Isadora hated this.

Hated how distant you’d become.

You were avoiding her like the plague, and she hated it.

One minute, everything was fine—quiet conversations in her room, subtle smiles exchanged in class, the comfort of your presence filling the gaps she never admitted she had. Then she had to open her mouth. One stupid comment about how “inappropriate” it was for you to say something like that in her room during lunch, and suddenly she was radioactive to you.

No more daily check-ins. No more poking your head through her door during free periods. No more snacks placed at her desk, no playful glances in class, no soft “Miss Capri” in that low voice that sent shivers down her spine.

Nothing.

And this wasn’t the first time, but it was the worst.

In class, she tried everything—asking you questions just to hear your voice, guiding your group and hovering near you, even if it was just to feel your presence again. But you either ignored her or gave her answers clipped sharp enough to cut.

Her eyes still betrayed her. Whenever you walked past, she couldn’t stop following your figure, her fidgeting pausing in that rare calm you used to give her. You steadied her without even trying—your scent, your voice, your gaze. You calmed the wolf inside her, and it terrified her.

It wasn’t appropriate. It couldn’t be. And yet

Now it had been nearly a month. She couldn’t stand it anymore.

So when you scoffed at her in class and brushed her off with another sharp answer, she snapped.

“Out,” she hissed, voice low but firm. The class went quiet. You rolled your eyes and stalked out, and she followed, slamming the door behind her.

The argument spiraled fast—your voice sharp, hers biting back, both of you too close, too raw.

“Don’t blame me for this!” you snapped. “You’re the one who can’t decide what you’re doing! One moment we’re fine, the next it’s ‘inappropriate’ and you’re pushing me away! Not my fault you can’t handle me respecting your choice and backing off.”

Her face faltered, just for a second, then hardened again.

“I didn’t want this! I never asked you to act like I’m not here, I—”

“Then what do you want?” you cut in, eyes blazing. “Because one second I’m inappropriate, the next you’re angry that I’m not here!”

You didn’t wait for her reply. You brushed past and shoved the classroom door open, leaving her rooted in place, heart racing.

The rest of class blurred. She went through motions like a ghost, snapping more than usual, hands restless. Her eyes kept flicking toward you, but you never once looked back.

When the bell rang, students filed out. You were halfway to the door when her throat tightened, and she forced the word out.

“Wait.”

You froze. The last student slipped out.

“Can we… please talk?” she asked softly, fingers twisting at the chain around her neck. Her tone betrayed her, softer than she ever let herself sound.

You stood still for a moment, then flicked your wrist. The door clicked shut behind the last echo of footsteps. Slowly, you turned to face her.

Her eyes met yours, sharp but hesitant. “I don’t… I don’t like this,” she admitted, voice low. “This distance. You ignoring me—it’s not fair.”

“Fair?” you scoffed, arms crossed. “You tell me one second I’m inappropriate, the next you I’m some… breath of fresh air. Which is it, Capri?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, eyes flicking away. “I… I don’t know! I just know I can’t… I can’t stand how things are between us. You don’t even look at me.”