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Isabela was pacing.
An activity that she preferred not to do because, quiet frankly, if she was going to be stressed, she wasn’t going to come out of it looking like a mess. but today…
Today she was pacing around the dorm’s common room, thoughts racing like Usain Bolt through her head. And if anyone could make her stressed enough to pace, it was Taylor. Isabela had paced a lot before Taylor and her had got together, and whenever they had a fight, but this wasn’t stress so much as worry.
Isabela needed to clear up… the incident.
She just didn’t know how. Her real face wasn’t something she talked about to anyone unless forced, and she hadn’t allowed any of the others to tell Taylor about the horrifying mess of grafted skin and missing hair that was her head, un-shapeshifted.
But, she needed to come clean to her girlfriend. Even if Taylor recoiled, Isabela had to tell her. She deserved to know.
So, Isabela paced. And paced. And paced. And paced.
Ran—her legs folded lotus style on the ground—watched her the entire time, both teens having the weekend free while Taylor was working with the Foundation (not that that didn’t stress Isabela out either. Needless to say, she was 8 billion types of stressed right now.)
“Penny for your thoughts,” Ran asks, halting Isabela’s pacing. The Brazilian stood and watched her room-mate, considering whether to confess her thoughts. In the end, she relents.
“I’m thinking of telling Taylor about the accident and my… affliction,” Isabela can tell that she sounds like she’s being forced to confess but is calmer when she sees her room mates face soften with understanding.
“Okay, say you do decide to tell Taylor, what’s the worst case scenario?” Isabela sits cross-legged on the floor facing Ran, resting her hands on her knees.
“Taylor, also know as the best thing thats ever happened to me, dumps me for either a) being disgusting or b) lying to her for our entire friend/relationship,” her room mates eyebrows quirk but she doesn’t ask for Isabela to expand her statement, instead asking;
“What’s the best case scenario?”
“She still loves me a hell of a lot, proposes, and we metaphorically ride off into the sunset to get married,” she says, voice full of sarcasm. Isabela almost laughs at the thought. The best case scenario won’t happen.
“Alright, knowing Taylor, what is probably going to happen?” Isabela sighs, rubbing a hand over her face.
“She’ll need a little time but she might just come around.” Ran laughed at that. Isabela glares at her.
“Do you seriously think that Taylor will need any time to keep being with you? Don’t be stupid. Do you know how much that girl loves you. The first time you told her you loved her she pretty much lost her mind. She’s not going to need a break, she’s not gonna need to “come around.” That girl loves you in every inch of her small, surprisingly strong body. You could tell her you killed a man and she’d still give you cuddles. My advice; calm down, relax, and tell your girlfriend. The worst that could happen is that she’s annoyed you didn’t tell her sooner.” The door behind Isabela opens and Ran stands with a smile in the direction of the door and walks into her room. Isabela stands and faces Taylor as the girl skips across the room and kisses her.
“Hey,” Taylor says, southern accent bringing a small smile to Isabela’s face. The Brazilian swallows the lump in her throat and sits on the couch, pulling Taylor to sit next to her. Worry crosses Taylor’s face. “Are you alright Iz?”
“I need to tell you something,” Isabela’s voice shakes and she vaguely notices Taylor’s thumbs begin to rub circles on her hands.
“What’s wrong?” Isabela looks into her girlfriends eyes, seeing only loving concern there.
“Do you remember what happened that night on the road? When that girl shot me in the neck?” Taylor nods, confusion crossing her face. “And how my face changed and it probably looked like I’d been burned alive?” Taylor nods again. “Well, uh, I, I-“
“Bela, what is it?” Isabela sighs and stands.
“It’s probably better if I show you, just not… here. C’mon,” her girlfriend follows Isabela into her room, closing the door behind the two.
“Just before the war, I went to a party. There was a house fire and I got burned, badly. I spent the entire war in a hospital burn ward in Rio and when I got out, I was a horrific, disgusting mess of grafting and scars.”
“When the war was over, I got the one legacy I needed to hide who I was, what I looked like, how different I was from before. Shapeshifting. It was the best gift I could have asked for. It was great, until I got shot and you and the others saw. They all know but I couldn’t- I didn’t want you to see me like that again, didn’t want you to think of me like how I am,” Isabela’s voice cracks, tears forming in her eyes. But still she continues.
“I didn’t want you to- I don’t think I could handle it if you left because of me,” she releases a sob on the last word. It would truly destroy her soul if Taylor Cook turned away from their relationship. Who would have thought a simple farm girl from South Dakota could wreak havoc on Isabela’s emotions like she had?
Taylor brushes a hand over Isabela’s arm gently and leans forward to press her forehead to her girlfriends, an action which had always been one of love between them.
“It’s okay Bela, you can show me. I promise I’m not going to leave. Not as long as you’ll have me,” the girls voice was soft, calming Isabela with her lilting southern accent. Isabela pulls away, and taking a deep breath, lets her facade drop.
Taylor’s reaction is not as bead as Isabela was expecting. It was only a silently shocked expression as she creeps closer and gently touches Isabela’s heavily grafted skin and the wide spread hair on her head. And then Isabela’s heart breaks.
Because Taylor starts crying her eyes out. Isabela pulls her closer, ignoring the sight of her burnt hands and arms as they wrap around Taylor, one hand fisting in her shirt, the other in her blonde hair.
“Hey… hey, it’s- it’s okay, Taylor. It’s okay. What’s wrong?” Taylor shakes in Isabela’s arms but wraps her own arms around Isabela’s waist. The sway for a while, the only sound in the room Taylor’s soft crying and Isabela’s quiet, calming shushing and assurances.
They seperate but don’t go very far. Taylor sniffles and rubs her eyes as Isabela pushes her hair out of her face and watches her with concern.
“I’m so sorry Bela. I’m so sorry,” Isabela stares at her girlfriend in shock.
“What are you sorry for, babe?” Her voice is tender but her hands on Taylor’s face are firm as she holds her girlfriend.
“I’m sorry that you had to go through that. I know that you loved being beautiful back in Brazil. I’m sorry that you had to repeat that story to me when it would have pained you to tell it to the others. I’m sorry you haven’t felt you could tell me soone-“ she’s cut off by Isabela’s lips closing on her own. Isabela tugs her close enough that their bodies are touching.
Taylor responds in kind, wrapping her arms around Isabela and angling herself for better access to her girlfriend.
The kiss is short but not lacking. Taylor wants more the second Isabela pulls away. Taylor had decided a long time ago that Isabela Silva was the best type of drug.
“I love you. So so much,” Isabela kisses her again. “You have nothing, nothing, to be sorry for. And if you did, I would forgive you instantly. God I love you,” Isabela dropped to her knees, Taylor following.
“I love you more than anything. I don’t think I could walk out on you even if I tried, no matter what you look like. You’re a beautiful badass no matter what,” Isabela laughs at that, tears streaming down her now face.
They stayed there, curled into each other on Isabela’s carpet for hours, not being able to let go of each. They would stick together through whatever came next.
Isabela wouldn’t want anyone else by her side.