To everyone else, three is not love, how wrong they are

To  her friends, Daneh Hanna is one of the calmest persons ever.

If she was mad at you, it would gradually pass. If she was ever mad, she would let you know with her silence. Not with her screams. Never with her screams. Hanna was blunt, and knew how to hurt with her words; but she never chose to.

 

To them, unfortunately, Hanna knew how to be wrathful.

 

“I told you many times,” she would say, fists clenched at her sides. “No. I refuse.”

 

“But, Hanna,” the blond boy would beg, throwing in his puppy eyes for better effect. “It’s just a dress.”

 

“It’s slinky, and shows a lot, and I am not wearing it anywhere, no matter how much you insist.”

 

“Hanna, please?”

 

“No!” she would shout when she was at her wits’ end. She didn’t like wearing dresses and they knew that. The fact that they wanted her to wear one for a Music meeting. “I can perfectly wear a suit!”

 

“But, but! Our cabaret theme–“

 

“Thommas,” the other boy interrupts, stepping close to Hanna. “She’s right. Think about it. All those girls will see her in that dress. And the rest of the Musics will be able to see her legs, and her neck, and her shoulder…” his voice is like velvet, like a spider creating its web of manipulation.

 

And Thommas falls right into it. “You will wear a suit,” he says, as if there is no more space for discussion. Not that Hanna would discuss.

 

“Thank you,” she whispers to the boy near her.

 

He looks down at her, a smirk on his lips. “Oh, don’t think you’re out of it. I just don’t want everyone else to see you like that. If it’s not with him,” he says, pointing at Thommas, “then I’m not sharing you with anyone.” He kisses her cheek and chuckles at her expression. “You’ll wear that dress later. In private.”

 

And her wrath comes back all over again.

___________

To anyone who knows her, Hanna is anything but lazy.

 

If something needs cleaning in the house, she will do it. If the Club’s run out of coffee, she’ll get it. If her family needs more money, she’ll find a job and make it. If it comes to working her hands to the bones, she will do it without protesting.

 

All her past employers have nothing but words of praise for her, the perfect hard-working employee who always does what you ask of her, with energy that not even babies have. All her classmates have nothing but words of praise for her, the perfect student, who always helps them with their homework and projects, and still has time to do hers. Her family have nothing but praise for her, the perfect daughter who always does the chores without complaint. Her father might be a bit worried too, for her, because poor Hanna hardly ever relaxes, the bumbling bee that she is.

 

With them, however, Hanna knows how to be lazy.

 

“Mmm, this place is wonderful,” she says, eyes closed as the breeze whispers through her clothes.

 

She lays on the green grass, one arm under her head, and one uniform button undone. Next to her, they are in the same position, smiling. The world freezes in moments like these, when Hanna moves her hand, grass rustling under her fingers as she seeks the hand closest to hers. Her other arm leaves from under her head, hand looking for another hand.

 

The spring breeze musses their hair, and Hanna laces her fingers with each of them, bringing their hands to rest right under her breasts. One of them, she can’t tell who and she doesn’t want to open her eyes, boldly flickers one finger on the underside of the breast, and she breathes in.

 

“I don’t want this to end,” she says, smile on her face growing wide.

 

They agree even though she can’t see them.

_______________

 

To her ex-schoolmates, Hanna had been a very modest girl.

 

She made due with what she had. Envy did not suit her, nor did they think her capable of having it. If a girl would come and show Hanna her new hair-cut, or her new clothes, Hanna would never, ever look envious of it. They would never, ever see Hanna trying to destroy someone else’s happiness, or copying anyone. Hanna would simply congratulate, honest and nice as always, and be on her way. Perhaps that was why most of the girls liked her, and why the others didn’t like her.

 

The girl was simple. And sometimes, most times, simple was what made a person beautiful. Not that Hanna thought that. To the boys, Hanna had been pretty. To the girls, she had been nice. To her enemies, she had been too modest.

