Helena only realized how fast she was eating when her spoon clinked against ceramic. She blinked at her bowl. The creamy oatmeal Diane had prepared for her—with molasses drizzled on top—was already three-quarters gone.

“Remember to chew, Helena,” she heard Diane say.

“I, um.” Helene blinked up at Diane. Diane was sitting up on the nightstand next to Helena, smiling down at her. “Sorry.” Helena licked her lips, feeling her cheeks redden. “Oh, God. I'm so sorry, I—I feel like I haven't eaten in days.”

“That's what you get for relapsing,” Diane said curtly.

Although Diane probably didn't mean for it to sound so harsh, Helena winced, her shame giving her airways a firm, reprimanding squeeze.

“I know.”

“Not to mention getting up and tearing my room apart.” Diane laughed lightly. “What were you even hoping to find, young lady?”

“That was—“ Helena's voice faltered, but that condescending address was clearly meant as tongue-in-cheek. “I wasn't—I'm sorry again about that. I just... I guess I felt...”

“Finish your breakfast.”

“Okay.” Helena's head drooped.

She tried to slow down her eating, even though every gradual rise of the spoon felt like torture. The oatmeal was absolutely delicious. It was so sweet and creamy, contrasting a rich earthiness from the molasses with the bright sweetness of the frozen wild blueberries. There was also a bitterness to it, tucked away beneath the other intense flavors, but that bitterness matched the aftertaste that had lingered in Helena's mouth all morning. The overall effect was still mouthwatering. It was all she could do not to shove her face into the bowl and wolf it all down on the spot.

Of course, anything would probably have tasted delicious to her this morning. Those last four hours, from four in the morning to breakfast time, had felt like a whole endless night in and of themselves. She'd woken up from nightmares once or twice, but always sleep had pulled her back into its clutches within moments.

She finally lowered the bowl. Her breaths were ragged from the frantic pace, and yet she felt more awake than she had since… well, since she’d gotten drunk last night. God, had it really only been eight hours? It already seemed like an eternity ago.

“So, um.” Helena swallowed. “I... I've been meaning to...”

“Drink your milk, silly girl.”

Helena took the proffered glass and drank greedily. Anything to help the hangover’s lingering fog fade from her mind. The second half of what Diane had said only registered a moment later, and she could only hope Diane couldn't see her face getting redder from behind the glass.

“A-Anyways,” she sputtered after finishing the drink, allowing Diane to take the cup from her, shivering as Diane's fingers brushed hers, “I... I really appreciate you letting me stay here. But it's morning, and... and I need to get my—”

“Are you feeling alright, Helena?”

“W-What?” Helena blinked as she let Diane take the bowl and spoon away as well. “I—fine, why?”

“You're very red.” Diane's lovely brow knit with concern. “Are you feverish?”

“Oh.” Helena's breath caught. Then it stayed caught like a bird in a snare as Diane leaned over her, cleavage right in front of Helena's eyes and amply shown off in that low-cut sweater. Diane put a cool hand to Helena's forehead. “N-No, I—” Her voice was a squeak. Diane didn't seem to hear her.

“You feel hot to me. Did you not notice?”

“No,” Helena breathed. Diane smelled especially musky. Had she been working hard? She had gotten up early to make Helena breakfast…

Diane was doing so much for a girl who had promised to ruin her life. Shame of a different kind sat in Helena's gut and wouldn't leave.

It was worse that she couldn't stop staring. Couldn't stop breathing in. Diane’s tits were right in front of her. She was broken. She was so... so wrong. Diane had no idea Helena was thinking about her this way.

Maybe she wouldn't mind, she tried to reassure herself. She'd... with the other TAs…

But never Helena.

“You don't seem well.” Diane pulled back, then, just as Helena's breathing was starting to normalize again, put that cool hand on Helena's cheek. Diane stared intently into her eyes. Helena stared back into those piercing icy depths and felt absolutely no will to argue. “Your eyes are unfocused. Are you even listening to me?”

“I-I'm listening!” Helena protested. “And I f-feel fine. It's just from the hangover.”

“Hm.” Diane frowned. “I'm really not happy that you decided to get yourself drunk in my house, but I’m doubly disappointed if you knew it would have this kind of effect on your body and did it anyway.”

“I—I didn't—” Helena's words choked in her throat. She’d never gotten a hangover this bad before. Not even at her worst as an alcoholic. Never.

