With apologies to Aveza, for throwing poor Hana in the middle of a lover's spat.

(Oh, I'd also like to remind you guys that Amy and Izzy were making improvements the last time we saw them. I thought their greeting might not make sense if anyone has forgotten that).

Beware, folks. The drama llamas are stampeding!

Summer: Wires Crossed

Izzy descended the spiral staircase connecting his home's second story to a hallway on the ground level. His feet landed on the worn depression at the center of each step. Books were piled on the outside edge of each one, forcing traffic away from the treacherous uneven spots in the old wood.

As always, something smelled incredible. There were no scented candles, oil diffusers, or wall plug ins in the Williams household. They would only interfere with the aromas of his mother's cooking.

The family rose early, even on the weekends, and both of Izzy's parents were in the kitchen. His father was reading at the table while his mother worked at the stove, humming off key. Izzy glanced around her elbow and saw thick pieces of bread browning on one skillet. Meat and eggs sizzled on another.

"It looks good," he said. Food didn't have the same pull on Izzy that it exerted on most people, and he wasn't hungry, but he would eat until his mother seemed content.

She glanced over her shoulder and smiled. "Good morning, Izzy."

"Good morning." Izzy poured himself a glass of orange juice and sat beside his father, who gave him a distracted smile over the edge of a business magazine.

Izzy stared around the kitchen, feeling his way towards complete awareness. His days began in a fog caused by low blood pressure. He blinked at the familiar space, the white walls with their decorative molding, the pine wood floors, the forest green curtains. He yawned, scowled, and tried to force his brain into gear. Coffee and light conversation with his father nudged the process forward, but he was only just rising to awareness when his mother announced that breakfast was ready. Izzy and his father stood to help her transfer food to the table.

Izzy chewed listlessly as his parents chatted. The kitchen was cavernous, and their voices seemed to echo away into nothing around him. "Izzy?"

"Yes?" His eyes snapped into focus on his mother's face. The worry lines around her dark eyes were its only signs of age.

She smiled, but those lines didn't disperse. "Do you have any plans today?"

Izzy stared down at his French toast. The table was covered with ways to accessorize the bread, including sugars, butter, and syrups. The options didn't especially appeal to him, but he reached for whatever was handy, trying to delay his reply. No one was on campus during summer break, so Izzy came home every weekend. But his workload restricted him to his room, and his parents had never been fond of that.

He was selecting a syrup flavor when he remembered that he had an answer, for once. He smiled and sat the dispenser down without pouring anything. "I'm going to have someone over this afternoon."

His parents looked up from their plates, and Izzy stared back, unsure what to make of their interest. His mother began to wring her hands, but she was beaming. "Izzy! I wish you had told me! What does Amy like to eat? I might have time to put something together for dinner-"

His father laughed, falling into rare animation. "Relax, Yeva. We'll take her out tonight, and you can grill her about her favorite foods for tomorrow." He turned to Izzy. "I assume she'll stay for at least one night? Since she's coming from Ohio? She's welcome to stay for as long as she'd like."

Izzy slid towards the back of his chair. Although he didn't understand their enthusiasm, he sensed that he was about to disappoint his parents. "Um- It's one of my students. They're coming for private tutoring."

The excitement drained from both of their faces. "Oh..." Yeva's hands slid to her lap. "Well... Your friends are always welcome here."

Izzy's lip twitched. "I wouldn't say friend. She can be trying."

"She?" The worry lines reappeared on his mother's face, creasing her forehead as well. "But dear, when will we meet Amy? Is there some reason why you don't want to bring her over?"

The muscles in his back tightened, drawing his shoulders towards his ears. "No reason," he muttered. "There hasn't been an opportunity. She's like Joe when it comes to school, and now she's away for the summer."

"But you have told her that she's welcome here." His father didn't phrase it as a question, which was fortunate for Izzy. He was able to move the conversation along with a grunt.

He spent the rest of the meal and the cleanup encouraging talk of anything but himself, then escaped to his bedroom. It was a huge space with worn hardwood floors and white walls, whose intricate crown molding provided the only decoration. A queen bed stood against one wall, flanked by nightstands. A long, plain desk stretched along the length of another. The third housed a closet and a door to his bathroom. The last held the room's entrance and three enormous bookcases filled with texts on math, science, and computers. The middle of the room was bare, a median separating the useful areas.

