Reverberation - Guns N Roses Fanfiction

THIRTEEN - the date

September 15th, 1991

I said yes, obviously.

Because the way he made my heart soar was undeniable.

So, we went to dinner on the boardwalk. September had brought icy winds in the air and warm-toned trees to the land across the cove, making it a chilly but beautiful evening.

We sat by the shore, a rope railing and a several metre drop distancing us between it--which would have been startling if not for my calming company.

Izzy's hair was capped by his favourite newsboy hat, but still his lengthy locks tossed and turned in the wind. He was looking down at his food, and the reddish glow from the sun set his face alight. He looked up to me, those olive hints in his brown eyes dancing. And the goosebumps on my arms could have very well been from that eye contact--or maybe the biting wind, even with my jean jacket.

"I'm glad we're doing this," he told me with a crooked smile.

"You are?"

"Of course," he said with a shrug. "You know how I feel about you."

"...I do?"

A hearty laugh escaped him. I smiled shyly, a blush tinting my cheeks.

"I like you. And I want to be with you," he said and was quick to add, "But I respect that you're probably not ready for that."

I twirled the straw in my drink, looking away from him. "I think that maybe... I could try," I attempted to meet his eyes. "For you. If you wanted to."

His hands grasped mine on top of my cup. I finally met his eyes, light hazel illuminated by the stark sunlight. The shadows from his long lashes scooped towards his cheeks. "It would be an honour."

I just smiled as he pressed a kiss to my hand.

-

September 21st, 1991

Things were sort of weird between us; tentative and quiet. But also positive and supportive—because Izzy was always supportive.

I think it was the whole "I can't have sex or make out for longer than a few minutes" thing I had going on. But he was so sweet about it, and he never blamed me. So we just fell asleep nuzzled into each other, with our breaths sharing the same space and our limbs intertwined. And our mouths a little swollen from intense-but-brief kissing.

Mornings were nice, though (not that the whole super-hot make out sessions weren't). I would wake up and turn over and see his sleeping face—even more calm and peaceful than when he was awake. I would get out of bed and get ready for my work day, making myself breakfast and usually preparing some for him, too. Because I was always thinking about him.

When I would re-enter the room to get dressed, I was careful not to rouse him awake. Sometimes I would bring in his plate of food and set it next to him on the bedside table, other times I left it on the stove or in the microwave with a note left to alert him of its presence.

On days that I had the night shift, he would do similarly thoughtful things. Like find something quiet to do while I slept during the day—reading a book or magazine for example—or even something that he normally does, but quieter—like play a soft song on the acoustic guitar, humming a melody, or watch TV with the volume down low.

Tonight was like every other night the past week—since our time on the boardwalk.

I was already tucked in bed, my book recently placed on my bedside table and lamp turned off. He entered the room and got into bed next to me, placing a light kiss on my temple.

I turned my head so that my lips met his. He settled into his place next to me and I continued to do so—peck his mouth, trace his shoulders with my fingertips. Every touch shared between us was gentle, meaningful.

When I pulled away, I looked at him for a moment. At his chiselled features and eyes that made my heart sing. I nuzzled into his chest, his chin resting upon my head. I both heard and felt him exhale softly.

"I'm sorry," I murmured.

Izzy pressed his lips to the top of my head and tucked some hair behind my ear. "I wish you'd stop saying that."

I shifted, pulling away from him sans malice—only to look into his eyes. "What?" I asked.

"You have nothing to apologize for."

I looked at him. And I thought the words. The words that were beautiful yet terrifying—the ones I've never deeply, truly meant in regards to a boyfriend of mine. I wasn't sure how true they were right now, towards him, but I felt them somewhere inside, too big to exit through my mouth. Too big for now, for this moment, anyway.

"I don't know what you mean."

"I'm just trying to say that..." he sighed quietly through his nose, his lips pursed and he averted his gaze. He looked to me once more, and hairs rose on my arms; which I excused with the fact that it was chilly, so I tucked them under the covers. "I don't know."

"No," I said, placing an encouraging hand on his chest. He put his own atop it. "Go on. Please."

"There's just nothing for you to apologize for," he said simply, bringing my hand to his mouth for a swift kiss. He caressed my knuckles gently, as though soothing out tensions or worries. "You've done nothing wrong—I want you to know that."

"Okay," I said and then paused before adding, "I just feel bad that—"

Izzy interrupted me, "No—don't. No guilt, no apologizing. Listen to what I'm saying."

I swallowed and had difficulty meeting his determined, steady stare. I just nodded while looking at the street lights outside through the window's sheer curtain.

"I chose you, Cassie. I chose this. I knew what I was signing up for and I don't care," his voice was desperate, demanding my full attention. I looked up at him finally. "I just want you. That's all. And I know that maybe it sounds unbelievable to you and you probably think I'm lying because of my... reputation of sorts—with the band and all that. But I don't need sex—not with you, not yet," he chuckled lightly, "that's not to say not ever because, oh my God, you're the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen, but... I'm prepared to wait. For however long you need. For you."

I rubbed at my eyes, at the burning sensation behind them. I sifted through his words, trying to uncover my own. "I... don't know what to say," I cleared my throat quietly. "Thank you."

Izzy laughed and kissed my temple. "Only you, Cassie. Only you."

I chuckled along with him, even though I wasn't sure what amused him so. "What?"

"Only you could find a way to thank someone for caring about you."

—

well cute.
I sure do love me some dramatic dialogue to finish off a chapter.

-megan xx

ps. I literally forgot wattpad existed for a second which is why this chapter is so late. sorry bb