Chapter Text
“Miss Eagan.”
Helena sat upright in the straight-backed chair, hands folded in her lap, eyes on the floor. She didn’t dare look directly at Headmistress Cobel, though she could feel the woman’s gaze bearing down on her like a sunlamp, searching for rot.
“I don’t believe you understand the position you’re in,” Cobel said at last, voice calm and clipped. “Or perhaps you’ve simply forgotten.”
Helena blinked once, slowly. The silence stretched between them.
“I’m sorry, ma’am.”
Cobel stood, rounding the desk with the slow precision of someone who enjoyed walking in circles around her prey. Her heels clicked sharply on the tile.
“You were dozing. In Economics.”
Helena flinched. She hadn’t meant to. That was the worst part.
“I wasn’t sleeping,” she said, too softly.
“Oh no?” Cobel’s voice curled like steam. “Then what should we call it, when the heiress to Lumon Industries closes her eyes mid-lecture and ceases to respond to direct questions?”
Cobel’s steps slowed behind her.
“You represent more than yourself, Miss Eagan. You know that, don’t you?”
Helena’s fingers twitched in her lap.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Your sister made her stance clear. She doesn’t want to be here. That’s unfortunate—and disappointing—but not unexpected.”
Cobel moved to stand directly in front of her now, leaning over. Helena could see a bead of sweat beginning to form between her brows.
“But you,” Cobel continued, “you are meant to uphold the legacy. You are meant to embody discipline.”
Helena’s face burned. She wanted to disappear into the floor. She wanted to cry. She wanted to ask why she had to be the one. Why Helly was the only one of the two with the courage to tell their father no. With the respect to get away with it.
“I really am sorry.”
Cobel’s eyes didn’t move from hers.
“You don’t get to be sorry,” she said. “You get to be exemplary. You get to be worthy.”
She let that word hang in the air, heavy and poisonous.
Helena didn’t speak. She couldn’t.
“You think I don’t know what this is?” Cobel asked, straightening, folding her hands behind her back. “A cry for attention? A silent protest? You’re not your sister, Helena. Don’t insult us both by pretending you are.”
The office was spinning now. She clenched her jaw. Crinkled her nose ever-so-slightly.
“I expect a written apology to your instructor,” Cobel continued, already moving back toward her desk. “And starting tomorrow, you’ll report to your morning lectures fifteen minutes early to help prepare the space. Restore order.”
Helena nodded once, mechanical. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Dismissed.”
𐂂—ڪ
Helena walked the length of the corridor with her hands clasped behind her back, posture upright, pace even. A model student, even in disgrace.
She reached the door of her dormitory, swiped her key card, and stepped inside. The room was dim, the single window tinted blue with the beginnings of twilight. Natalie was at her desk, reading with the military stillness she always had during quiet hours. She didn’t look up. She never did.
Helly was on her bed. Or rather, draped across it—on her stomach, boots still on, cheek pressed into the crook of her arm. Her hair was unbrushed. Her blazer had fallen half off her shoulder. She was asleep.
Helena was surprised she was back so early, breaking their usual routine. Usually, Helly came back late, after Helena had already turned in and was fast asleep. Then, Helena would wake before dawn, slipping out for her morning shower while Helly was still dead to the world, limbs tangled in the sheets.
Seeing each other sleep was the only contact they had left.
It hadn’t always been like this.
When they were children, back at the estate, they shared everything. They were the kind of close that made strangers uneasy—twin girls speaking in looks and silences, curled together like nesting dolls. Communicating in their own language. Living in their own world.
Even their first year at the academy had been like that: an unspoken alliance in a place full of watchful eyes. But the older they got, the more the system worked to pry them apart. Different schedules. Different electives. “Balanced development,” they’d called it. “Fostering independence.”
By seventeen, they rarely sat in the same classes. By eighteen, they were barely acknowledged as siblings, just two students with the same last name and shared dorm assignment.
Now, at nineteen, they were little more than ghosts to each other.
Helena stood at the foot of the bed for a moment, just watching her. Helly’s mouth twitched slightly in her sleep. She looked younger like this. Softer. Like the girl Helena used to know.
Then she stirred. Groaned softly. Shifted onto her side. Her eyes fluttered open. They locked onto Helena.
“…Hey,” Helly said, voice rough with sleep.
Helena swallowed. “Hi.”
Helly pushed herself up onto her elbows, blinking hard, her hair falling across her face.
“You’re never home this early,” Helena said, voice barely above a murmur.
