended follow through. But, he balked at the door and stepped away after knocking and almost ran off.