Perhaps it had something to do with the room's size and vaulted ceilings, but it was always chilly, and any chance sounds rolled through the space like soft thunder, echoing and fading. The effect could be ghostly at night.

Izzy shut the door behind him and sat on one of his two desk chairs. His desktop computer was at school, so he booted up his laptop. He tried to focus on his latest program, but he kept glancing to the side.

Sighing, he turned himself around, so that he faced his bed. His foot began to tap against the hardwood. It's just a piece of furniture. There's no reason for it to bother me like this.

The logic was sound, but logic intrinsically does not allow for the more human elements. Izzy stared at the bed, shook his head, and exploded from the chair. He almost ran for the bathroom, where he turned on the water in his glass shower stall.

His tossed his clothing around in his haste to bathe. The sound of falling water echoed, bouncing off of white and black tiles. He slipped into the stall and sighed with relief as the hot stream worked down his back.

Izzy usually began showers by washing his hair, but he skipped straight to cleaning his skin. He scrubbed and scrubbed, turning himself pink as a newborn, then started all over again.

It's a bed. It's just a bed. Izzy cursed aloud when the thought broke through his focus on cleaning. His eyes darted to the cabinet housing his pair of sinks. Bold blue passed through Izzy's brain, and he remembered that one of those drawers contained a half-used box of condoms and a bottle of lubricant with a sticky nozzle.

"Shit." Izzy's arms went slack, and he pressed his forehead against the tile. Why hadn't he thrown those things out?

Without bidding it, he pictured his bed. I should have gotten rid of that bedding set, too. No matter how many times the sheets were washed, Izzy would remember what had happened between them, and what happened after.

But Izzy had never shown any interest in his surroundings. He was sure his mother would understand why he wanted new bedding, and Izzy couldn't stand to lead her thoughts in that direction. Besides, he wasn't sure that new blankets and sheets would solve the problem.

And he wasn't sure if he could stand having Amy lay beside him where Shauna once had.

You're overreacting. Izzy seized his shampoo and scrubbed it into his hair. You're hardly the only person with a disastrous ex. People deal with this all the time.

But those words weren't any more helpful than the others Izzy had invoked in attempts to soothe himself. While he was closer to accepting the wounds from his last relationship, he hadn't healed from them.

And he was eons away from being able to invite Amy home.

A Few Hours Later

Hana shut the car door, tipped her head back, and cursed. She was standing on Izzy's circular driveway and staring at his house. It was a huge, old structure in the more Gothic Victorian flavor. She couldn't believe that someone so obsessed with technology could live here.

The house was about ninety minutes away from campus, a drive straight out from a metropolitan area to a cow infested farmland. She was tempted to call Izzy and scream at him for sending her to a random address as a joke, except that Izzy didn't have that sort of humor. Besides, she was parked right next to his car. This had to be the place.

Although the architecture of the house spoke of age, it was in perfect repair, at least from the outside. And that kind of restoration cost serious cash. I didn't know Izzy's family had this kind of money. Why is he driving such an old, basic car? Hana frowned and considered, but she couldn't learn anything by standing out here. She threw on her backpack, climbed the porch steps, and knocked on the door.

A woman with long, mousy brown hair answered. Hana stared, unable to process her appearance. She had a heart-shaped face, warm eyes, and a lovely complexion that probably removed years from her appearance.

In short, she looked nothing like Izzy. "Welcome," the woman said with a smile. "You must be Hana. I'm Yeva, Izzy's mother."

"Nice to meet you." Hana took hold of the hand reaching for hers and shook. She was ushered into a foyer and through a hallway, where she paused.

The walls were covered with photos, mostly showing the same three people. Hana choked down a laugh when she saw an image of Izzy. He was so young, probably about five, and wearing a suit. His face was heavy with baby fat, and he was scowling at the camera, eyes dark beneath a heavy brow.

Mon Dieu, what a funny-looking child. Hana would have given anything to steal that photo so Tai could see it. He would probably wet himself laughing at it. Izzy's downright handsome now, compared to that.

The hall led to what looked like sitting rooms and parlors, honest to God parlors, before feeding into a kitchen. The scents of a meal lingered, making Hana's stomach rumble. She wasn't hungry a second ago, but these smells were right out of a gourmet restaurant.

