isaacxmarshall:
It was often that he wished that Winnie Maddox’s case had never passed his desk. A tragic story of a woman hurt by powerful men, it tugged at his heart string and propelled him to action. He cared about all his cases- as much as any man who did a job when his heart wasn’t in it could be- but this one… Perhaps it was the protective part of him, the one that just wanted what was best for the people in his life. The gentleman that his mother had raised him to be. He had risked his career and his reputation to make sure she received justice- and she did, former Judge Howell would only receive seven years behind bars, but he was finished in the eyes of the public- but most of all he risked his relationship with Bowie. How many times had he disappointed them with his work? How many times had he put his father’s dreams ahead of them just so he could revel in that adolescent need for his approval? Where did that get him? Alone, disgraced and unhappy, with only a dog to greet him in his empty apartment.
He would suffer in just having their presence, a sweet sort of agony. Like having gold at your fingertips and not being allowed to feel the soft metal, like having the sun shine above you and not being able to revel in it’s heat. Bowie was all of that. And he was content to just bask in their glow if they would let him. “That’s the difference between you and me,” He flittered playfully, truly meaning nothing by it. “I gotta… Build something. You know? I wanna make sure my mom and my pops are good when the time comes and I can’t do that with the struggling writer look…” Isaac didn’t know why it sounded like he was desperately trying to explain himself. There wasn’t a reason to, was there? Bowie understood, or at least he hoped they did. He took another sip of his drink, a small smile on his lips. This was what he loved about them even though it also frustrated the hell out of him. They always tried to pull words out of him. Words that he was content to let live on paper, but they wished to him them out loud and he would indulge them, of course. “Poetry.” He said, tilting his head. “Uh, don’t laugh. I spend my days looking at legal documents, I’ve just been needing some… creativity in my life. Some color.” He turned to look at them. “You know, like you.”
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Bowie has never really been the sort of person who bites their tongue. They firmly believed in saying what they thought or how they felt, because suppression is good for absolutely no one. But it’s always been different with Isaac, and sitting across from him now, they keep all the words that surface to themself. Mostly, they’re too tired, both in a literal, present sense and in a way that stretches far beyond this coffeeshop. It’s the same dead horse they spent so much time beating towards the end of their relationship. What’s the point of arguing about it again now, this time over tea and pastries as exes? It’s the last thing Bowie wants to do or even talk, especially considering it pertains to his momma, but more specifically, his goddamn daddy. “I remember,” They say simply in response to his constant need to explain himself as they reach for their tea again, taking a sip. What they want to say, however, and maybe they will, is that this matter of wanting to build something and wanting to provide for and take care of his parents doesn’t make him special. It’s a basic human desire. Hell, Bowie wants to build something. They want to make sure their momma’s good when the time comes too. Difference is, they never felt the need to sacrifice or change or compromise who they are in order to make these things happen.
They laugh as they place their mug back onto the table, ready, willing, and eager to move on. “Poetry don’t got a name?” Bowie teases him in spite of themself, tilting their head right back at him as a smile pulls at their lips. They roll their eyes, their smile growing as Isaac speaks. “Oh like me, huh?” They ask, looking at him for a beat longer. It should be a shame how he’s still able to warm the same heart he broke. “Why would I laugh at that? You know I love creativity and color,” They add, gesturing before letting their hands settle in their lap.