“I'm not angry. It's okay. I'm just...” Diane let out a sigh. “I really just don't know what to do with you, Helena.”

“I—”

“I'm just worried about you.” Diane's hand was still on Helena's cheek. Now it slipped down to her neck. It was such a casual touch. It almost felt too familiar, inappropriately so, but Diane's eyes were just filled with genuine concern. Diane wasn’t frowning at her anymore. Helena couldn’t bring herself to ruin that. “The way you've acted these last—this last night, the way you're clearly self-destructing. I mean, I'm having to remind you to do basic self-care.”

“Nn.” Helena's tongue felt leaden. Everything felt... fuzzy. Fuck, was she feverish? She never got hangovers this bad. “I'm... I'm fine.”

“Have you showered yet today?”

Helena swallowed. “No, because I've been eating breakfast.”

“Please don't snap at me.”

“I—I'm sorry.”

“Thank you.” Diane gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Thank you for clarifying why you haven't showered today. But you should do it now.”

“Do—do I smell?”

Diane’s eyebrows arched. Helena flushed—she'd meant to ask more gracefully. Everything was just so weirdly blurry, and her thoughts just weren’t assembling in the right order all of a sudden.

Diane smiled. “Of course not, Helena. This isn't about that. I just thought a shower might help you feel better with this hangover.”

“R-Right.” Helena bit her lip.

And then, impulsively, she reached up and grabbed Diane's hand.

Diane's hand was cool. At first, she saw surprise in Diane's eyes, and Helena felt a burst of fear.

Then Diane took her hand and gave it a tiny little squeeze.

Helena could have melted with happiness. Shame and embarrassment filled her at that realization, but right now, their voices were distant. Only Diane’s pretty, gentle eyes mattered.

Diane let the hand go and smiled at her. Butterflies fluttered in Helena's brain as she smiled shyly back.

“I have to go soon.” Diane spoke slowly, softly, as if soothing an animal. “You can sleep in if you have to. I'll be back in time for lunch. Stay in bed and rest, and only shower if you feel able. No stairs.”

Helena blinked blearily. “No, I... I don't need to sleep more. Honestly, I feel like I've been in bed all...”

“I can see you trying not to yawn.”

Helena found herself yawning at the suggestion. “Nn. I mean, I... I have to leave.”

“You’re in no shape for that.”

Helena steeled herself and met Diane’s gaze head-on, trying to strengthen her voice. “I’m going to class today.”

“No, you’re not.” There was absolutely no room for compromise in Diane’s icy-crisp tone.

“Okay.”

Helena’s voice sounded tiny and weak. But Diane's rewarding smile, warm and caring, made her shiver with delight.

Diane turned to go.

No. Wait. Fuck. Helena tried once more to rally. Just as Diane was stepping out the door, she managed a hoarse, “Diane!”

Diane paused. “Yes, dear?”

“Can I—” Helena felt her cheeks burning red-hot. “My phone. You never, um...”

“Ah, right.” Diane smiled. “Is that all? I'll be right back with it. Rest, Helena.”

Helena's head fell back onto the pillow. She'd asked for the phone. That was what mattered.

She was so tired. Her brain felt... heavy. Blurry. Foggy.

Maybe… maybe I do need more rest after all.

* * *


Helena's dreams swam past her like debris in murky water, blurred and indistinct but clinging to her nonetheless. An oily sense of wrongness clung to her even after she woke, but she could never remember quite what the dreams had been about, and the room was always dark when she managed to pull the covers off, leaving the waking world feeling strange and liminal, unreal. She would always slip back under almost instantly.

It took her an… indeterminate amount of time to remember that it wasn't nighttime. The blackout curtains were back up, was all.

She couldn't remember the curtains getting replaced. Diane must have done it to help her sleep easier.

That was nice of her.

She shivered, forcing herself up. Something had woken her up, but she wasn’t sure what. And it was freezing cold in here—bizarrely cold for the middle of the day. Fuck, did she actually have a fever?

This was the worst possible time and place for her to get sick.

Helena rubbed her eyes, trying to clear her mind of the strange moltenness that had pervaded it lately.

A knock came at the door.

“Helena?” called Diane. “Are you asleep in there?”

Helena felt her heartrate quicken, and she immediately became very sure of the subject of some of those dreams. “N-No, Diane!” she called.

She heard a mechanical click, and the door opened, and blinding light soared into the room and pierced Helena’s eyes.

