Fragile Heart

87

Landos pov

As the party barely begins, I find myself already three shots in, feeling the effects of the alcohol hitting me hard. I know I'm already beyond tipsy, and it's not even the peak of the evening yet.

I've had my heart broken before, and I've turned to drinks to numb the pain, but this feels like a whole other level. The weight of my emotions combined with the intoxication leaves me feeling completely overwhelmed.

The lack of sleep and the constant drinking every night weigh heavily on me. I've been consumed by thoughts of how to fix the mess I've made, questioning how someone who once loved me could come to hate me so intensely.

And seeing her photographed with Aaron multiple times, looking happy and together, only adds to the pain. It feels like she's moved on, like there's no point in trying to win her back when it seems like she's already found someone else.

That's why I scrapped the entire plan I had in mind. I had envisioned taking her up the hills in Monaco, where I rented a quaint house for a few days. I planned to treat her like royalty, with a day out on a boat and even bought her a new notebook. But I canceled everything. If she's with Aaron, why would she need me?

So, I find myself seated at the bar as more people begin to walk in, and I order a few more shots. I doubt she's coming—she's here in Brazil, Charles told me. And while he definitely still hates me, whenever I get drunk, I end up at his house, and he basically has no choice but to let me in.

But just as I down my last shot, I hear the door open, and my eyes lock on her.

She actually came? Not alone, of course—she's with Aaron, but she actually came.

She enters the room wearing a stunning emerald green dress that cling to her curves flawlessly, her hair cascading down her shoulders in loose waves. Despite her arms being covered with sleeves, I catch a glimpse of her tattoo—the word "angel."

My heart sinks as I recall the post on her Instagram. She got a tattoo dedicated to the name I used to call her.

My angel.

She greets some people as she moves through the room, but then her eyes meet mine. I've been watching her this whole time, unable to tear my gaze away.

She comes to a halt, pulling Aaron with her as she stares at me. I offer a small smile, but she keeps her expression calm.

Whispering something to Aaron, he nods and walks away to talk to others. She then slowly approaches me, clutching her arms as she takes small steps until she stands in front of me.

"You look beautiful, Stella," I mumble, my eyes tracing over her figure. She nods, a soft smile gracing her lips. "Thank you, Lan. You look good," she says in return.

"Do you want a drink?" I ask, gesturing towards the bar. She nods, so I quickly turn around and order her drink. Once it arrives, she smiles at me and whispers a thank you before leaving with the drink.

I'm taken aback. I thought she was going to sit down with me.

|~~~~~|

As the night wears on, the number of drinks I've had becomes a blur. It's now dark, the lights off, music blaring loudly, and the dance floor packed with people. But amidst the chaos, I haven't caught sight of Stella.

And that's probably for the best. Alcohol and Stella don't mix well, and who knows what I might do or say in my current state. It's safer for both of us if we stay apart tonight.

But then, amidst the flashing lights and pulsating music, I spot her—dancing with her hands in the air, wearing someone else's coat.

Fuck, this is not the time for this.

Despite my better judgment, my drunken state compels me to walk over to her and grip onto her waist, causing her to jump and turn around with wide eyes.

"Rude, I was enjoying myself and you scared me," she scolds, squinting at me and pointing in my face. But I ignore her comment and get straight to the point.

"Who's jacket?" I ask, tilting my head as I study her reaction. She starts to scratch her head, pretending to think of an answer before ultimately shrugging.

"Stella, who's jacket is that? Is it Aaron's?" I ask, my tone sharp, but she just bites her lip, a smirk playing on her face. Damn it.

"Maybe..." she giggles, attempting to move out of my grip to dance again. But I refuse to let her go, pulling her back by her waist and bringing her close to my chest.

"Take it off. If you want a jacket, I'll give you one," I reply sharply. She rolls her eyes, defiant. "We're not together. I don't want your jacket," she retorts, glaring at me as she starts to sway her hips. But I've already made up my mind. I rip the jacket off of her and throw it somewhere, not caring where it lands in my current state of mind.

"Hey! You bitch!" Stella raises her voice a little as she covers her arms, and that's when I realize she's not cold—she's covering her scars.

"Don't hide them," I insist, gently moving her hands away. But she pushes me away, starting to walk in another direction. I follow closely behind until we end up in a more private area, away from the prying eyes of the crowd.

I quickly grab her waist and pull her back to me, her eyes widening as our faces are so close together.

"Stop touching me. I'm not yours to touch anymore," she grumbles, trying to move out of my grasp. But I hold her firmly, refusing to let her go. That's when I notice the necklace—the one I gave her on our first proper date.

"And yet you still wear the necklace," I mumble, grabbing it with my fingers and holding it up for her to see.

Stella bites the inside of her cheeks, searching for a response, but she stays silent, obviously unsure of what to say.

"And you got this tattoo," I whisper, tracing the outline of her angel tattoo with my fingers. She still remains silent, her gaze fixed on the ground.

"And for some reason, you're still letting me hold you close to me," I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper as I lean in closer, our faces inches apart. I can feel the tension between us, thick and palpable.

"Because you're holding me too tight. I can't go..." she whispers, her voice barely audible. It's clear she's searching for an excuse to break free from my grasp.

I study her for a moment, taking in the way her eyes flicker with uncertainty, the way her lips tremble ever so slightly. Despite her attempts to hide it, I can sense the turmoil raging within her.

I release my grip on her, stepping back slightly to give her space.

We stand there in silence for a few seconds, the air heavy with unspoken words. I tilt my head to the side, studying her carefully. "I let you go, but you still aren't leaving? Why's that..." I mumble, my voice trailing off.

She doesn't respond verbally.

Instead, she closes the distance between us, her hands coming up to grip my cheeks, and before I can comprehend what's happening, she smashes her lips onto mine.

The suddenness of her actions catches me off guard, but I quickly lose myself in the warmth of her embrace, the taste of her lips familiar and intoxicating. It's as if the world around us fades away, leaving only the two of us in this moment.