Hana shook her head and focused on Yeva, who was texting. "I told him you're here," she said, pocketing the phone. "He'll be right down. Would you like something to drink?"

"No, thanks."

Hana stepped further into the room and noticed a man sitting at the table, reading a magazine. He glanced up and smiled faintly. "This is my husband, Sam," Yeva said.

"It's a pleasure," he murmured, and Hana responded in kind. Izzy's father had a long face, dark eyes, glasses, and black hair, lightly silvered at the temples. While his eyes verged on black, like his son's, they were lighter in color and shaped differently.

I guess red hair is recessive, right? Hana had conjured a nebulous image of Izzy's parents during the car ride, and her picture featured two redheaded, awkward, visibly nerdy people. Instead, she encountered a beautiful woman with a kindly, warm demeanor, and a mild, nondescript man.

Yeva initiated a few polite exchanges until her son appeared in the hall. "Hana," he said, nodding in greeting. "I trust you found us without difficulty."

"Yep." Hana fell into step with him as he led her back down the hall. "I can't believe you live in the middle of nowhere like this. What's your internet connection like?"

Izzy sighed. "Tragic, I'm afraid. I'd rather not discuss it." Hana snickered, then paused when she saw the spiral staircase.

"You're joking," she said, staring at the ornate hand rail. Izzy sighed again.

"I'm afraid not. I'd prefer something more modern, but my mother loves this house. Mind the grooves in the center of each step."

"How old is this place?" Hana squinted up the circular tunnel surrounding the staircase and whistled.

"Very." The wood groaned beneath Izzy's feet, as if in affirmation.

"Mm-hmm." Hana gripped the railing. The curves of the staircase were doing something strange to her vision. "What's with all of the cookbooks?"

"They're my mother's. She's trying to block off the uneven part of the steps."

"Wow." There were about six books on each step, which added up to a million recipes. "Has she seriously read all of these?"

She twitched when Izzy laughed. His voice echoed off the circular walls, crashing back in on them. Hana froze, foolishly fearing something like an avalanche. Who knew, maybe the plaster would fall, or something.

"What's so funny?" she snapped.

"I suppose it isn't funny, really... She's read them all, yes. She wrote seven of them."

"Seriously?" Hana scaled the top step and followed Izzy down a hallway. "What does your mother do, then?"

"She writes for cooking magazines, reviews restaurants, and publishes recipe books. And, in anticipation of your followup question, my father is a businessman."

Izzy opened a door for her, and she stepped inside. It was a bedroom that resembled his dorm: plain, housing nothing but required furniture, textbooks, and computer stuff.

"Geez, Izzy," Hana said. "You could at least put a picture of Amy in here, or something. Maybe a periodic table? A poster of the Linux penguin?" She grinned and nudged him with her elbow. He slid out of range and directed her to one of his two desk chairs.

"I assume we're picking up where we left off last time," he said, opening his laptop.

Hana scowled as she fell into the other chair. "C'mon, Izzy. You don't always have to get straight to business. How have you been? How's Amy?"

A thick, red eyebrow inched up. "Your father pays me to tutor you, Hana. It's unfair to fill the session with chatter."

"What, are you going to set a timer and kick me out after two hours?" He said nothing, but something in the tightening of his expression answered in the affirmative.

Hana froze, caught between amusement and annoyance. She crossed her arms, but a small snort of laughter slipped out. "Izzy, honestly. I get being nerdy. You've met my father; I live with one. But there's a difference between being socially awkward and socially..."

She hesitated, weighing a few words. None of them perfectly captured her thoughts, and she leaned forward and furrowed her brow.

Izzy cracked a tiny smile. "Antagonistic?" he suggested.

Hana's forehead nearly pitched into her knees as she laughed. "Yes!" she cried. "That's perfect! So you know?"

His tiny grin went tart. "I have achieved self-awareness, yes."

A spike of glee shot through Hana, loosening her tongue like a shot. "Haha! Sassy nerd! See, you're a fun guy. You should let people enjoy that."

Izzy's expression shifted from impassive to distant. "Mm. I trust you've completed the readings I assigned?"

