❝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 woke up at around six o'clock but only announced his lively state at ten, not entirely sure how to process the fact that the entire world seemed to be against him. So he had needed some time to think. And contemplate. And feel a little sorry for himself. And, in all honesty, he wasn't too keen to inform Isabella that he had overheard her phone conversation as, as ridiculous as it was, he preferred to be kept soundly in the illusion that everything was okay. And fine. And dandy. And perfectly fine. Freaking fabulous, even. Just freaking fabulous.
With this in mind, he walked into the kitchen with a large smile, happy to find Isabella laughing about some off topic nonsense with his brothers. Her smile seemed happy and genuine, which briefly made Elliot wonder if she ever actually intended to tell him. Was she going to hide it from him? If so, should he attempt to confront her on the subject? How should he react if she were to tell him? He couldn't even come to terms with what he felt for real yet, let alone come up with some fabricated response.
On the one hand, he was pretty damn heartbroken. It almost seemed bittersweet, a sickeningly sweet centre filled to the brim with sweet confessions finally unleashed and a sour coating of fate and inevitability. A devastated part of him had always known that this would happen, that finding a partner for life at this age was incredibly, incredibly rare. That she was probably only to be one girl in the grand scheme and experiment that was true love. That it was never supposed to last. But so soon? He had imagined that he would have a bit more time to fool himself into thinking that they would last forever. He had imagined getting to know her in the ways of a lover instead of a friend. Hell, with that he had been feeling, he had been ready to chase their spark right until the moment it burned out.
But now the spark seemed destined to run on without him, leaving him stranded. Confused. Not quite sure where to turn next without that little light of possibility. That there could have been something more. It was like holding a diminishing sparkler in his hands, laughing and making tricks with it until, suddenly. Gone. Gone. Gone before you ever realised it was going. Left with a rather dull stick that left no traces of its previous enchantments. Leaving the holder with a surge of disappointment. And slight grief. Mourning for what could have been and what had been taken away so quickly. Wishing they had taken more time to appreciate it before it had dwindled away into darkness.
But, as much as he wanted to fight for her. He couldn't. Not for this. He couldn't hold her back from this. That would be an incredibly cruel and selfish thing. And it wouldn't have been done out of love, either. It would have been done out of hatred. The hatred of being alone. It terrified him. But it had to be done. Because she deserved this. She was the most amazing and inspiring person that he had ever met. She deserved to rekindle the relationship with her mum. She deserved to have her voice heard. She deserved to make a big change in the world and all the glory that came with it. He couldn't hold her back from that, no matter how much it hurt him.
He would confront her, he decided. And tell her to go. To do whatever the hell she wanted to do but to think of herself. And not of him. Because if a relationship was ever going to work then it needed the same amount of independence as that of togetherness. A perfect balance.
He snapped out of his thoughts to look at Isabella, of whom seemed incapable of looking him in the eye.