“Didn’t want to miss you tonight.” She stretched lazily, spine arched like a cat, then sat upright. “You look like shit.”
Helena offered a flat smile. “Thanks.”
A pause.
Helly rubbed at one eye with the heel of her palm, then glanced toward Natalie. Still reading. Still silent. A sentry in civilian clothes.
“I heard through the grapevine that Helena Eagan got in trouble today,” Helly teased, a smirk creeping up the side of her face.
Helena hesitated. The second to last thing she wanted was to get into it. To relive the shame and embarrassment their father had trained her to feel when she was anything less than perfect.
The last thing she wanted was for her first conversation with Helly in over a week to end.
“I fell asleep in class.”
Helly’s eyebrows raised. Just slightly.
“Economics?”
Helena nodded.
Helly snorted. “Told you that class was boring.”
“I really didn’t mean to,” Helena said quickly. “I just— I closed my eyes for a second.”
Helly shrugged. “You don’t have to explain it to me.”
Another beat passed.
Helena moved to the foot of her bed and sat down slowly, facing away. “You know,” she said after a long pause, “you don’t have to avoid me.”
Helly looked up, confused. “I’m not avoiding you,” she said, sounding a bit offended. “You’re just never here.”
“You’re never here.”
Helly’s shoulders tensed. She didn’t answer right away. She glanced at Natalie, still pretending to read. Always there. Always listening.
“I’m a bad influence,” Helly said, choosing her words carefully. “It’s probably better if you don’t hang around me. Especially with you going to the company next month.”
Her eyes told a different story—locked on Helena, heavy with the same silent plea she’d made a hundred times before: stay. Tell him no. Come with me.
Helena knew that look. She’d turned it down every time. Tonight was no different.
“You could still come to Lumon, you know,” Helena offered. “Father would be thrilled to have his favorite back by his side.”
Helly rolled her eyes. “You couldn’t get me back there with a gun to my head.”
This was how their rare conversations always ended lately: circling the same disagreement. A connection that had once been effortless now felt like talking to a brick wall.
A piece of Helena’s soul was quietly rotting away.
𐂂—ڪ
Helena’s eyes opened to darkness. She wasn’t sure what had woken her—a shift in the air, the weight of a dream, the pressure behind her eyes that never seemed to fully go away anymore.
The room was still. Dead silent. But then she saw movement, subtle, just at the edge of her vision. She turned her head.
Helly.
Lying in bed across from her, back arched slightly, legs parted beneath the thin blanket. One hand moving in a slow, rhythmic motion under the covers.
Helena’s breath caught. She should have looked away. She didn’t.
Helly’s face was tilted up toward the ceiling, her eyes half-lidded, lashes fluttering faintly with each breath. Her lips were parted. Her chest rose and fell in unsteady rhythm.
Helena’s stomach twisted. A flicker of heat pulsed low in her core.
She should turn away. Shut her eyes. Go back to sleep.
But her gaze stayed locked. She couldn’t move.
The blanket shifted slightly with the motion of Helly’s hand, gentle and deliberate. Helena could see the way her thigh twitched every so often. The way her lips pressed together as she tried to stay quiet. Tried not to get caught. Tried to enjoy a private moment for herself.
Helena’s mouth went dry.
And then Helly turned her head towards Helena. Locked her gaze onto hers. Looked like a deer in the headlights.
For one suspended second, neither of them moved.
Helena felt every nerve in her body ignite. She thought about shutting her eyes, pretending she was sleeping, but it was too late. Helly had seen her. Seen her watching her. Her gaze was frozen, wide. Her heart pounded in her throat. She was mortified. Burning. She didn’t move. She didn’t look away.
And Helly didn’t stop.
Her breath caught, then deepened. Her hand under the covers shifted—quicker now, more certain. Her eyes stayed fixed on Helena’s, waiting.
Helena’s pulse roared in her ears.
She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. She didn’t look away. She wanted to look away. She thought she wanted to. Of course she wanted to. This was wrong. Sick.
And then Helly’s jaw clenched. Her body tensed, her eyes fluttered halfway shut, but only halfway. She was still looking at Helena when it happened.
The tension snapped. Her body arched just slightly, mouth open in a soundless exhale, shaking. Her fingers stilled beneath the covers. She stayed like that for a breath. Two. Then slowly relaxed, her hand falling away.
Helena hadn’t moved.
Helly blinked at her, illuminated by the dim glow of moonlight, flushed and wide-eyed, her chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. Her gaze was softer now. Still locked on Helena’s. Still waiting for something.