Hana clenched her jaw, trying to hold back a snappish retort. While she understood the importance of accepting people as they are, Izzy's standoffishness was growing hurtful, especially as they spent more time together. She spoke sharply, relieving the wound with a show of irritation. "It's too bad you didn't get more of your mother's temperament."

He didn't respond or look away from the computer. Hana slunk back in her chair, searching for another angle. There had to be a chink in the wall around Izzy, a way past his indifference. Hana sometimes tried to convince herself to give up on befriending Izzy, but she liked being around nerdy people. Besides, pestering him was too much fun to quit.

She poked the back of his shoulder, and it twitched inward, away from her fingertip. "It's too bad you don't have more of her looks, too. She's beautiful."

She expected this to irritate him, but he murmured, "That's true," and kept typing. Scowling, Hana switched directions.

"Actually, you don't really look like your dad, either. I wonder where the red hair comes from?"

"I wouldn't know." Izzy's voice lost all emotional input, meaning that he was probably focused on his work. Hana kept talking anyway, just to push his buttons.

"Does anyone else in your family have red hair? It's such a nice, dark red, too." She petted his head, and he turned, finally focusing on her.

He grasped her wrist just long enough to drop it far from himself. "I've never met a blood relative. Don't touch, please."

Hana's arm froze mid-drop. "Huh? But- your parents?"

Izzy blinked, sighed, and rubbed his temples. "I was adopted as an infant. So no, I do not resemble my parents, neither in body nor personality."

Color blazed in Hana's cheeks. Her smart mouth caused trouble sometimes, but she usually laughed it off. For once, she was mortified to her marrow. "I'm so sorry. I, I had no idea-"

He watched her babble for a while, then slowly smiled. Hana paused, struggling to interpret the expression.

"It's alright," he said evenly. "I have no memory of any family save the one I have, and the odds of being placed in a better home are miniscule. I'm no longer sensitive about it."

A wise portion of Hana's brain suggested nodding and changing the subject, but somehow, that wasn't what happened. "No longer sensitive...?"

Izzy's eyes narrowed. "Shall we get to work?"

"You really don't mind?" Hana asked. She knew she wouldn't be able to concentrate if she was focused on her slip-up.

Izzy shrugged. "Not at all. Being adopted doesn't impact my self-identity." Hana searched his face for evidence of strain, but all she read was faint amusement.

Wow. I guess it's really not a problem for him. Her embarrassment faded, and her relief was such that she agreed to work. She opened her backpack and fought to focus on his lesson.

About an hour later, a ringing sound pulled Hana's attention away from her work. She tipped her head curiously at Izzy and his laptop, which was chiming like a phone.

"Ah," he said, pursing his lips. "Forgive me. Amy's calling." He checked the time on his display. "Thank goodness, she must have finally taken a day off." He offered an awkward, apologetic smile. "Would you mind if I...?"

"Not even a little." Hana's brain felt battered and stretched, like a kneaded ball of dough. A break was welcome, especially when it made Izzy all smiley and self-conscious. She rolled her chair closer to his in anticipation of a good show.

He accepted the call with a tap of his finger. Hana leaned over to peek at the screen. Amy was sitting on a bed in a bright dorm room. A slow, sweet smile lifted her lips. Her finger rose and trailed over her screen, an automatic attempt to touch Izzy's face.

Damn, Izzy. Hana knew the look of a besotted woman when she saw it. She was tempted to smack his back, but she resolved to stay out of the conversation unless invited into it. "Hello," Izzy said. "I'm glad to see that you're resting. You still seem tired, if you don't mind my saying so."

"Oh, I'm fine. But it's the law that workers need at least one day off in ten, so I can only be paid for so many overtime hours." Amy smiled and shook her head. "You should be the last person to scold someone for working too much. Are you resting?"

Hana stifled a snicker as Izzy's brow bounced up. "Ah- no," he admitted. "I'm tutoring Hana, actually." He tilted the laptop to the side, including Hana in the webcam's range. She sat up straighter and waved.

Amy blinked at her, then laughed. "Poor Hana! Go easy on her, Izzy."

Hana leaned forward, as if proximity would cut Izzy out of the conversation. "I don't think he knows the meaning. He's a nightmare," she said in a stage whisper. "He won't move on to a new topic until he's tested me on the old one from every angle."

