*COMPLETED*
Isabella Landon isn't the easiest person. With a heavily weighted baggage of past mistakes, decisions worth a river of tears. She still manages to create a decent life around herself. Supporting friends, high paying job and mind free of...
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"I hope you don't mind that I used your toothbrush,-" Olivia grimaced, hand scratching her forehead. "-my head hurts like a little bitch. I need painkillers."
Isabella's face stayed neutral, eyes not leaving the morning paper that she read on her tablet. She gestured blindly at the cup with coffee and meds. Breakfast there was too, waiting to be devoured.
"Here, drink and eat."
"Thanks."
Isabella shifted uncomfortably when Olivia passed and placed a hand on her shoulder. A shiver ran past her spine, bringing the fragments of the past what indicated their innocent sleeping together was in indeed more than her eyes saw.
She was hyper-aware of the situation.
Smaller detail, a misconception what laid buried deeply under the layers of obliviousness, it all came out. Like a freaking wrecking ball, crashing the walls around Isabella's heart. She has no idea how to feel.
Angry?
On whom, Olivia? She hasn't done anything wrong other than love her. What she learned from twenty-six years of life, you cannot fight your heart. Love comes and goes. You're a puppet to emotions. Whoever tries to fight the feelings is either destroyed in advance or become someone like her: emotionless robot.
Sad?
Why? Why would Isabella be sad? Isn't love what is most beautiful yet dangerous emotion out there? Having someone like Olivia love her, makes heart want to burst out of the chest. It's fucking Olivia — the most amazing, gorgeous person out there.
She should feel lucky.
So why doesn't she?
It's all... empty?
"You alright?"
Isabella raised her eyes for the first time since Olivia stepped into the kitchen area. Her stony expression faltered, crumbling into numbness what only meant one — it wasn't good.
She scanned dampened dark hair falling softly on Olivia's shoulder, a white t-shirt what indeed was Isabella's favourite. She was a bare face, no makeup — anything — just tiredness and fear. Regret. Olivia was fighting something — someone.
And you should be stupidest of stupid not know that someone is herself. This time Isabella wasn't oblivious to that.
To the torment of a lifetime. The viscous feeling what ate Olivia from inside. She now realised that Olivia always was holding back — holding back from blurbing the truth. The truth what Isabella stared blindly at.
She was fucking angry at herself.
Why I gotta be this blind?
"Nothing," she clapped her mouth shut, pushing tablet on the counter. "Why?"
