❝In which two people call up a helpline in order to find someone just as broken as they are. ❞
"Does...does it bother you that my dad's in prison for murder?"
"Well, judging by the fact that I moved away from America to get away from the memory of a...
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Elliot didn't sleep much that night, despite feeling both physically and emotionally drained. His thoughts were speeding through his mind like competitors desperate to reach the finish line, each individual idea competing to be announced first place. There were simply too many thoughts, even when he closed his eyes and attempted to wipe away every stream of consciousness from his mind. But someone may as well have been shining a light in his eyes because he could not, for the life of him, fall asleep.
He was also beginning to feel the consequences of sleeping on the floor and presumed that Isabella would feel the same once she awoke. He had been watching her sleep for a while now, fascinated by her peaceful expression as she slept. It was something special. Something intimate, to see someone when they had no control over their expression. Beautiful, even. But, that being said, he did miss her smile.
He gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
The sort of elation he had felt upon the confirmation of her feelings had been akin to nothing else, a sense of relief and joy enveloping him all at once. But it had also left him with pain. Because he knew how much it would have broken him if he were to find out she did not feel the same. If she had pulled away. And, for the first time, he could truly feel what Maddie felt for him. An overwhelming pain mixed with self-doubt and questions of, "why aren't I good enough?" It made him feel like a monster. A complete and utter asshole. For causing someone such torture.
He could feel Isabella's hot breath on his face, even though he was not directly touching her.
It was about three in the morning when Elliot gently moved her onto the bed, and four when he joined her after hearing sounds of distress. And although Isabella could not hear his comforting words in the midst of her nightmare, he was there. Holding her. Stroking her hair. Telling her it was okay. And, no, it wasn't exactly like the movies, because he had a face full of hair and his arm was beginning to ache, but it made him feel happy all the same. Because he was comforting the girl he liked a large amount in the best way that he could.