"Well, that's good, right?" Hana grinned, amused by how quickly Amy was jumping sides. "He wants to make sure you understand. Izzy's a great teacher."

"I didn't say he wasn't," Hana said, holding her palms up. "But that doesn't mean he can't also be a nightmare."

Humor brightened Amy's expression. She flashed a brilliant smile at her boyfriend. "Aren't you going to defend yourself?"

"I'll stay out of this, if you don't mind." Izzy was trying to keep his expression neutral, but affection was warming his eyes, breaking his typical mask. Ungh. Who knew awkward people in love could be so stinking cute?! Hana wanted to walk out of the room and leave them to it, but she had no desire to miss out. Besides, what would she do in the hallway?

The conversation went on for a while, and Hana kept to the background until there was a lull. "Hey Amy," she said, voicing a sudden thought. "You know, I spent the first ten minutes of Izzy's tutoring trying to figure out which of his parents he looks like. I had no idea he was adopted!"

The smiles evaporated from both faces. Hana stared from Izzy to Amy, startled and confused by the sudden change in emotional climate. Izzy was stiff and frowning, and Amy's eyes progressed from large to enormous as the lids flared back.

A horrible pause stretched on and on, and Hana was about to crack and start shouting questions when Amy finally spoke. "I... what?"

Oh, shit. Hana rounded on Izzy, smacking him with the weight of another questioning female gaze. He shrank back into his chair and tilted himself towards Amy. His elbow fell on the desk between the computer and Hana, blocking her view.

"It's not important," he said quietly. Hana winced and reached for Izzy, wanting to prevent him from causing further damage. Her hand landed on his elbow, and Amy's glance zeroed in on the contact.

Shit, shit, shit! Hana recoiled like a child receiving a shot. Her panic and concern for Amy morphed into fury towards Izzy, and she glared at his back. How could he not have told her?!

Wisely, Izzy grabbed the laptop and turned it away from Hana. "Truly," he said, tilting the screen closer. "I haven't mentioned it because I don't make a distinction between biological and adoptive parents, not anymore. It's not something I think about."

Hana couldn't see either of their faces, but the long pause preceding Amy's reply spoke volumes. She felt her body shrinking in on itself, an unconscious response to her desire to disappear.

"So you're... You're not on campus?"

"Hm? No, we're-"

Izzy paused, and Hana swallowed a groan. We're in his bedroom. Meeting at Izzy's home hadn't seemed like a problem, but there were obviously a few poisonous layers of misunderstandings between Izzy and Amy. Izzy finally finished his sentence. His voice wavered so much that Hana exploded from the chair, stormed across the room, and pried the laptop from his hands.

"I'm so sorry, Amy," she said. "I had no idea that you didn't know about the tutoring. I'll leave right now."

"Oh, no." Hana cringed as Amy forced a wavering smile. "It's not- It's not the tutoring. I just, uh- I wondered- What, what do you think of his mom?"

"Huh?" Hana's brain crumpled and warped, like a trash bag caught in a twister. She glanced beyond the display at Izzy, desperate for information, but he was staring at his bed like he wanted to set it ablaze with his eyes.

"Is she n-nice?" Amy added. "Izzy speaks so highly of her. I really want… Want to meet her." Hana's legs went weak, and she retreated to her chair, collapsing on it before she fell on the floor.

She hasn't met his parents. She hasn't been here before. Mon Dieu, boy. How could you be so stupid?! That horrible plastic smile still dominated Amy's face. It might have been Hana's imagination, since the webcam image lacked high definition, but she thought she saw redness and wetness rimming Amy's eyes.

Hana didn't need Ryo's psychology classes to recognize pain when she saw it, but she didn't understand why Amy wasn't expressing it. She made another paltry attempt at small talk, and Hana took pity on her.

"I'll leave," she said gently. "I'm sorry." She rose and thrust the computer into Izzy's hands.

"Oh- No- I'm leaving anyway. I, uh, Dyani- So, yeah. I'll... talk to you later?"

Izzy angled his body around the computer, as if to surround the girl on the display. "Amy, please. Wait-" A cheerful tone sounded as the call ended. The chat window closed, but Hana could still see Amy's face, muscles furrowed with hurt, eyes shining and irritated with the prelude to tears.

"You jerk!" she shouted, bounding towards Izzy. "Idiot! Ass! How dare you?!"

