[attr="class","illeana"]

[attr="class","illeana b"]

[attr="class","illeana i"]she says nothing at first... merely pulls her in for another squeeze of comfort before finally releasing the hold she has on eva's body.

there, she opts for taking the head professor's hand in hers. warmth spreads from illeana's fingertips to eva's, consistent and empathetic in the face of a reality shattering.

"you're not replaceable, eva, not by a longshot."

truly, she isn't. Eva Morales has a certain quality to her that is hard to find. the blind optimism, sunshine demeanor, and ferocity to protect and support her loved ones... illeana has only seen it in one other person: ollie morales. she swears, now having know both siblings for a length of time, that it is simply a genetic trait they have received from their parents.

"people make incredibly stupid decisions without thinking of what they are losing. it's unfortunate and it's horrible to subject another person to, but trying to make sense of it will not change what has already been done."

she squeezes eva's hand as she continues, gentle but unwavering in her support.

"it is absolutely his loss. it will hurt for a while, perhaps too long, really, but it will always be his loss and his mistake for ever doing this to the woman he loves."

Eva Morales

A series of sharp sniffs forces back whatever tries to come out, including her own grief. It is his loss, but it is also hers. A future she dreamed of was now shattered and in the distance she could only see herself: alone, shrouded in dark uncertainty where there used to once be light and a framework for something that could have been truly special.

“He is incredibly stupid sometimes,” she takes a blind jab at some dry humor, forcing her pink lips to twitch into the shadow of a smile and she returns the comforting squeeze of Illeana’s hand.

Eva lets the last statement die in silence. The fresh wounds festered with doubt if he ever really did love her. You don’t do that to someone you love. Maybe he did once upon a time, but not anymore.

“But you’re right . . . Can’t change what has been done,” she lets Illeana’s hand fall with one final squeeze. It reaches for the glass of whiskey she abandoned on the counter, “But I would like to forget about it for a while,” even if just for a few hours. She could use some relief from the strain of grief, “Will you help me?” she raises her glass with a more genuine smile, a subtle spark of hope ignited by their friendship.

---

illeana reyes