 

But sometimes, even Hanna feels envious.

 

“Who is that?” she asks the twins one day.

 

“Hmm? Oh, that’s one of Kevan and Thommas’s childhood friend,” one twin replies, smirking when he notices the look in her eyes.

 

“Yeah, I hear they’ve known each other since Thommas came to this school,” one of the twins drawls, adding hay to the fire. “Apparently, Kevan used to have a crush on her for some time.”

 

Fists clench at her sides, and she turns away, leaving the hall. In the tiny adjacent room to the Music room number three, Hanna sits on a chair and scowls. The girl-woman that is talking to her boys (her boys) is beautiful. She has long hair, brown and silky and tied with pale coloured laces. She has wide eyes, sea-green and expressive. She’s thin, and tall, and graceful, and everything that Hanna isn’t. So Hanna looks at her figure, and frowns. She glares at her short hair, and scowls. She huffs, leaning her head against the table in front of her, and wonders.

 

“What do they see in her, anyway?”

 

The door opens, but Hanna doesn’t realise, her hands coming to rest near her head.

 

“What do they see in me?”

 

The door closes, but Hanna doesn’t realise, fingers tapping on the table.

 

“They probably consider me an experiment. When they graduate, I’ll be forgotten. They’ll be married off to some elegant high-class lady, and I’ll be left at the bottom of the social scale.”

 

One person tries to move, but is stopped by the other one. They listen for a bit.

 

“I’m simple, and nothing big. So why should they–“

 

“Because simple is beautiful,” one of them whispers, stepping out of the shadows.

 

Hanna lifts her head, surprised that they’re both there. “What are you–“

 

“We were told,” the other says, “You had left suddenly.”

 

“But that guest,” Hanna murmurs as they step closer to her.

 

“We don’t care about her,” Thommas says, kneeling in front of her.

 

“We care about you,” Kevan finishes, resting beside him. “No need to be envious of anyone. They should be envious of you. And they are.”

 

They kiss her, in turns, and she leans back in her chair, and laughs at her silliness. They’re right. No reason to be envious of someone who will never have what she has.

 

______________________

 

To the boys, Hanna is a retard when it comes to love-lives.

 

The girl has no clue about how one should act near a boy. In fact, she probably doesn’t know when a guy has a crush on her. Hanna, to them, is the most asexual girl they’ve met, which is a pity. She will turn down any boy who asks her out in favour of her studies. Most of the times, she won’t even realise that they’re asking her out. Hanna doesn’t know about dating, or kissing, or anything that goes further than that. She’ll probably die a virgin, which is, again, a pity. But it’s all her fault, for being so uncultured when it comes to these things. Most likely, they think, she’d do better being a nun.

 

And oh, how wrong they are.

 

When Thommas kisses her, and Kevan unbuttons her shirt, Hanna gasps. When Kevan tips her head backwards for a kiss, and Thommas busies himself with trailing kisses down her throat, to her shoulders, shedding clothes and touching skin with warm hands, Hanna whimpers. When they lay her down on the table, impatient and aroused, and they kiss each other, Hanna sighs softly, and watches them with wide eyes, enraptured. When Thommas slides off her bra, and Kevan slides her pants down her legs, Hanna shivers, head thrown backwards and eyes closed in pleasure. And when Thommas takes one nipple in his mouth, worshipping it as it deserves, and Kevan twirls his tongue on the line of her panties, Hanna moans loudly, and whimpers. In the next hour, she will moan, she will sigh, she will gasp, she will die. They will touch her, they will kiss her, they will kiss each other, and it will be filled with passion, and love, and lust.

 

And when both the boys take her, and she’s warm and tight around them, they will smirk at each other, knowing that they’re two lucky bastards. Because they’re the only one who will ever see her like this.

 

____________________

 

To the Music Club, Hanna is a humble girl.