She expected a fight. In her experience, fire bred fire, but Izzy remained impassive. Hana's anger spiked, fueled by his callousness, and she shifted her weight, preparing to throw it all behind a slap.

But as she drew near, she noticed how much his hands were shaking. The laptop slid in his grasp, and Hana jumped towards it. She grabbed the computer as it toppled.

Hana squinted at Izzy's face, searching for some indication of his thoughts. His expression was as remote as usual, but his pupils were dilated and unfocused. "She was devastated, wasn't she?" he asked the air above Hana's head.

Well, damn. Hana grabbed his desk chair and rolled it behind him. "Sit," she ordered, pushing down on his shoulders. He obeyed, dropped his elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands.

Hana hesitated, hovering awkwardly over him. His shoulders began to shake, and she nodded grimly, placed his computer on his desk, and returned with her chair and his tissue box.

Izzy sat back up, waved the box away, and pulled his phone from his pocket. Hana winced when his call went to voice mail.

"Helloooo!" the phone chirped. "You've reached Amy Donahue. Sing your song at the beep!"

The voice seemed impossibly young and bright, and Hana realized that the recording was very old. Izzy stared at the phone and wiped his wrist across his eyes. "She was twelve when she recorded that," he murmured. "I believe she mentioned something about a Spider Man movie."

Hana's eyes pinched shut. "Izzy. She's… one of a kind. You know that, right?"

His eyes rolled away from Amy's contact picture. "I'm aware. But I keep- I didn't intend to hurt her." His hand rose, twirling in a frantic circle before resting on his brow. "I never- I'm trying- How, how do I always- Statistically, you'd think I'd do the right thing on occasion- At least sometimes-"

Hana's foot began tapping the floor. She had never seen Izzy like this, babbling and wounded. Stranger still, his expression didn't match his voice. Mostly, he seemed dazed. What was she supposed to do?

"Um... You seem pretty worried. Are you two going to be alright?" she asked.

Izzy shuddered. "I... I don't know. Things haven't been... ideal between us lately."

Yikes. Hana fell back into her chair, closed her eyes, and focused on her memories of Izzy and Amy. Most of her interactions with Izzy were tutoring sessions, but she joined his friend group from time to time, mostly to pester him and Tai. Her impression of Izzy and Amy as a couple was hazy. They never seemed to touch one another, and Amy was always vying for Izzy's attention. Hana had written off their relationship has the product of mutual nerd quirks a long time ago, adorable, but beyond her ability to understand.

"Oh, shit!" she cried. "I just remembered that time Rochelle thought you were my boyfriend- No one ever said that Amy was your girlfriend- God damn it! What if she thinks there's something between us, on top of everything else? If she stops liking me, it's your ass on the line, Izzy!"

"Something between us?" he echoed, looking bemused. "There's no chance of her thinking that. It's too... far-fetched."

Hana wanted to ask what he meant, but this wasn't the time. "A girl can believe anything when she's hurt badly enough," she said through gritted teeth. "Believe me."

"What should I do?" Izzy asked. "And what exactly did I do wrong?"

A fresh wave of fury shook Hana's tiny frame. "What do you mean, what did you do? You brought another girl- me!- home before your girlfriend, took me to your bedroom before she ever saw it, and without warning her, and told me things you haven't told her- and it was kind of a big thing, Izzy! If she's got any insecurities- and we all do- then you trampled all over them!"

Izzy's eyes pinched shut. "Why didn't you tell me that I shouldn't invite you here? I didn't realize it was problematic."

Hana threw her hands up. "Don't blame this on me, Izzy! If I had any idea that Amy's never been here or met your parents, or that she didn't know you were tutoring me at home, and that you're adopted, then there's no way I'd be here! This is all a stupid failure to communicate and act on your part!"

Izzy rubbed the insides of his wrists against his eyes. "I didn't think," he said. "None of that occurred to me. It's just another oversight, just a few poorly-timed words, but it's causing so much damage..."

"Another?" Hana repeated. "Damn it, Izzy. What have you been doing?"

He braced his elbows against his knees and leaned forward, facing the floor. "Hurting her at every opportunity.