Helena didn’t know what. Her whole body felt hollowed out. Electric. A thousand thoughts screaming over each other in her mind. None of them coherent.
She didn’t know what to say. What to do. She just kept staring.
She must have failed whatever test Helly had been giving her, because after a moment, Helly sighed. Turned away. Pulled the blanket up over her shoulder like she was frustrated. Done.
And just like that, it was over.
She left Helena staring at the dark.
Left her burning.
𐂂—ڪ
Helly was older by a four-minute technicality, but Helena was older in the practical sense. More responsible. More careful. The one who always carried the extra sweater, the spare key, the first-aid kit in her backpack even when no one asked her to.
It was easy for everyone at the academy to believe Helena had always been that way—built for it. But the people who knew her now didn’t know what she used to be like. They didn’t know that she’d once been just as much of a troublemaker as Helly. That she used to be the one climbing the greenhouse scaffolding barefoot, slipping cherry pits into the estate’s irrigation vents just to see what would grow.
But Helly couldn’t stomach being scolded. Hated being the center of anyone’s disappointment. So Helena, feeling protective of her sister, started taking the blame for the both of them.
Once, when they were nine, Helly got caught drawing mustaches on the formal portraits in their father’s study. Helena had stood in front of her like a shield, marker in her own hand, and said she’d drawn all of them herself. Their father made her scrub every inch of canvas until her knuckles bled. Helly had cried harder than she did.
It kept happening. Small things, then bigger things. Over time, Helena got punished more. Flattened more. Smoothed out until only the obedient parts remained.
Her spirit dimmed. Helly’s roamed free. Of course Helly became Father’s favorite. It should’ve driven a wedge between them at the time. It didn’t. Helena loved her too much to let him be the reason they grew apart.
They’d slept in the same bed for years, even after their rooms were split. It had started as a protest, then a habit, then a comfort. Helena couldn’t fall asleep without the sound of Helly’s breathing behind her.
They used to joke that they shared a nervous system. If Helly scraped her knee, Helena limped for a day. If Helena got a stomachache, Helly wouldn’t eat. Helena always thought it was more than a joke. She still kind of did.
Now they barely spoke.
It made Helena sick to her stomach to think about it too much. So she didn’t. She kept busy. There was always enough to do. Enough protocol to memorize, enough doctrine to recite, enough order to restore. And she would be rewarded for it. For ignoring her own humanity. For pretending she didn’t ache.
Her reward was waiting for her at the end of the year: a seat she never asked for, a future she couldn’t escape. An inheritance she never wanted. A lifelong posting behind polished glass and measured smiles, dying in slow compliance.
Helly would take her trust fund and fuck off to New York for art school or whatever sounded most fun that week. Her future was open. Free. Hers. Helena didn’t know where she fit into it. If she did at all.
The wedge hadn’t come all at once. It wasn’t a rupture; not something they could point to and name. It was slower than that. More insidious. A corrosive force that crept in during the in-between moments, wearing them down grain by grain. Helena hadn’t noticed it slipping in until it was already there. It took root in the moments she’d chosen silence over solidarity, compliance over closeness. When she’d convinced herself that pleasing a father who never truly loved her mattered more than holding on to the one person who did. It hadn’t been intentional. But it had been enough.
Now, she missed her so much it made her chest ache. If she let herself think about it for more than a few seconds, it overwhelmed her. This sudden, suffocating need to be near Helly. To touch her. To hold her in ways that were intimate. Wrong. The kind of closeness she could only fantasize about in secret.
She turned the shower dial closer to red. The water was too hot. Steam curled around her face, her skin flushed raw. She stood under the spray with her forehead pressed to the tile, letting it pour over her like it could scrub her clean. It couldn’t. Her thighs still ached with heat. That same pulsing pressure low in her belly, insistent and sick. The image kept flashing behind her eyes: Helly’s parted lips, the rhythm of her breath, the exact moment their eyes met. Helena had spent the entire night trying to forget it. But it followed her.
She slammed the valve to the shower off. Got out, towelled herself dry. Thought about everything she had to do that day. Thought about anything and everything but this. She’d be gone in a month. Farther from Helly than she’d ever been. Maybe that was for the best.
She knew it wasn’t.
𐂂—ڪ
Once a month, if behavioral scores and attendance reports were deemed satisfactory across the cohort, the academy held a sanctioned “recreational night.” A single movie, pre-approved, projected in the common area of the dorms. The girls brought their own blankets. Popcorn was rationed out in wax paper cones. It was supposed to feel normal. It never quite did.