Through a painful blur, Helena watched beautiful, terrifying Diane stepped inside. She was once again carrying a tray with a bowl and glass of milk. Helena realized it had to be lunchtime. The professor smiled at Helena, cocking her head. “So, never got out of bed, huh?”

Something about Diane’s tone sounded almost deliberately cutting to Helena. Sure it was just her paranoid imagination, she shook her head shyly. “I... I might be coming down with something. You should stay away.”

“Oh?” Entirely ignoring the second thing Helena had said, Diane made her way to the bed and sat down next to her. Creases stretched across her tight black pencil skirt as she settled into the blankets. “Didn't I say you seemed feverish?”

Helena blushed. “Yes, Diane. Sorry.”

Her ass looks even softer than the… no, fuck, don’t fucking think things like that!

“It's okay.” Diane giggled, reaching over and lightly touching Helena’s hair. “We'll just have to keep you well-nourished. And keep you from relapsing again, obviously, if you think you can manage that.”

Helena thought of the liquor bottle she'd hidden under the bed and swallowed. “Yes, Diane.”

Diane frowned, reaching over to touch Helena's cheek. Helena's heart went into overdrive, so much that she barely even heard Diane say, “You should really be calling me Professor Wood, Helena.”

Helena's eyes widened at the words, the chill in Diane’s voice, the tenderness of the touch. She stammered, confused. She looked at the hand, then into Diane's piercing blue eyes. The dissonance was dizzying. “W-What?”

Diane gave her a tight, pitying smile. “Professor Wood. I’m your professor, Helena. Look, I… understand some boundaries might be blurred here lately, but I think I need to say...” She trailed off. “Oh, God, nevermind.“

“What?”

“Nothing.” Diane's hand dropped away. “It’s harsh. I know you’re having trouble, I should be…”

“Say it,” Helena blurted. Get it out there. Please. Everything's felt so weird lately. If you hate me, just say it. It would be the most normal reaction either of us have had so far to all this.

Diane sighed. “Helena, when it comes to boundaries… you're the one blurring them. Coming to my home, calling me Diane…”

Helena stared up at Diane helplessly. The room seemed to be saying around her, the lights from the hallway forming blurry kaleidoscope displays to frame Diane’s perfect face.

“I'm—” Helena almost choked on her words. “I'm suh—sorry, Di—I mean, Professor Wood, I didn't... I mean, I'm...”

“Helena.” Suddenly, Diane’s serious expression disappeared. She cracked a little half-smile, patting Helena on the shoulder. “Helena. I'm kidding.”

Helena stopped short. “W-What?”

“You're literally the only person in the cohort who calls me ‘Professor Wood’.” Diane rolled her eyes goodnaturedly. “It’s a joke, Helena. You doing okay?”

Helena blinked rapidly.

She was okay.

She was fine.

She just felt like she’d jumped off a speeding merry-go-round and been caught in midair.

Diane laughed and tousled Helena's hair. “God, I'm sorry, I know you're sick. It's not fair to tease you when your brain's basically liquid Nyquil.”

Helena's eyelids fluttered involuntarily as those fingers ran through her hair. Diane's reassuring words and touch... Helena felt like she could have purred. Her nails dug into the sheets to keep a grip. “N-Nyquil?” she managed.

“Anyways, eat your lunch, and then I'll help you to the bathroom so you can clean up. I've already drawn a nice, warm bath for you.”

“God.” Helena's voice shook. She tried to match Diane's energy, though, managing a smile. “You're... thank you for everything you're doing for me, Diane.” Touch me more touch me more touch me more—no, STOP. “I know I'm being kind of...”

“A mess?”

Helena's cheeks heated. Diane's tone was still light, but the words...

“It's okay, Helena.” But Diane's hand still left Helena's hair. “I get it. You're... I know you're trying to be better. I'm trying to be patient.”

Helena nodded meekly.

She knew this was... not a good look for her. None of this was. She was giving Diane too much control in these conversations. She felt like she wasn’t standing up to Diane at all anymore.

And she was letting Diane fluster her past the point of dignity.

And she couldn’t stop sneaking glances at how Diane’s ass stretched the fabric of that skirt, squished against the mattress.

But I'm sick, she told herself defensively. And it's... it's not like I'm letting her walk all over me. I'm still gonna report her when I get back. And I still insisted on my...

That thought hit an abrupt roadblock.

“Diane. Where's my phone?”

As sick and dizzy and confused as she felt, this question brought everything right into focus very fucking fast.

