Isadora froze in her bed as Quin looked over at her, shy after his bold words. She did not meet his eyes, feeling awkward under his gaze. This she did not understand, for she had felt so comfortable around him for the past couple of weeks, and she had also nursed her crush on him, and so had been quietly eager for this moment. Guilt, again, washed over Isadora as images of Rudolph swam over her vision. The images dissolved into salty tears that lurched down her cheeks in harsh ridges. She was sobbing now, and covering her face with the thick knit blanket that had been pooled around her knees.
Quin looked away, staring hard at the floor, before leaning over to brush his hand across her cheek, bringing it back to his own face. His hand was streaked with tears and he rubbed them onto his own cheek, showing her that he shared her confusion and pain. Neither understood why they felt pain, they only knew it was there. Quin leaned over once more to tuck the blanket around isadora, under her chin, before moving over to his own bed on the other side of the room.
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