Still, the other girls liked it. It was a break in routine. A flicker of light in the dull gray rhythm.
Helena sat on the edge of her bed, already in her sleep clothes, brushing out her hair.
Helly’s voice echoed down the hallway. Helena’s stomach turned. She didn’t want to see her.
Natalie passed by the foot of her bed. “You’re not coming?”
Helena shook her head. “I’ve got a headache.”
Natalie just nodded, unfazed. Walked out the door. Helena could hear her voice in the distance a few seconds later. “No, she has a headache.”
Helena sighed. She recognized the sound of the stomping heading for her door.
“You can’t just take an advil?” Helly’s voice rounded the corner, meeting Helena’s gaze on her last syllables.
“I’m really tired.”
“This is the only time we ever get to spend together,” Helly frowned, head tilting in disbelief. “Weren’t you just accusing me of avoiding you?”
“I wasn’t accusing you. Don’t take everything so personally,” Helena rolled her eyes.
“Why are you being such a bitch right now?”
“I told you, I’m tired and I have a headache,” she lied. She didn’t want to get into it. She wanted Helly to go away so she could stop thinking. She wanted to scoop out her brain and factory reset it. Clean slate. That would be easier than dealing with whatever this was.
“Fine, I’ll stay here and take care of you. Even though you’re being a huge bitch,” she shut the door behind her.
“Don’t,” Helena put her brush on her desk, scooted back on her bed. “Just go enjoy the movie.”
“Uh, no,” Helly scoffed, jumping into Helena’s bed. “You think I give a shit about watching thinly veiled propaganda? I just miss my other half.” She draped her arm around her sister, resting her chin on her shoulder. “God, you’re freezing.”
She sighed. Helly always ran hot. She, on the other hand, felt like she teetered on the edge of hypothermia most days.
“They keep it way too cold in here. I swear they do it on purpose.”
“Just to torture us?” Helly grinned. “Yeah, that tracks.”
She could feel Helly smiling against her shoulder. The soft brush of her nose against her neck. When had her body started responding this intensely to Helly’s touch? She’d always loved being close to her. Always craved it. But it had been innocent. Innocent enough, at least.
Now her skin was prickling with awareness. Her breath too shallow. Her heart too fast.
Maybe it was the absence. The long months of distance, of silence, of watching Helly move further and further away. It had created a void, a hunger to fill it. Or maybe it was what she’d seen last night. Opening Pandora’s box.
Whatever it was, it felt wrong. She couldn’t enjoy it. Couldn’t let herself melt into Helly the way she wanted to. She just lay there. Rigid.
“You’re so tense ,” Helly pulled back to examine her face. “Are you really this stressed about going back to Lumon next month?”
“No, it’s not—” Helena paused. “Well. I mean, yes. Yes. Of course I am. You know.” She exhaled, only then realizing she’d been holding her breath. “You’re the only one who knows what it’s really like there. With Father.”
“Yeah, fucking awful. A fate worse than death. Like getting stabbed. Repeatedly—”
“Yeah, something like that,” Helena laughed, cutting her off. She admired that about Helly—how freely she hated what they both hated. How she wasn’t afraid to say it out loud. How she embraced the truth rather than swallowed it. Helena didn’t know how to do that. She was sure she wouldn’t be able to.
Helly leaned her head against the wall, her eyes flicking toward the ceiling like she was searching for a better thought. “You know they’re screening The Sea and the Cellar tonight?” she said casually. “Again.”
“Didn’t know they were so obsessed with maritime metaphor,” Helena responded, a faint smirk tugging at her mouth.
“Or maybe it’s just the part where Kier flies off into the sunset. Hard to say.”
Helena huffed a quiet laugh. She knew what this was. Helly changing the subject. Steering the moment away from its edge. She was good at that. Good at making Helena feel human again.
Helly didn’t say anything else. She just shifted, lifting the blanket and tucking it around them both like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was, at one point. Helena stiffened for a moment, but the warmth under the covers was immediate, the kind that seeped into her bones. Her whole body ached with how much she needed it.
Helly’s arm brushed hers. Then settled. They lay like that for a while, Helly spooning her. Not speaking. Breathing in tandem.
Helena tried to focus on the movie still playing down the hall, muffled voices echoing faintly through the walls. Anything but the weight of Helly’s body next to hers. The heat radiating off her skin. The way her thigh was slowly—almost imperceptibly—edging between Helena’s legs.
It wasn’t intentional. It couldn’t be.