Diane was an enemy. Helena could not forget that, not for one second, and this was the clearest proof she’d seen so far. Diane was a fraud, a con artist, a lying, unethical manipulator.

And matter how kind and sweet she was acting, she was undeniably, inescapably keeping Helena from accessing her ph—

“I gave it to you earlier.” Diane frowned and pointed to the nightstand.

Helena blinked. She turned.

A phone sat there right next to the lamp. It had a metallic cyan casing and a big university sticker. It was her phone.

She stared at it, her spirit quailing. She almost willed it to disappear. But it remained, and so did her rising shame as she turned back to Diane.

“You didn't give it to me.” Her voice sounded weak, as if searching for the right tone, the right words. “You... you kept putting it off.”

Diane frowned. “Helena, I gave it to you last night. It's been there. Did you not look?”

“I did look!“ Helena was squirming. ”I—I swear I looked. I looked!”

“Okay! I believe you, sweetie!” Diane put up her hands in mock-surrender. “It was dark in here. I should have made sure you noticed.”

“But I—” Helena stopped short, realizing Diane had just agreed with her. “I—well—yeah. I... I wish you'd told me, is all.”

“I'm sorry you didn't notice.” Diane frowned, reaching forward to brush a stray lock out of Helena's hair that had almost fallen into the bowl of soup. “I'll be more careful next time.”

Helena's throat constricted faster than if Diane had physically wrapped those slender fingers around her neck. She looked at the hand, and briefly felt like she should... say something.

A part of her was still stubbornly clinging to the need for Diane to be the villain somehow. Diane was being very handsy. Regardless of Helena's stupid crush, it wasn’t appropriate, was it?

But Diane treated the other TAs like this all the time, didn't she?

But she also did... other things with them. Bad things. Improprietous things.

Helena squirmed. It occurred to her that she’d already let Diane touch her hair a lot. She'd let Diane touch her cheek earlier, even if that had just been some sort of joke. And even other professors sometimes patted students’ shoulders, didn’t they? Was this that different?

Maybe it was okay? Maybe it was normal?

“Is there a reason you're wriggling like that?” Diane asked coolly. “You're gonna spill your soup, Helena. Speaking of which, eat up.”

Helena snapped to attention. “Okay, Pr—Diane.” Helena picked up the spoon, then glanced back at the phone. She reached for it.

“Oh, are you going to go on your phone?” Diane started to rise. “I should give you privacy, then.”

Helena froze as Diane's touch left her, as Diane's weight and warmth and scent started to follow.

“I—I was thinking I'd do it after eating, actually,” she squeaked, withdrawing her hand. She waited, watching Diane's figure as subtly as she could manage.

To her intense relief, Diane smiled at her and sat back down. “It's probably best. You don't wanna spill soup on it, with how clumsy you are lately.”

“Right.” Helena smiled weakly, sparing one longing glance to the phone. But it was okay. She had it here. She could get on it as soon as she was done eating and text someone.

She started eating. This was some cross between French onion soup and chicken noodle soup, and it was divine. That oatmeal had barely whet her appetite before. This was food, lukewarm or no, and she gulped it down desperately. Admittedly, it was definitely a lot easier to eat without having one hand occupied with the phone.

“Atta girl,” Diane said as the spoon clattered against the empty bowl. She took the tray and set it aside, rose to her feet, and then reached for Helena's hand. “Now, you ready to go?”

“I...w—huh?” Helena almost glanced at the phone again, but she’d already taken Diane's hand without thinking.

Diane pulled Helena right out of the bed.

Helena almost squealed as the frigid air hit her. She trembled, knees quaking, forcing herself to stand up fully.

Diane's arm slipped around her shoulders and pulled her close.

“Easy does it,” Diane cooed in her ear. “Just a few steps. You need to wash up before you nod off again.”

“But—buh—” Helena was unspeakably flustered. Her breaths came in ragged—not out of shivering, but out of humiliating desire as she pressed against Diane, breathed in Diane's cinnamon-tinged musk. “My phone?”

“Do you want it in the bath with you?” Diane’s voice was gentle, concerned, without a hint of mockery.

“The…” Oh, right. Helena blushed. She was supposed to take a bath. Had they agreed the bath would happen right after? She supposed they must have. She’d sort of wanted to get on her phone first, but a bath also sounded heavenly right now.

And so she obediently made her way down the hall, relying on Diane to keep her on her feet.