Invisible Strings

Chapter 8: Arms to Fall Into

But her blush wouldn't fade.

Not with the image still alive in her mind. The curve of skin at Isadora's back, the slip of lace beneath her shirt. It clung to her, burned behind her eyes, filling her with an ache she didn't understand and wasn't sure she wanted to.

She bent lower over her notebook, desperate to look occupied.

"Why's she all red?" a boy whispered beside her, not nearly quiet enough.

A ripple of muffled laughter spread across a couple of desks. Someone else snorted. "Bet the lesbian's got a crush on her teacher."

The words landed like a stone in Hannah's stomach. She stiffened, wishing her chair would just swallow her whole or something would just kill her at this point. The heat in her face wasn't embarrassment anymore... it was fire, humiliation licking at her throat. Her outline flickered, wanting to vanish, but she knew that would just make the teasing much worse.

Isadora's head lifted sharply, eyes narrowing at the sound. Her pulse kicked hard against her ribs. The insult itself made her blood run hot, but worse was the sudden flash of panic in her chest. Was it obvious? Could they see what even she barely allowed herself to think?

"Enough," she said firmly, her tone carrying through the room. The class quieted... momentarily.

Then, under the hush, another voice slipped through, just a cruel little murmur behind Hannah's back. "Lesbian." Chuckles quietly emerging again from the students, making Hannah just vanish out of humiliation now.

It snapped something.

"That's it." Isadora's voice rang sharper than she intended, sharper than it ever had in this classroom. "Out. Now." She yelled, her voice almost cracking.

The boy blinked at her, startled, before scoffing and dragging himself up from his chair. A nervous silence fell, broken only by his muttering retreat as he left the room.

Isadora stood frozen for a moment, her chest rising and falling a little too fast. Her hand trying to settle her chest. She knew she'd let too much show... too much heat, too much protectiveness, but she couldn't take it back. Not when she'd seen Hannah's shoulders curl inward like that. How she could physically see Hannah's throat tighten. 

Her gaze flicked toward Hannah. Watching the last trace of her vanish and her pen hover above her notebook, trembling in the air.

Isadora swallowed hard, forcing her voice back into control. "The rest of you, back to your work."

The room obeyed, quiet and subdued now, though tension lingered like static in the air.

And Hannah... Hannah kept her head down, but her blush stayed, her thoughts louder than ever.

The bell rang, sharp and jarring.

Chairs scraped against the floor, students gathering their bags quicker than usual, the tension in the room urging them out faster than the dismissal itself. Their laughter had evaporated, leaving only the whisper of shoes against tile as the room emptied.

Hannah didn't move. Couldn't. Her pen was still clenched in her hand. She reappeared slowly as the last student left, but still refused to look up at Isadora. Her stomach twisted, heat flooding her face, shame choking her until she thought she might actually be sick.

Isadora watched the last student slip out, her jaw tight, then turned the key in the lock with a sharp click. The quiet hit heavy.

"Hannah?" she asked softly.

She didn't answer. Her body curled tighter, her breaths short and shallow. And then, suddenly, she lurched forward, one hand flying to her mouth.

"Oh, sweetheart..." Isadora moved fast, snatching the small trash can from beside her desk and crouching down next to Hannah. She slid it in front of her just in time, her other hand already moving to gather Hannah's hair back, holding it gently away from her face.

Hannah trembled, the humiliation almost worse than the nausea, but the steady hand at her back grounded her. Isadora's touch was firm but careful, fingertips brushing against her shoulder like an anchor.

"Breathe," Isadora murmured, low and steady, her voice stripped of all the sharpness she'd used moments ago. "Just breathe, darling. You're okay."

The word "darling" slipped out before she could stop it, but she didn't take it back. Not now.

Hannah squeezed her eyes shut, breath shuddering, tears pricking at the corners as her body slowly eased from its panic.

Isadora stayed right there, her knees pressed to the floor, one hand holding Hannah's hair, the other a quiet presence against her back.

Hannah's breathing stuttered, shallow and uneven, the trash can still between them though she hadn't needed it. Her hands shook as she clutched at her knees, trying to make herself smaller, as if she could fold in enough, the world might stop pressing down on her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered hoarsely, her voice raw. "I'm sorry, I don't... I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Hey," Isadora soothed, her hand pressing gently between Hannah's shoulder blades. "There's nothing wrong with you. Don't say that." She said softly as she pushed the trash can away, moving closer.

But Hannah shook her head, tears spilling over now, her voice trembling as much as her body. "No, it's more than that. I just... I don't understand what I'm feeling anymore. I don't know what to do with it." She choked on the words, shame flashing across her face. "I'm confused about... about you. And it makes me feel like I'm broken or stupid or..."

Her voice trailed off, swallowed by a ragged sob.

The room went utterly still.

Isadora's chest tightened, every instinct telling her to deny it, to soothe it away, but she couldn't lie, not when Hannah had given her this piece of herself. Not with her own guilt about having Hannah in this confused state and situation. Not when her own thoughts had been tangled and heavy with the same weight.

For a long, suspended moment, she just breathed with her, her thumb tracing slow circles against Hannah's back.

And then, very quietly, she said, "You're not broken, Hannah. And you're not stupid."

Hannah's red-rimmed eyes lifted to hers, searching, desperate.

Isadora swallowed hard, her own throat tight. "Because I feel it too. The confusion. The questions. The... wanting." Her voice cracked on the last word, softer than she meant it to be. "I don't have the answers either. I'm just as lost as you are."

Silence followed, fragile but thick with unspoken things.

For the first time, Hannah didn't look away. She held Isadora's gaze, her tears slowing, as if the admission had cut through the fog enough to let her breathe again.

The silence stretched, so full it made Hannah's ears ring. Her breath trembled in and out, her eyes still locked on Isadora's, as if daring her to pull away, to deny it.

But Isadora didn't move. She stayed right there on the floor, steady and sure, her hand warm against Hannah's back. Then, slowly, she shifted, leaning back just enough to open her arms.

"Come here," she whispered. Not asking nor demanding.

Hannah froze, her throat tight. For a heartbeat, she thought she couldn't move, that her body would betray her by staying rooted to the desk. But then her chair scraped softly against the tile as she slid down, her knees brushing the floor, until she was folding into Isadora's lap like it was the only place she belonged.

The air left both of them in a shuddering exhale.

Isadora wrapped her arms around her, firm and protective, one hand cradling the back of Hannah's head, the other holding her close at the waist. Hannah pressed her face into her shoulder, trembling, letting herself be gathered in like something precious instead of fragile.

Isadora lowered her cheek into Hannah's hair, breathing her in. Her voice was low, husky with the weight of everything she couldn't say aloud yet. "We'll figure it out," she murmured. "You don't have to worry anymore. You're not alone in this. We're in it together now."

Hannah's breath hitched, then softened, her body melting into the promise. And though the words terrified her as much as they soothed her, she clung to them, because for once, they felt like something she could believe in.