"No kidding!" she shrieked. Frustration broke through the soporific effects of her pity. "Why haven't you taken her home or told her about being adopted?" While there were no hard rules about when to do what with your sweetheart, it seemed like Izzy was holding back on Amy.

He sucked a wet breath through his teeth. "Because I'm a foolish ass."

Hana tsked and smacked the back of his head. "Spare me," she snapped. "You know she's probably crying right now!"

"I know! I know."

"So stop wallowing and start fixing it!" Hana shoved his chair aside and grabbed his laptop. Before Izzy could react, she pulled up a travel website. "You haven't visited her this summer, right? Where is she, again?"

"Do you think I'd still be welcome?" He was trying to contact Amy, calling and texting. Hana startled when she heard the waver in his voice.

"Izzy... Is it- Are things really that bad between you guys?"

The phone bobbed as his hands jerked. "It's... been a difficult summer."

Hana watched the redhead for a long time. His breathing was audible from a yard away, and his hands were trembling. "I'm so pissed at you," Hana muttered, thinking aloud, "but I want to help. How can we get you on a plane today?"

Izzy breathed in deeply, sat up, and reached for the tissue box. Hana glanced away as he wiped his face. "Train," he said. "And I'm afraid it won't be easy." His hands interlocked into a giant fist. "I'll need to persuade my employer and the professor I TA for to give me a few days off, pack, purchase tickets, and..."

He stared helplessly at her for a beat, then looked away. "I... I don't know what to say to her when I arrive."

Hana's heart and lungs constricted. She placed a palm over her chest, willing it to relax. "I think I may know some of the things she needs from you," she whispered. A blockage formed in her throat, and she cleared it away, scowled, and added, "But I'm only going to help you if you promise that you're sincerely trying to do better."

Izzy frowned, looking half puzzled and half cautious. "I appreciate the offer, but you and Amy are two very different women. Forgive me, but... How could you know what she needs?"

Hana's instinct was to be angry, but she knew he had a point. She unclenched her jaw and said, "I dated a distant boy once. I know the difficulties. And you can decide what parts of my advice apply to your relationship."

His eyes widened. "I, I see. I- I assume you'd rather I refrain from asking-"

"Can you spare the time?" Hana asked, lifting an eyebrow. Izzy nodded.

"Right. I'll make a few calls while you..."

Hana pulled his laptop closer and booted up a word processor. "I'm going to write you some advice. Good luck," Hana said. "This could be really important, Izzy. Don't let them talk you out of it."

Izzy stood and walked away, and Hana grabbed the hem of shirt. She knew that proud, independent people like Izzy could sometimes take negative stances towards connecting deeply with other people, and that was probably one of his greatest hurdles here. "It's okay, you know," she said quietly. "To put her first. It doesn't make you less of a man or less of a thinker or less... Less of anything. It's okay. It's okay to be really close to someone. It really is."

A bulge slid down Izzy's throat, and he froze beside her. Hana blinked up at him, confused by his hovering, and his arm moved stiffly towards her. His fingertips briefly brushed her shoulder. "Thank you," he muttered.

Then he placed a phone call and walked around his room, opening drawers and tossing things on his bed as he spoke.

Meanwhile

Amy backed away from the computer and stumbled onto her bed. She buried her face in her pillow, shutting everything out. It afforded her a sense of privacy, a luxury after being mortified in front of witnesses, but it also locked her in with her thoughts.

Why didn't he tell me he's adopted? I can see not wanting to mention it, but then... Why tell Hana?

A bitter combination of anger and jealousy spread through her, and she pressed herself further into the pillow. It was hard to breathe, but she couldn't bear to bare her face, not even to an empty room.

I've never met his parents- adoptive parents, apparently? I've never been in his bedroom. He's never even hinted that I should come over, and now there's some other girl- Some other girl-!

Her phone played Izzy's ringtone, the Theme of Love from Final Fantasy IV. Amy sat up so fast that her back cracked and fixed the device with a flaying expression. She seized the phone, turned it off, and tossed it towards the foot of the bed.

She wasn't ready to talk to Izzy yet, partially due to her wounded feelings. But mostly, she feared that she'd say something she'd regret if she didn't calm down first.

Breathing deeply, Amy wiped the tears from her face and stared at the ceiling. Think. Izzy and Hana- that's just silly. They're good people. Hana wouldn't hurt someone like that, and Izzy... No. He's a good man. He makes mistakes, but not malicious ones. Right?

