Melting the Ice 03

Story by Sophiie93 The steady ticking of the classroom clock was the only sound as students worked through their exercises. Elliot moved slower than usual, his mind still replaying his conversation with Rhea. Every so often, his gaze flickered toward her, lingering on the pigtails he’d drawn—now real, and tied just as he’d imagined. Rhea hunched over her notes, shifting uncomfortably in her seat as if in pain. After a moment, both her faces lifted toward the clock, and she sighed. Then, slowly, her right head turned—meeting Elliot’s eyes. They stared at each other for a beat before she looked away. "Huh. That’s new. She didn’t give you a disgusted look," Seraphine whispered. "Not sure indifference is an improvement," Elliot muttered, scribbling in his notebook. Before he could finish, Rhea abruptly stood, slung her bag over her shoulder, and strode out of the room. Elliot waited, tension coiling in his chest. "You haven’t finished a single exercise since she left. Just go check on her—you’re useless here anyway," Seraphine said, nudging him. When he hesitated, she gave his back a firm pat. "I’ll cover for you. Go." "Thanks," Elliot muttered, gathering his things. The halls were deserted, the campus eerily quiet with class in session. He moved carefully, rehearsing excuses in case he found her—until a sharp, agitated voice cut through the silence. "—I don’t freaking care!" Rhea’s words echoed down the corridor. "I never asked you to invest that money! I said no, and it’s my damn decision, so back off!" Elliot froze as he rounded the corner. Rhea stood with her phone clutched in one hand, her right head still yelling while her left one noticed him. The fury on both faces was unmistakable. "You’d know my schedule if you actually gave a damn!" her right head snapped. Her left head locked onto Elliot, eyes flashing a silent warning. He raised his hands in apology and retreated, heading for the courtyard instead. By the time students began flooding the halls, Elliot was perched on the edge of a flowerbed, lost in thought. Then Rhea appeared, a juice can in hand. Her four eyes swept the area—two of them landing on him. She hesitated, then marched over. "Hey, nerd. Eavesdropping’s rude, you know?" Both heads spoke in unison. Elliot blinked. "I didn’t—you were shouting. Hard not to hear." "So? What’d you catch?" She plopped down beside him. "Just that you were arguing. Didn’t stick around for details." "Good. Wasn’t your business anyway." Silence settled between them until Elliot ventured, "You sure you’re okay?" "Yeah. Next time, I’ll pick a more private spot." "People can’t help if you don’t talk, Rhea." His tone edged into seriousness. "Who said I wanted help?" she shot back. Elliot clicked his tongue and stood. "You could start by not biting everyone’s head off." "Wait." Her dual voice made him turn. Rhea wouldn’t meet his eyes, her expressions twisting—anger, but this time, directed inward. "Sorry. I’m… working on that. Just—sit back down." The request clearly cost her. Elliot did. "That call…" Her right head started, while the left one fumbled with the juice straw. "—was with my da—cough—damn it!" "You good?" Elliot frowned. "Ugh. Thought I could drink and talk at the same time. Stupid mutation." The realization hit him: she’d never had someone to talk to during meals before. "Anyway," she continued, "skip the details, but… do you think my mutation makes me hotter?" Elliot swallowed. "Any answer feels like a trap. Why?" Rhea smirked, both heads tilting downward. "Pfft. Fair." She toyed with her straw. "My parents have pushed me to be a mutant model since I was a kid. Relatives made bank off it. But I refuse to be some sideshow freak." Her posture tensed, back arching like in class. "And now this stupid body won’t stop changing. Makes it worse." "You’re still mutating?" Elliot’s eyes flicked over her, startled. "Quit staring. And yeah. My gene’s still active. Second mutation didn’t stabilize it." "Wait—the head’s your second one?" "Duh," her left head deadpanned. "You thought red eyes were natural?" "…" "I’ll pretend you’re joking," she muttered, sipping her juice. "Go with that," Elliot said. "So, modeling’s out?" "At least for the wrong reasons," Rhea grumbled. "My dad dropped a fortune on a modeling course without asking. Clashes with my classes here. Didn’t even stop to ask if I wanted it. He just couldn’t wait to put me on display." "That’s messed up." She shrugged. "Old habit. I’ve always been the family’s ‘little princess.’" "That title really doesn’t fit you," Elliot said, bracing for a hit. Instead, she laughed. "Definitely not." "So, what’s the backup plan, architecture?" He nodded toward the university. Rhea shook both heads. "Maybe? It’s an option. But I’ve got other goals." "You’re grinding through a hard degree for a ‘maybe’?" Her glare sent a chill down his spine. "It’s not that hard. And my reasons are mine." Elliot stood, recognizing the return of her usual sharpness. Before leaving, he met her eyes squarely. "For what it’s worth—your mutation makes you prettier. But that doesn’t make you a showpiece. No matter how your body changes, you’re still you." Rhea stiffened, stunned. "Try loving it," he added, walking off with a wave. "You’re the one who has to live in it—not your parents, not anyone else." She stayed frozen, watching him go. "Huh. Maybe I should ease up on him," she murmured—then winced, arching again. "Ugh. Stupid body." Her hands pressed to her sides as she leaned forward. "Gonna need new clothes. This sucks." But as she walked home, Rhea stole glances at her reflection in windows, two heads tilting in appraisal. "Though… maybe there’s perks," she mused—right before smacking into a trash can. "GOD DAMN IT!"