But it was there now, firm and warm and too close, pressing lightly against the place where Helena was already too aware of herself. She held her breath.
Helly didn’t move. Didn’t say anything.
And neither did Helena. She didn’t know if she could.
Helena stayed completely still. Her hands were folded across her stomach, elbows tucked in, as if containing herself could neutralize what was happening beneath the surface. As if stillness might make it untrue.
But the warmth of Helly’s thigh didn’t go away. If anything, it pressed closer. Not forcefully, but enough to make Helena’s breath catch again.
She thought about shifting. Rolling onto her side. Creating space. But doing that would acknowledge it. Would name it.
Helly exhaled, the hot air leaving her lungs and tickling the back of Helena's neck, making her skin light up. Helena kept her eyes shut tightly. Maybe if she kept them closed, she wouldn’t feel everything so vividly. She could pretend this wasn’t happening.
Helly’s hand slid across her waist—slow, gentle, anchoring. The touch was featherlight, but it made Helena’s entire body jolt, like she’d been shocked.
“Hey,” Helly whispered, voice barely audible.
Helena didn’t answer, terrified. She just kept breathing. Shallow. Uneven.
Helly’s hand didn’t move again. Neither did her thigh.
They just stayed like that: two bodies sharing one too-small bed, one blanket, one history, one unbearable silence. Somewhere inside Helena, something cracked; something that had been pulled taut for years. She dragged herself slowly, cautiously against the solid warmth of Helly’s thigh. So slight she could have denied it even to herself.
She did it again. Again. The pressure lit something low and deep inside her—a sharp, pulsing ache that bloomed into unbearable heat. Her chest clenched with it. Her throat tightened. Her face burned. She bit her lip.
She thought maybe Helly hadn’t noticed.
She was wrong.
Helly’s hand, still resting against Helena’s waist, grabbed her hip. Quietly anchoring her. Like she’d been waiting for this. Helena’s cheeks flushed so hot she felt dizzy. Shame curdled in her gut, but her body was moving now without her permission, unmistakably rocking her core against her sister’s thigh. Each shift of her hips sent a sharp ripple of friction through her, addictive.
Helly said nothing, did nothing, but she didn’t need to. The way she was holding her was permission enough.
Helena closed her eyes, the ache building fast now. Her breaths came shallower, faster. She pressed her thighs tighter around Helly’s, chasing the next wave, the next tiny relief. She didn’t know what this was. She just knew she couldn’t stop.
And Helly—warm, silent, steady behind her—let her.
The tension was unbearable. Her thighs trembled with it, her breath catching in small, humiliating gasps. She tried to be quiet. Tried to make it look like nothing was happening. But her body gave her away—every tiny stutter of her hips, the desperate curl of her fingers in the blanket.
She was close.
The ache between her legs pulsed hot and sharp, a rhythm she couldn’t quiet. It was too much. She bit down on her lip hard enough to hurt, stifling the moan that wanted to escape. Then—with one last helpless grind of her hips, one final wave of unbearable tension—she came.
Silently. Violently. Shamefully.
Her whole body tensed, bowed, then shuddered as the feeling swept through her. Her stomach clenched. Her thighs seized. Her hands clenched the blanket in fists. She felt the wetness flood her underwear, warm and slick and impossible to hide. Her chest rose and fell in shallow bursts. Her face was burning. Her limbs felt hollow. Her skin too tight. She wanted to disappear. Melt into the mattress. Slip through the floor and vanish entirely.
Helly didn’t let go. Her hand was still there. Soft. Solid. Kind.
“Helena?”
She didn’t answer.
Helly’s hand flexed gently at her waist. “Are you okay?”
Helena forced herself to nod. It wasn’t entirely a lie. She was okay, in the sense that she was still breathing. Still alive. But she wasn’t okay, not really. And Helly knew that.
“That was…” Helly’s voice trailed off. “You can tell me to shut up if you want.”
Helena let out a breath that might’ve been a laugh. “I won’t.”
A pause. “Did you want that to happen?”
Helena’s mouth opened. Closed. She didn’t know what to say. Yes. No. God, yes.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” she whispered.
Helly’s voice was even softer now. “But you didn’t stop.”
Helena’s eyes finally opened. She stared into the dark, blank wall in front of her, as if it might offer absolution. “You let me keep going.”
“I didn’t want you to stop,” Helly admitted.
Helena blinked. Swallowed. Her voice was barely audible. “This is wrong.”
“I know,” Helly said. “I don’t care.”