She tried to talk herself out of her suspicions, but her emotions were framing their own argument alongside her conscious one. Memories surfaced, reminding her of how cute they looked together. There were many categories to describe beauty, and Hana fell into the coveted "hot" group. She was slim, graceful, and mindful of her appearance, tending to it with care and skill. Her features were striking, with those flashing green eyes, that sweet, upturned nose, and playful, smirking lips.

And, somehow worst of all, she was shorter than Izzy, and looked perfectly natural walking beside him.

Color flooded Amy's face as she compared those images to ones of herself. Her features were tolerable, but plain. She was too tall, too fat, clumsy, awkward. She talked too much, she talked too little, she laughed too loud and smiled too big, and what did she even think Izzy could see in her to start with?

Her hands went numb, reduced to masses of useless, prickling flesh. Amy realized that she was hyperventilating, wreaking havoc on the chemical composition of her blood. She sat up and placed her head between her thighs, forcing deep, even breaths. Feeling returned to her hands in painful stages, but her brain was still reeling.

Izzy isn't cheating. He wouldn't- he couldn't. I know him. But...

Amy sprawled on her back and bit her lower lip. Things were going so well at one point... She lifted her shaking hand and watched her ring glint in the sunlight pouring through the window. Then things changed, and he started favoring his work over me. I told myself that he was just busy, and this isn't permanent, but... What if he's just losing interest in me?

She sucked in a breath that immediately slid out as a groan. Pain blasted up her wrists as her fingers, still shifting out of numbness, gripped the comforter.

Izzy wouldn't cheat, but... What if he's starting to like someone else? What if all of his forgetfulness lately is just him thinking of someone else? What if he's waiting for me to dump him? Is that why he encouraged me to leave, and why he won't visit?

Her throat convulsed, and she swallowed the wrong way. She coughed uncontrollably, and by the time the fit passed, her face was red, her throat was raw, and she was crying. Over time, her tears ended, replaced by a chilled stillness. She stared straight ahead, eyes glazed, brain battered and non-responsive. It was almost like being asleep, except that she was exquisitely aware of the sticky fluids on her pillow, the stinging around her eyes, and the weak, reedy sounds her throat produced when she breathed.

She was near the gates of sleep when a knock startled her into awareness. Amy scrambled to her feet and stared at the door. She was so surprised that she almost forgot how to use it, and she stalled by the threshold, like Gandalf struggling with the password outside of Moria.

What's the elvish word for friend? She pictured herself in Middle Earth, where problems could be blasted by magic triggered with pretty words. Mellon.

Amy scrubbed her face with her palms, knowing that it wouldn't remove the signs of crying. She glanced through the peephole and gasped.

"Dyani!" she cried, throwing the door open. "Oh stars, I'm so sorry. I forgot- and damn it, I turned my phone off!"

Dyani's dark, steady eyes fell heavily on her face. Amy flushed. She watched Dyani weigh the evidence and come to the obvious conclusion.

"Would you like company," she asked calmly, "or would you rather be alone?"

Amy gripped the door frame for balance. There was no outpouring of concern, no demand to know what happened. If Amy wanted to, she could walk right out of this, apparently with no damage to the relationship, if she was reading Dyani's expression properly.

Amy glanced over her shoulder at the rumpled bed. If she stayed here, she'd probably end up crying again, and what good would that do? She already felt sore and nauseous.

"I'd like to get out," Amy said slowly. She gazed at the clear blue sky beyond the window. "Outside, I mean. But only if it's just us."

"The usual place," Dyani agreed. "I'll come back in ten minutes. I need to pick up some things."

Amy was tempted to ask what Dyani suddenly needed, but she couldn't summon the interest. She nodded and took the opportunity to clean herself up.

A few minutes later, they were on their way.

Author's Notes: By the way, young Amy is copying MJ's voice mail message from… I think it was Spider Man 2.

Sorry for that drama bomb. The good news is that Hana was there to do what she does best- incite action. Hopefully, Izzy's ass will soon be on a train.

Can't wait for this arc to end, so we can see what the other kids are doing…! Tai, Joe, where are you guys…? Still, it's pretty important stuff for these two kids. Thanks for your patience! Thanks for reading :D