∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
ꜱʟɪᴘᴘɪɴɢ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴍʏ ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀꜱ.
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ɪꜱᴀʙᴇʟʟᴀ.
"ɪ ᴛʀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇ; ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ɪɴ ɪᴛ."
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ.
In which (y/n) thought she had seen the last of Isabella when she left her at the wall. 19 years later, sh...
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(n.) the delusion of things being more beautiful than they really are.
♡♡♡
Am I in the wrong here? I'm ticked for sure, but I think I'd need a second opinion. My feet seem to pound down on our wooden stairs as I head towards the dining hall. I left the room a few minutes after Isabella. Is he already gone? Mother doesn't love me enough to keep him overtime, but she wouldn't send him out early...right? She knows I care for him.
I make pace towards the large doors. One is cracked open, and a warm light peeks through. I swing it open, and I'm hit with a wave of relief.
Leslie is dressed neatly. His clothes are dry cleaned, and I can already imagine the starchy texture of his dress shirt and pants. Mother waves me over with a smile.
"(y/n) dear, we've been waiting! Come say goodbye to your brother. Isn't he handsome?"
He's handsome, yes- but nothing like my boy of spring. His freckles die in the warm light of the lanterns, a cheap substitute to the sun. The same sun that kissed his cheeks to give him those marks in the first place.
Visually, he was out of his element. You can bet he felt like it. His hands were restless, his thumbs specifically, messed with the handle of his leather suitcase. He was sweating too, in this cool room. I walk forward and stop in front of him. I'm still taller than he is. If he had the time, would he have ever outgrown me?
Isabella is on his right, she's looking down, probably to avoid making eye contact with me. Her lip quivers. Mother is on his left, reminding him that they need to leave soon. Her hand is getting tighter on his shoulder, fingers beginning to crease the fabric. I hug him. Purposely knocking off mother's hand.
He smells fresh, and his clothes are as stiff as I expected. Under his outfit, I am able to recognize the soft presence that I had grown ever so fond of. Burying my head in his shoulder, just brushing his hair, I can still smell earth on him. It's a permanent aspect of who he is, not one mother can wash off or dress up.
His hands grip the fabric of my cardigan as I move away. Please let go, Leslie, one of us has to. I use slight pressure to push him off. I'm always the one who lets go first.
His eyes shine with unshed tears, and my vision blurs. I hate crying. Choking down a sob, I struggle to swallow, before hugging him once more with more force than before. He stumbles back and I whisper quickly in his ear: a fleeting goodbye.
"I love you, Leslie." it's so quiet, so quick, no one in the room other than him could've heard it. The words are for him only. Mother gently pries me off of him. Leslie is smiling, a soft, dopey one. It improves my mood, just a tad.
"We'll be heading off now. Get yourselves ready for bed." Mother chimes.
The children let out a last chorus of "Goodbyes" and "Farewells" between tears and proceed to wave at Leslie until he and mother are completely out of sight. The younger kids run towards the baths, the older kids follow. I don't catch sight of Isabella. I walk to my room once more. Now, my footsteps are featherlight on the hardwood stairs.
My head is empty as I flop down onto the mattress. I don't feel like thinking about Isabella, or mother, or Leslie. I don't feel like thinking or feeling anything at all right now. I plan to just sleep. Sleeping to hide, sleeping to forget. It's a dreamless night.
Or, it's supposed to be. I seemingly awaken to hazy vision. Someone is on top of me, shaking my shoulders. It's too early for breakfast- it's dark out. Is this lucid dreaming? I wasn't expecting it to seem so real. Soft, wet, drops hit my face and I squint. This is not a dream. The haziness clears, and it's Isabella on top of me.
In different circumstances, I'd be pleased to see her. She had woken me up to stargaze in the past. Tonight is different. She's crying, and her face is ghostly pale. She chokes when she sees my eyes open all the way.
I have trouble understanding what's going on. She's huffing and choking. Her hands are erratic, as they always are when she's eccentric. She might be trying to talk, but if she is, it's not working out.
I hug her, like I hugged Leslie. Buried in my chest and holding on to me like a lifeline, I can piece together what's wrong. Unlike myself, Isabella isn't vocal when she's upset, she's clingy. So I just shut up and hold her.
At the moment, it's all she seems to need. She needed me now, and I was relieved. She still needs me. I clutch on to her back, and pretend she always will. An air castle of the parnassian ideal. One I would never familiarize myself with.
Tangling my fingers in her hair, I recognize neglect. I hit knots. I stand, and Isabella moves frantically, she's reaching for me again. I grab a hairbrush from my dresser.
"Turn." I make a circular motion with my pointer finger. Isabella clenches her jaw and nods tightly. I use a small amount of oil on the bottom of her hair and get to work on easing her mind. I'm positive I worked for hours. Not because it was that tangled, but because she was still awake. After about thirty minutes of brushing, she was limp and silent, but not sleeping.
When she finally gives, her chest rises and falls with soft snores. I kiss her head and wish this was under better circumstances. When she thought about tonight, would she remember this? Am I a part of that picture other than our fight?
I drop the hairbrush and lay. Her head is on my chest, her body is in between my legs. Outside the window, the sun peeks over the horizon. A horizon without Leslie. I shrink under the light, and close my eyes.
Everything is different again.
♡♡♡
【Vault】
✘ (y/n) wasn't late to see Leslie off. He took an extra ten minutes to put on his dress clothes, so they were already delayed when she came downstairs.
✘ Spring is (y/n)'s favorite season. It likely always will be.
✘ Isabella caught a glimpse of the crimson flower protruding from Leslie's chest before booking it. She ran straight to (y/n)'s room.
♡♡♡
WC: 1022
No editing done here! Much too tired. Thank you to all who commented words of comfort on my last note. I really appreciate it. At the moment, I can't promise consistent updates. My school year is coming to an end, and I have finals to stress over. Regardless, I'll do my best.
