Helena's face felt like it had burst into flames. Come to bed? Did that mean—did that—no, it couldn’t, Diane wouldn’t—

“Well?” Her professor raised an eyebrow.

“I—but you—”

"But I?"

Helena wasn't even thinking as she buried her face in Diane's shoulder. She only registered what she'd done a second after, and by then it was too late, and Diane felt so warm, smelled so good... and the idea of showing her burning cheeks felt absolutely overwhelming.

"S-Sorry," she mumbled, humiliated. She tried to steel her nerves, to force herself to pull back...

But Diane's hand touched the top of her hand, gentle, tender, and thoughts of pulling away fled Helena in a wave of relief. "Shh. Shh. No need to apologize for that, Helena. That's okay. That's the first smart thing you've done all night." Her voice was like ambrosia on Helena's tongue, and Helena wanted to whimper, but bit her lip hard to hold it in.

"S-Sorry," she whispered again, not quite knowing what she was apologizing for, but—but Diane was being so kind, and she was being so stupid, and—and—and she'd said such awful things earlier, things she felt so unsure about now, and even if they were true, she was the one harassing Diane like this, she was the one who'd gotten drunk. She'd meant to take the high road against her professor, and now she felt more vulnerable than she could imagine. And wasn’t that only fair? She’d wanted power over Diane, wanted to see Diane squirm. Helena had set out to manipulate Diane, and she hadn't even realized it until Diane had pointed it out to her.

And what a pathetic attempt it had turned out to be.

What a pathetic attempt it had been to try to manipulate this woman ten years older than her. No wonder it had ended up this way. Diane had disarmed her like she was an idiot child running with a pair of scissors, and now she was the one saving Helena after Helena had made a drunken fool of herself.

She stayed buried in Diane's shoulder, welcoming the warmth, breathing in Diane's musky scent and trying not to feel too many things about it as Diane opened the door and half-led, half-carried her into a cozy little…

… guest bedroom.

Helena felt shame boil in her gut at how her heart sank. It was obviously not Diane’s bedroom. The bed looked untouched, and the room’s furnishments were spartan. The cute, kitschy floral wallpaper depicted twining roses, and everything smelled of dust and disuse. It was the sort of room she'd expect to find in a grandparent's home, or a nursery.

She was so glad Diane couldn’t see the look on her face.

Of course Diane hadn’t been implying… that. Diane had always overlooked her before. What had Helena done lately to earn any new attention beyond pity?

But…

Are you coming to bed? Hadn’t that been what Diane had asked her? Coming, not going. Didn’t that mean… God, was that even what Diane had said?...

Her head swam, and she squeezed her eyes shut. It was all too much. Her memories of right before her first blackout out were thick and opaque, and her memories of everything after waking up weren’t much better.

Everything about this situation felt absurd. Felt wrong. But it felt so hard to place what was absurd about things, to place why a tiny voice in her head was urging her to get away from her, get away from Diane, she’s hurting us, she’s evil, she’s dangerous, run—

It felt hard.

Nuzzling Diane's shoulder (the first smart thing you've done all night) felt… easy.

Simple.

Much simpler than accusing Diane again. Much less likely to hurt anyone. And she’d done enough hurting, hadn’t she? She had been hurting Diane, or tried to. Pathetically. Weakly. Just to get Diane's attention. All she’d managed to do is hurt herself. Or make Diane have to hurt her. Or something.

She felt so tired. She couldn't keep track of which ideas were real and which were just the alcohol fuzzing things over, which emotions were rational and which were her social anxiety running roughshod over her common sense. It was so hard to separate all these stupid brain worms from what she'd actually done wrong, but assuming she was entirely in the right, that Helena was some kind of pure evil cartoon villain…

Narcissistic. That was how it felt. Amber’s parting words from their breakup still haunted her, even a year later. Whatever Helena’s therapist said, Amber had known her better than anyone.

Narcissistic.

“Helena?” Helena only realized she’d drifted off again when she felt cool softness beneath her rear, heard Diane’s voice as if from down a tunnel, and realized Diane was lowering her onto the bed.

“S-Sorry,” she mumbled. Her tongue was thick and clumsy in her mouth. She couldn’t remember if she’d already apologized.

"No more apologizing." Diane’s voice was soft as she reached down to gently stroke Helena’s hair. Her hand slid down to the space between Helena’s shoulder blades, helping to hold her upright. "I don't want you to apologize except when I tell you you need to apologize. Okay?"

Helena reluctantly allowed Diane to pull her away from the shameful comfort of Diane's shoulder crook, and she found herself staring up into Diane's piercing, merciless gaze.

Diane was smiling, but there was a steely menace to that smile. It was that or else smile that made Helena's heart beat like a rabbit's. She’d never looked at Helena like that before tonight. Professor Wood was always charismatic in class, always seemed to control of the conversation no matter what was being discussed, but Helena had never looked in to Diane’s eyes and felt such a confusing mix of fear and need.

