The Fallen Angel

32.Remorse

Sitting on the Music club couch, avoiding eye contact with Ero, I couldn't help but mumble to myself, "Is he trying to set a record for the longest stare at a wall?" I mean, I've seen statues blink more often than he does!.

"I was wondering why he didn't want to meet me at the cafeteria and dragged me to this lame music club," I pondered, while casually chomping on some Lay's chips. "Mind if I crank up the tunes?" I inquired, hoping to inject a little excitement into this dull scene, both with some jams and some munchies.

He didn't respond but just gave me a long stare, making me feel like I was auditioning for a staring contest instead of asking a simple question. I smiled and teased, "Can I, or are you waiting for the chips to start singing instead?" Still, no response. Maybe he's hoping for a Lay's commercial moment where the chips magically play the perfect song!.

I added, "I'm sorry for being harsh to you earlier and I've never been so harsh," with a playful chuckle, "Well, except maybe when I accidentally stepped on my cat's tail and it gave me the 'silent treatment' for a week!" I hoped my lighthearted apology would break the tension and bring back some laughter to our conversation.

He didn't respond, just kept scrolling through his phone as if he were trying to decode the secrets of the universe. "He's boring," I muttered under my breath, as I shoveled a hefty pile of chips into my mouth, hoping the crunch would drown out the silence. It felt like trying to have a conversation with a brick wall – equally unresponsive but with less texture!

I stood up, my mouth stuffed with chips, and with a theatrical flair, I blurted out, "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Ta-da!" I sighed dramatically, feeling like I was trying to break free from the grip of a boring vacuum sucking the life out of the room. Time to make my escape from Snoozeville!.

Before I could make my exit, he stopped me with a solemn declaration, "Words aren't really painful as I've been through a lot." Guilt washed over me, filling me with remorse as I bit my lip. I turned around and faced him, mustering up the courage to say, "I'm sorry." It felt like a heavy weight had been lifted off my shoulders, but the ache of regret still lingered in the air.

On my knees, I locked eyes with him, pouring out my heart with sincerity and empathy. "I'm truly sorry," I began, my voice quivering with emotion. "I understand things must be incredibly tough for you, but I believe you need to open up to someone. The dynamics between you and Adrian leave me bewildered, but I won't pry because I respect your privacy." Tears brimmed in my eyes as I pressed on, "It's evident there's turmoil in your relationship with your father, and it's essential to address it." Each word carried the weight of genuine concern, as I hoped to chip away at the walls he had erected around himself.

Breaking the heavy silence, I mustered up a joke to lighten the mood. "You know," I said with a playful grin, "if silence is golden, then we must be sitting on a fortune right now!" Hoping to bring a chuckle to the tense atmosphere, I awaited his reaction, hoping my attempt at humor would be well-received.

He didn't respond to anything and abruptly stood up. "I need to leave now," he declared, but I found myself standing there alone, dumbfounded. "What about the heartfelt speech I just delivered? Aren't you gonna throw in a 'thank you' or maybe a 'let's hug it out'?" I quipped, trying to lighten the mood with a touch of humor. It felt like I was auditioning for a one-person show, and the audience had suddenly walked out!

"Here I am, left out as always," I muttered to myself, channeling my inner drama queen as I dramatically sauntered away, leaving him in my dust. It was like a scene straight out of a cheesy soap opera—me, the misunderstood protagonist, and him, the brooding enigma. Cue the dramatic exit music!

I hustled to catch up with him, teasingly quipping, "This is why everyone thinks you're as thrilling as watching paint dry!" as we strolled side by side, his strides perfectly syncing with mine. It suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks—I never realized just how tall he was compared to my fun-sized stature. His piercing blue eyes and that tempted expression were right in front of me, a sight I'd never truly taken in before because, let's be honest, we were usually too busy getting into mischief to stop and admire each other's faces. Talk about a dynamic duo with a height discrepancy!

"Why are you following me?" he asked, stopping in his tracks.

"Following you? Nah, I'm just casually strolling in the same direction," I replied nonchalantly, trying to play it cool despite the fact that I had practically sprinted to catch up with him.

"Okay," he said, continuing to walk alongside me, while I nervously shook my hand back and forth, trying to act natural despite the awkwardness of the moment. It was like trying to dance to a song with no rhythm!.

"Have you ever watched zombie movies?" I quipped, breaking the silence with a touch of humor. "This is how they'll walk in silence to avoid making any sounds!" I couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of us unintentionally reenacting a scene from a zombie flick as we ambled along in awkward silence.

"Isabelle," a voice echoed through the hallway. "Oh, it's Adrian," I muttered to myself, pausing in the middle of the hallway to catch a glimpse of him. But before I could turn, Ero interjected, "Stay away from him before he drags you into another mess." His words hit me like a ton of bricks, reminding me of the tangled web of drama that seemed to follow Adrian like a shadow.

"Well, he may be a walking disaster, but hey, at least he's entertaining!" I joked with a smirk, After all, who needs reality TV when you have Adrian's unpredictable antics?.

He pulled me aside, his expression earnest and sincere. "I'm serious," he said, his voice soft but firm.

I met his gaze, feeling a shift in the atmosphere. "Okay," I replied, my tone matching his seriousness. "What's on your mind?"

His eyes held a mixture of concern and determination. "I need you to understand," he began, his words measured. "Adrian... he's not someone you should get involved with. He's trouble, Isabelle."

Caught in the crossfire of conflicting emotions, Adrian paints Ero as the villain, while Ero accuses Adrian of being the troublemaker. With each of them pointing fingers at the other, I'm left feeling torn and unsure. Who am I supposed to trust? It's like trying to navigate a maze with no clear path forward.

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