His Playlist

Fourth of July

I wish I'd known how much you loved me. I wish I cared enough to know. I'm sorry every song's about you. The torture of small talk with someone you used to love

-"Fourth of July" Fall Out Boy

Isabelle sat in silence on Aiden's couch remaining perfectly still despite the fact that he had left minutes earlier. She was completely petrified to move. If she got up and walked around his apartment she might find out things that she didn't want to know.

She really was trying to just stay on the couch as long as possible but thanks to the coffee she needed to use the bathroom. Plus the clothes were wet from the snow and she was starving. She hesitantly decided that it was time to move her lazy ass and find her way through Aiden's place.

His apartment was fairly large and it looked like someone had come and done the interior decorations because everything looked like the inside of a modern arts museum. It was almost hotel-like. It seemed like there had been a mini battle of dominance between the interior designer and Aiden. It was a mixture of bachelor pad and attempted sophistication, Isabelle wasn't sure who won.

Between the expensive paintings, plasma TVs, and randomly placed knickknacks, there was no real trace of who Aiden was. Isabelle felt almost bad to admit it but she was happy that there weren't any pictures anywhere to be seen. The living room and kitchen were rooms clearly made to impress guests rather than to express personal details about himself. She headed upstairs in search for his room so she could put on dry clothes.

Upstairs wasn't much different from downstairs. There was a guest bedroom but it was completely bare, clothing wise so it didn't help much. The room next door belonged to Aiden. She felt like the door knob was going to burn her hand off as she twisted the door open.

Stepping into his room was stepping inside the photograph of a familiar stranger. There were things that just screamed Aiden like his electric guitars and the half empty horde of water bottles clustered on his nightstand. But then there were things that didn't make sense at all like the overflowing ashtray and the tiny blue pills spilled on his desk.

Aiden felt so close yet so far away in this room. Isabelle could see all the Korean decor that reminded her of his parent's house. The Ky family was never ashamed of their background and proudly decorated their home with a variety of vases, native flowers, and beautiful paintings depicting their home country. But his room was so messy, something he'd never been before. He prided himself in organization.

Isabelle decided she needed to  stop trying to analyze the ghost of someone who she never really knew in the first place and walked towards his closet to get what she needed. She rummaged around a bit and pulled out a large flannel and the smallest pair of sweatpants she could find.

When she pulled out the faded sweatpants from the bottom of the drawer something fell out, landing on the hardwood floor with a loud thud. Confused, Isabelle reached down to pick up whatever fell out. When her eyes locked on the object she realized it was their old high school yearbook. She couldn't help the smile that began forming on her lips.

Her hands trembled as she picked up the yearbook. No one was around to see her reliving the past, who was she hurting by reading their old yearbook? It's not like it was about Aiden right? She wanted to see pictures of her old friends too. Isabelle carefully set the book aside on his bed and quickly changed into the clean clothes.

Isabelle placed the pile of wet clothes in the dryer and headed back to Aiden's room for the yearbook. She sat on the edge of his bed and reached for the navy blue colored book. To her surprise, when she opened up the book several thin pieces of paper fell out and fluttered delicately to the ground. She knelt down to pick them up and in doing so she realized that they were sheet music.

She didn't know how to read music but she could see the lyrics and the song titles. Feeling like she was somehow intruding she was about to place the papers aside when she noticed her name on one of the papers.

"Ink Stains," she muttered reading the title out loud. She began reading the lyrics slowly and heard herself release a shaky breath.

Chasing my dreams with blindfolds on

You were the stars the night brings

You planned a battle that couldn't be won

Don't your fingers hurt from pulling my strings?

Isabelle didn't realize she was crying until a small tear drop landed on the paper smudging some of the ink.

"Ink stains," she scoffed ironically noticing the smudge her tears had made. She shook her head and placed the paper aside. Everything about being in his room felt so wrong but at the same time she couldn't bring herself to leave.

She didn't want to look at any of the other songs so she pushed the pile of music as far away from herself as she could. She grabbed the book, eager to forget what she had just read.

Looking through the pictures in the yearbook cleared her mind as her worries numbed away. High school hadn't been the best time of her life but it created nostalgic memories that Isabelle was happy to visit. Especially the memories where Aiden and her were together. In the very beginning anyways.

There was one in particular, that some unfortunate yearbook kid had to take. Aiden and Isabelle were sitting on a school bench under a tree. It was probably the end of the school year because the tree had flowers blossoming and neither of the teenagers were wearing a jacket. Isabelle was looking straight ahead at the campus but Aiden was looking at down at her with a knowing smile.

This had been back when everything was easy and blissful. It began like any stupid high school relationship would but it grew into something a little bit more. Anyone who saw the couple together could tell they kept their hearts upon their sleeves in the photograph. The sparks were definitely there but they had just been fireworks that went off too soon.

Isabelle felt her eyes begin to grow heavy as the sweet memories tempted her towards sleep.