Dried and Dying Roses (BWWM)

Twelve: No Bueno

I fucked up, okay,Isa? I know. I know these won't even begin to make up for it, but I hope that you'll think of me when you look at these.

~A. L.

Bullshit, that's what it was.

Adrian was full of shit.

Isa never wanted to think of him, but that's all she ever did. As usual, he was playing mind games with her.

Her phone rang again, once more Adrian. She didn't answer.

She knew his game. It would be just like it would the first time, when he bit her. He had apologized and done her even worse.

Isaline Brianne Ford was many things. She was naïve at times, she was gentle, a sweetheart, loving, yes, but what she wasn't was an idiot. That being said, she missed Adrian Lew immensely. She wished he just could have been nicer to her, tried to be her friend, not her regret missing him with every fibre of her being. She was lost.

She could still feel his lips on hers, feel his long, thick, powerful member as it slid in and out of her with ease, pounded into her relentlessly, feel it in her mouth, feel him holding her to her chest, snuggle her whenever he was feeling cuddly but would never voice that that was actually how he felt.

"Adrian," Isa sighed quietly. Sometimes she just had to say his name. It made her feel like he was still there.

As terrible as the man had treated her, Isa felt she had become very close to him, despite only knowing his first and last name, and that he liked to draw, go to random meeting, and fuck her until the only word she knew was his name. in a way, she felt as if she had gotten into a huge fall out with Del.

It felt almost the same.

With one last wistful sigh, Isa closed shop, and made her way to the museum, sitting on the same bench she had sat on for years. The weird thing is, it had become her crying bench. Isa could keep her emotions in check until she sat on that damned bench and then everything from the past months came back to her and she cried.

This time though, as Isa cried silently, the only tell-tale sign that she was actually crying being her shaking shoulders, her God Father Bert, sat down beside her. Isa tensed immediately as his arm came to wrap around her shoulders.

"Uncle Bert, I-"

Bert cut Isa off, shaking his head as he pulled her against him, pressing his lips to her temple, "Let it out baby girl," he cooed, "I just want you to feel better."

Isa let out a shaky breath, followed by an even more unstable laugh, though all she wanted was to burst into tears, "I feel better until I come here, Uncle Bert, the moment I sit down, I just can't contain it anymore."

"Then don't," He murmured, hugging Isa tightly, "Don't contain it, let it go. Bottling things up isn't good for you."

"Neither was he, but that didn't stop me from wanting to be near him at every moment that I could." Isa snapped bitterly, trying to wipe her signs of weakness away.

Bert nodded, finally understanding the reasoning behind Isaline's emotional turmoil, "So you're not with him anymore."

"Never was," Isa uttered monotonously, "Just made a lot of meaningful mistakes with him. Things I should regret."

"Do you?"

"Sometimes," Isa sighed wistfully, "Sometimes I hate myself for it, and I'm disgusted, but other times I just am happy that I was happy at the moment, but Daddy said that living in the moment wasn't good, Uncle Bert. I see that now,"