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Isaac Lahey had long since come to terms with being bisexual. It wasn’t a dramatic revelation. There was no sobbing in the mirror or a big “coming out” moment under rainbow lights. Just a quiet sort of yeah, that makes sense one night while watching The Mummy and thinking both Rick and Evelyn were hot. It had been clear, simple. Natural.
But this?
This was… something else.
River Ronan walked into Beacon Hills High like they’d always belonged. Leather boots, charcoal-gray skinny jeans, a graphic tee with a partially obscured cat skeleton on it, and arms full of charcoal smudges and ink stains. Their long, dark locs were tied up messily with a pencil tucked behind one ear, and their voice? Damn, that voice. It was all smooth edges and calm chaos, like a thunderstorm waiting for nightfall.
“Hey,” River had said, flashing a grin that immediately made Isaac forget how to form words. “You’re Lahey, right? Finstock’s minion?”
Isaac blinked. “Assistant,” he corrected instinctively, "and school counselor..."
“Right. Assistant Minion. Got it.”
They were teasing, and Isaac couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped out, low and reluctant. River winked. It was a lot. They were a lot. And Isaac was unsettled.
“Coach?” Isaac leaned into the doorway of Finstock’s office later that afternoon. “Got a minute?”
Finstock didn’t look up from the clipboard he was currently assaulting with a pen. “Lahey, if this is about another feral freshman crying in the janitor’s closet, you’re on your own. I’ve got enough trauma from ‘Nam, thank you.”
“No, it’s not— I mean, it’s… not that kind of crisis.”
Finstock glanced up over his glasses, squinting like Isaac had just said he wanted to try interpretive dance. “Well, spit it out before I get old. Older. Whatever.”
Isaac shifted awkwardly, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “What would you do if you realized… maybe you weren’t exactly who you thought you were?”
Finstock blinked slowly. “Okay, I’m gonna need less metaphor and more meat here, Lahey.”
“It’s just…” Isaac sighed. “I’ve always said I’m bisexual. Like, I know I’m into guys and girls. That’s never been a question. But there’s this—”
He paused. Swallowed. “There’s this person. They’re new. The art teacher.”
“Oh, them.” Finstock snorted. “Yeah, Ronan looks like a walking Hot Topic catalog made a deal with Satan. They got charisma coming out of their paint-smeared pores.”
Isaac stared at him, surprised. “You… noticed?”
“Lahey, I’m not dead. Just emotionally numb. Big difference.” Finstock tossed the clipboard on the desk and leaned back in his chair. “So, what’s the issue? You like ‘em. They’re not a dude or a chick. So what? Sexuality’s not a vending machine with labeled buttons. You’re not limited to ‘A1: Twinks’ or ‘C3: Goth Girls.’ Sometimes you realize your appetite’s bigger than the damn machine.”
Isaac blinked. “So you’re saying I’m—?”
“Pan. Sounds like you’re pan. Think that's what the kids are calling it. Congrats. Gold star. Want a damn sticker?”
“…I wouldn't say no.”
Finstock rummaged through his drawer and tossed a Lisa Frank unicorn sticker at him.
Isaac caught it. “Thanks, Coach.”
Finstock pointed at him. “Now go flirt with the art teacher and make some art of your own. Preferably not in the supply closet. I have to walk by that thing.”
Later that week, River found Isaac loitering outside their classroom, pretending to be inspecting the “Senior Self-Portraits” display.
“You again,” they said with a grin. “Let me guess. Coach sent you to confiscate my paints for being too anarchist.”
Isaac turned to face them. His mouth felt dry. “No. I, uh… I just wanted to say… I think you’re incredible. And I’m figuring out I like people because of you. So. Thanks for that. I think.”
River raised an eyebrow, smile softening. “You figuring out you like people, or that you like me?”
Isaac's face flushed. “Both?”
River chuckled and stepped closer, voice lower now. “Good answer, Assistant Minion.”
Isaac grinned, tension slipping away. He didn’t know where this was going, not exactly. But for once, the unknown felt exciting instead of terrifying.
And maybe, just maybe, the label wasn’t what mattered at all.