"Okay," she whimpered. "Sor—um, th-thank you, Diane."

Diane's smile warmed a little. She let go, allowing Helena to fall back until her head hit the pillow.

The next thing Helena knew, Diane was leaning down over her. One hand was on the mattress. The other was on Helena's thigh.

Helena found air wouldn't enter her chest. Her lungs refused to do anything but keep the air they held—Diane's air, Diane's scent. She stared up at Diane, her heart racing wildly as though someone had set fire to it.

"You're welcome, Helena. And good for you for not apologizing again. I'm glad I can help with fixing that little habit of yours—it's hard, isn't it, always feeling so anxious?"

Helena nodded weakly. Briefly, she wondered at how Diane always read her so easily—but she'd written about her social anxiety in that first introduction essay for the class, hadn’t she? Her RSD, her lack of confidence. She’d wanted her professor to know she might have problems sometimes in class, and Diane was always so supportive, so encouraging.

She felt Diane's hand on the back of her hair again, and didn't struggle as Diane pulled her close. She didn't squirm. Didn't object. No.

No, she went… limp.

She let Diane pull her in, and her heart wouldn't stop pounding so hard it hurt. She breathed in Diane's scent, her lungs finally obeying her again, and her drunken head spun from the mix of musk and faint cinnamony perfume contaminating the oxygen. It left her short of breath, forcing her to breathe in more and more, and she needed fresh air, but she didn't want it. She stared at Diane's lips as they came closer and closer, curved upwards in a strange, almost predatory smile.

And her heart came to a stuttering stop as Diane's lips met... her forehead. A soft, almost condescendingly tender kiss.

Humiliation that she'd expected anything more hit her like a burning brand. What the fuck was wrong with her?

"I'm going to get some blankets," Diane said sweetly, and started to pull away. Away went the warmth. Away with the softness.

“W-Wait!”

And to her surprise, Diane stopped. Helena realized that she'd grabbed Diane's hand. A meek little grasp of Diane's fingertips with her own, easily broken.

“Th-These are fine,” she mumbled. She sat upon a soft quilt of pretty night sky patterns. It wasn't that cold in here. The quilt smelled... nice. Musky. Cinnamony. She didn’t need more blankets.

She needed Diane to stay close.

Diane raised an eyebrow down at her. For a moment, she didn’t say anything.

Helena bit her lip and let go. But her anxiety bubbled in her throat, forcing a single word out. "Sorry."

She realized her mistake a second too late.

Diane's eyes narrowed. Her hand lunged up and grabbed Helena by the chin. Her grip was not harsh, but firm, squishing Helena's cheeks together between thumb and forefingers to force her lips apart.

Helena’s world hit a standstill so sudden it gave her vertigo.

"Did I ask for an apology?" Diane asked coolly.

Confusion and embarrassment and fear formed wild storms in Helena's head and chest, filled her stomach with thunder and lightning. She was so sleepy, so drunk, and this was—this was so many things—

Helena whimpered. "No, Diane. Sor—thanks for—" She stopped herself from letting a filler word slip. "—reminding me."

She was shaking, she realized. She didn't know what to do, what to say. She just didn't want Diane to be angry at her anymore. Why was Diane being like this?

Was this... was Helena really being so annoying that she deserved it? Fuck, she was so drunk, she had no idea.

But as Diane smiled, those worries dissolved like sugar in water. The tender smile soothed any burns of fear, and Helena practically nuzzled the hand as it became gentle and cradled her chin. It had felt so unyielding a second ago. Now she wondered if she'd misjudged. Her anxiety getting the better of her. That couldn't be true, could it?

She wanted it to be true.

"There's my good girl," her professor murmured. "You never need to give me apologies except when I ask for one, okay, Helena? I want to help you with that little manipulative habit, because it's going to drive people away. You know it does."

Helena nodded meekly.

"But I'm not going anywhere.” Diane caressed her cheek. “I'm even willing to help you with it if you let me, Helena. Okay?"

Helena nodded again. She liked Diane touching her face. She liked Diane staying close. She liked Diane's smile being on her, making her feel so special, so... loved. God, how pathetic was that? Diane was her professor. Over a decade older than her.

But she wanted Diane to love her so badly it hurt, and she would die if Diane ever, ever found out.

"Good girl." Diane released her with a fond pat on the cheek. It felt a little condescending, but maybe that was fair, considering the situation Helena had gotten herself into. "Now, I'll be right back. You get settled in, okay, sweetie? Remember to sleep on your side."

Sweetie. Helena nodded perhaps a little too quickly and hurried to do as she was told, wriggling clumsily under the covers. Diane's smile widened at this, and Helena glowed inside with an absurd sense of pride.

She watched Diane leave. Watched those hips sway. And waited in the dark for her professor to return.

She wanted to wait up. Wanted to see Diane one last time before she drifted off.

But the second her head touched the pillow, all the alcohol in her head seemed to slosh downward, and her mind sank almost instantly into the softness of silk.