Never Alone

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Isabella found Elliot sitting in the kitchen. The music from the party had died down now, most of the guests either preparing to drive home or sitting around in small groups and chattering with soft drinks in their hands. Apart from Shane, of course, who had miraculously unveiled another bottle of beer and was drinking it with so much enthusiasm that it was beginning to become concerning. He smiled at Isabella, though, as she walked past his position on the sofa and into the kitchen, giving her a nod of reassurance that she was doing the right thing. He appeared to be ignoring the odd stares he received from the other guests, his laughter filling the air as he engaged in conversation with both Eddie and Vaughn. 

Isabella had been so caught up in what she was going to say to Elliot that she was slightly taken aback to find the youngest Davis brother in the state he was in. She wasn't exactly sure what it was, but sadness and anger seemed to radiate off him in waves. But she came to the conclusion that it was the little details that gave him away. Like, for example, that he appeared to have taken a leaf out of Shane's book. A glass of beer in front of him. And a slumped posture to accompany the drink of forgetting. He had his finger in the drink, slowly swirling around the golden liquid whilst muttering incoherently under his breath. 

He hadn't noticed Isabella's entrance to the room.

"Hey." Her voice was soft but he had been so caught up in himself that any new sounds were a shock to him. That, and he had been thinking of Isabella, picturing her riding off into the sunset with someone else, imagining himself left off in the background to die in some hole somewhere. Smiling. For some reason. So, as you can imagine, actually hearing her voice made him jump a little. So much that he knocked his glass of beer over to one side, the glass scraping against the wood as his remedy to forget oozed out onto the counter in a helpless river of orange.

He wasn't drunk. Maybe a little bit tipsy. But not drunk. He hadn't even had a full pint yet. He hadn't had the chance.

"Hey." His voice lacked any sort of enthusiasm. He was half convinced that she was here to pronounce her new found love for some other guy. That she was here to give him a ******* invite to their wedding. The thought filled him with so much fury that he struggled to prevent himself from swiping the glass from the counter and hurling it against the wall. 

He picked up the glass and gently set it upright.

His jaw was wound so tight that it felt as if someone was reeling him in on a taut piece of wire, pulling in the sharp edges of the metal as it scraped against his teeth in the most agonizing way possible. The nails on his fingers dug into the soft skin of his palms, leaving indents of his anger inside the opening of his hand. He suddenly felt the need to smile, to let Isabella know that he was happy for her. Happy. For. Her. Elliot. Look ******* happy for her. 

He smiled.

Isabella thought he looked like he was going to cry.

"Are you okay?" Her voice was a mix of concern and confusion. She was incredibly worried about what had suddenly caused his plummet in mood, seeing as he had been fine the last time she had spoken to him. Better than fine, actually. But she was also highly confused as to what could have possibly occurred to become the origin of his sudden sadness.

Elliot didn't look her in the eye, watching the spilled beer roll off the counter and slowly begin to drip onto the tiled floor of the kitchen. "Yeah." His voice was about as believable as Isabella's when she said she was fine.

It was for this reason, that Isabella shot down his denial, knowing full well that he would have done the same for her. And, although the rest of the party was still occurring in its quiet murmurs, neither of the two teenagers could hear the commotion. It was as if they had both tuned into each other's frequencies, only able to connect with each other as they wrote off the rest of the world.

"I'm fine." He insisted, really wishing she would just go away so he could go back to self-pitying himself without her being there to torture him with what he could have had. If only he had been a little...better. 

Isabella laughed slightly, shaking her head as she came to sit on the bar stool next to him. And Elliot wanted to scream, because if she came any closer. He would snap.  The wire in his jaw would snap and cut its sharp edges into his eyes until he had no choice but to cry. "You're obviously not, Elliot. What happened?"

Oh, you know, I just ******* realised that I'm not going to be your boyfriend because I was too much of a ******* coward to tell you my feelings. And now it's too ******* late. What's new with you, Isabella?

He looked into her eyes, saw the expression her face. Saw the genuine concern on her face and he felt it. At least a little. She was worried about him. Hell, she knew him well enough to know that he wasn't okay in the first place. That was someone who cared. That was someone who put aside time in their day just to think about him. And it didn't matter if that thinking wasn't romantic because she cared. She had taken the liberty to put her own worries aside and talk to him. Ask him what was wrong. To not turn away that the, "I'm fine," because she couldn't be bothered to try and figure out what was up. But to stay. And persist. And try to work it out. So she could help him.

And someone, someone who did that for him. Someone who tried so hard. Deserved to know the truth. Because she cared. Because he cared. It didn't matter if she was going to be with someone else. She deserved to know. If she had put so much effort into caring for him, then he could at least return the favour by being honest. It didn't matter how much the rejection would hurt.

He opened his lips, running his tongue over them as he suddenly felt that they were far too dry. He cleared his throat. "I...uh..." Now he was actually going to say it, he had no ******* clue what to say. Did he need to say how upset he was at seeing her with someone else? How furious and sad it had made him at the same time? Because how the hell was he supposed to put that into words? He wasn't ******* Leanardo DiCaprio in Romeo and Juliet. He didn't have the backup of a romantic song like in the movies. He hadn't prepared a monologue. He didn't have a script.

So he just decided to kiss her instead.