Arguing was never your thing.

Not with Isadora.

But it happened.

It happened because she wanted to keep this a secret.

The touches, the whispers, the kisses, the smiles, the way she looked at you.

Whatever this relationship was—it lived in the shadows, and she insisted on keeping it there.

You didn’t want that anymore. Not when you were off school grounds, not when all you wanted was to hold her hand without fear.

But she was scared.

So you snapped. You argued.

Which was why you ended up at Ajax’s stupid party, drunk on a couch, phone clutched in your hand. After too much hesitation—and too much alcohol—you scrolled to her contact and hit call.

Once. Twice.

By the third ring, she answered.

She said your name softly, her voice raspy with sleep. You’d woken her.

“Why can’t you love me?” The words slurred out of your mouth before you could stop them.

Her breath hitched. You heard the shuffle of sheets, like she was sitting up.

“What are you talking about?” she whispered.

You chuckled, hiccupping. “Am I that bad? Or is it just easier for you in secret?”

“I—what? No. Are you drunk?” More rustling. A click. The faint sound of a lamp switching on.

“Yes, I’m drunk. So what? Am I not allowed to do that either?” you grumbled.

“I never said that. Where are you?” she asked, voice steady but urgent now, as if she was pulling on clothes.

“Does it matter? So you can hide me again?” you hiccupped, then groaned. “Mmm, I’m hanging up.”

“No! Don’t—don’t hang up. Tell me where you are.” Her words rushed out too fast, followed by silence. Then, softer “Please. Tell me where you are. I don’t care if I’m seen. I just need to know you’re okay.”

You inhaled shakily before muttering your location.

“Okay… can you come outside? Please?” she asked, careful, quiet.

You hummed in response, then ended the call.

A few drinks later, somehow, you stumbled upstairs and out of the building. And there she was. Already waiting.

“Isa?” you mumbled, squinting as she slipped an arm around your waist.

She smiled gently, brushing hair from your face. “I’ve got you,” she murmured, steadying you as you leaned into her.

By the time you reached her apartment, she was practically holding you upright. She eased you onto her bed, guiding your hands as she helped with your clothes before you flopped back with a groan.

“I’m sorry for calling,” you whispered.

She shook her head quickly, climbing onto the bed beside you. Her lips pressed soft kisses against your cheek, your forehead.

“No… I should be the one apologizing,” she whispered, pressing her forehead to yours.

Your eyes stung as you looked at her. “I get why you want to keep it a secret. I don’t want you in trouble. I’d rather we go with your rules than you losing your job…you are a pretty good teacher.” you chuckled drunkenly hiccuping before you swallowed hard. “I’ll do better.”

Her hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing your skin as she sighed. Then, with a small laugh, she kissed you softly.

“You reek of alcohol, my love.” She murmured against your lips.