 

She shouldn’t be, in their opinion. If anything, Hanna should be proud to have such big grades, lovely friends, and two people that are completely and utterly in love with her. Because the Musics know about the menage-a-trois that takes place in front of everyone’s noses each day.

 

They think Hanna shouldn’t be humble, and shouldn’t settle for anything but perfection. Because that’s what she deserves. They rarely see Hanna being prideful, not even when one horrible girl calls her stupid and ugly. They think that Hanna is probably happy with keeping it secret. Which is completely, and utterly stupid, if you ask them. If you have McAllister Kevan and Silvester Thommas wrapped around your pinkie finger, you flaunt it, and use it, and abuse it, and show it to everyone. The Musics wonder if Hanna will ever do that, since they’ve heard her once, telling her two boyfriends/lovers/best-friends that they had to keep it in secret or else their families would disown them, and she could not live with knowing that she destroyed them. They figure out Hanna will probably keep it a secret for a long time.

 

But Hanna, being Hanna, surprises them again.

 

The entire Music Club has been gathered one night, to have dinner at the McAllister mansion. Apparently, even Thommas’s father has been invited, because the McAllister family had something important to say. Well, not them, but rather just Kevan’s father. By the look on Kevan’s face, he has no idea what it is, either.

 

“I’ve decided on my son’s future wife,” the man declares, and some of them choke on their food. Hanna doesn’t move.

 

“What?” Kevan hisses, clenching his fork hard. Next to him, Thommas grabs his hand under the table. Across from him, Hanna taps his right calf with her toes.

 

“Yes, yes, she is a very respectable young lady, comes from a good social class, and I think it will be a good dea–“

 

“I refuse,” Kevan says. Thommas clenches his hand tighter.

 

“You can’t refuse,” his father says. “You might not love her now, and I understand that you should be wary of that fact, but in time, you will learn to cherish her.”

 

“I refuse,” Kevan repeats.

 

“Marriage shouldn’t be a deal,” Thommas protests beside him. “Marriage should be about love, always.”

 

On the other end of the table, Thommas’s father smiles.

 

“Marriage with love? Boy, there is no such thing as that in these times,” Kevan’s father spats.

 

“You’re wrong.” All heads turn to Hanna, some eyes widening at the look in her eyes. Fierce and directed at the McAllister senior. “You’re wrong. Marriage is always about love, or else it’s not marriage, it’s just a deal. Kevan   does not deserve living with a person who won’t love him.”

 

“Oh? As if anyone could love my son. He’s too cold, he’s too disciplined and too locked up to such a petty feeling.”

 

Hanna stands up from the table, chair scrapping against the floor. She leans her palms against the table, and looks at Kevan. “I love him.” She looks at Thommas next to him, and smiles. “We both love him.” And then she closes her eyes, and stands up straight. When she opens them, she’s the perfect example of a person experiencing pride. “I love them both.”

 

There’s a tangent silence in the room, until someone starts snickering. Thommas’s father starts laughing with mirth, pointing at his long time rival. “Ha! I told you, Yoshio!” he shouts, proud.

 

McAllister Yoshio rolls his eyes, his face sour for a moment.

 

“Pay up!” Kevan´s sister Silvester demanded, smirking.

 

“Wh-what is this?” Kevan asks.

 

“We wondered how long it would take you three to make it public,” his father explained. “And Kevan´s sister suggested a bet. I sped things up.”

 

“Father,” Thommas says, “You’re…you two are okay with this?”

 

His father shrugs. “Weirder things have happened, son. A threesome is nothing big.”

 

The McAllister patriarch, however, looks at Hanna. “You, young lady, made me lose my bet,” he declares. “I had thought it would be Thommas the one to voice it first.” His eyes narrow. “As punishment, you are to remain forever at my son’s side.”

 

“And at mine’s,” the Silvester patriarch pips up.

 

Hanna smiles, proud and amused, and answers: “Gladly.”

 

And that is that.