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Cody sat beside Isabelle in the hospital room, his hand in hers. He watched her face with worry etched into his own. He watched his ex-girlfriend give birth to his son, and his mother when she had Arlo, but it was hard every time. Especially with Isabelle since he loved her and didn’t want to see her in pain. “Are you okay? Probably not, I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do.”
@isabelle-maddox
“I hate to do this to you, but would you mind pretending that we’re dating for like ten minutes?” Eleanor stated, ducking her head low. “Went on a few dates with Mr. Craigslist over there and I honestly don’t feel like dealing with them today… I’ll buy you some food or something, please just hurry & hold my hand or something. I don’t have much time.”
@breaxing-isabelle
Cody’s been in town now for around a month, and that’s how long he’s known Isabelle. But from that very first night, you couldn’t deny the soul they found in each other. There was something about the girl that just drew him to her. He wanted to get her something special. She was so passionate about the things she loved, so he tried his best to get something that corresponded. He walked up to the door of the flat she shared with her brother. He knocked on the door, holding the gifts behind his back.
@isabelle-maddox
“You give and you give and give when is it your turn to take?” [ Isabelle | ofwhiips. ]
“I don’t do it for those reasons. I just... I want to help. I don’t want to be like her. I don’t want to make the same mistakes or be that selfish. I want to be better. I need to be better.”
Everything burns in shades of oranges and reds, lanterns illuminating faces and the light feels far too warm. He - with his glacial heart - lingers away from the maddening crowd. But how does one escape their demons? He turns and sees her, watches her. Remembers her; those unspoken words of devotion, breathless with laughter. Remembers the note and coldness of that damnable summer break ( a game, he thinks, all a game ).
“Tearing hearts apart tonight, Isa?” The nickname feels far too familiar on his tongue, laced with bitterness and such h a t e . “There are plenty for your picking.”
