IZZIE WAS HAPPY. Well, not happy, per se. It was more of a "just okay." Happy in comparison to what she had been feeling all throughout the days before. It was more of an "I can finally live with myself" kind of feeling. Something she hadn't felt for a long time.
Still, no matter how stunted the "happiness" was, it felt like such a strange feeling, especially after the rollercoaster of a week she had been through. Guilt still gnawed at her insides whenever she thought about Casey, but ultimately, it would turn to anger about Casey's betrayal, but then back into guilt when she remembered Casey's hospitalization. It was too much for Izzie sometimes, but all she could think about was Casey.
Casey, Casey, Casey.
Even though Izzie was well-trained in hiding her thoughts, she didn't really know how to take all of those feelings she had about Casey and stuff them into the box in the back corner of her mind. Her mixed emotions made it impossible to stop thinking about Casey 24/7, but she managed.
After all, Izzie knew she wasn't the type of person to need someone. She had never let herself need anyone before. Not when her mom became an addict. Not when her youngest brother was born. And definitely not with Casey. Izzie didn't need Casey. There was nothing about Casey that made her special. She was just a friend, a friend who betrayed her greatly and hurt her more than anyone had before.
So she was over it. Izzie had accepted that she may have made some mistakes, but it was over now, and lucky for her, no one got killed. That was all she could ask for. Casey could believe whatever the hell she wanted, but Izzie knew that, on that night, the only person she could've turned to was Casey. Now, of course, she knew that she had Sawyer, too.
But all of those thoughts went out the window when Izzie opened her door that night, exactly a week after the last time she saw Casey. She forgot that she was supposedly able to "live with herself," and she forgot that she was "over it." She forgot that she had committed herself to Sawyer, and she forgot that Casey was supposed to be trapped inside a box inside the back of her mind.
It had been raining for the past few hours, a loud storm that was characteristic of summer nights in Connecticut. The booming, boisterous thunder had scared the kids from sleeping, but eventually, Lydia and Izzie were able to coax them back into bed. Lydia was now upstairs, FaceTiming one of her friends. Claudia... or maybe Madison... Maddie? Madeleine? Izzie shook her head: it was so hard to listen to Lydia when she went on about all of them. Each name just blended into the other.
Izzie, on the other hand, had been downstairs, just scrolling through her phone. Sawyer had passed out an hour ago since she had to wake up early the next day. Her Clayton friends were all out, and Izzie had wanted to go, but of course, her mom had disappeared the night before and had yet to return. So Izzie was all alone.
Just as she was ready to call it a night, Izzie heard a knock at the door. At first, she thought it was just the storm, as the winds were definitely picking up. But the knocking continued, so Izzie figured it was her mom, who probably forgot her keys. She walked to the door angrily, ready to chew her mom out. How dare she be so irresponsible after years of promising that she would get better?
But it wasn't her mom, and it definitely wasn't the rain.
Izzie froze when she saw Casey on the porch, completely soaked in rain, but nonetheless there. She looked like she still was supposed to be in the hospital, with a cast still on and a scar on her face. But she was here. Why was she here? Izzie closed the door and stepped outside onto the porch.
The porch overhang kept both of them from the rain, but Izzie couldn't help but notice how drenched Casey was. And she couldn't see a car anywhere. Did Casey run here?
"I walked," Casey said, as if she knew exactly what Izzie was thinking. "It didn't take too long."
Hearing Casey's voice sent chills down her spine. Izzie remained frozen.
Casey continued, "I was discharged today. There were some complications with my arm cause some stitches or something came loose or got a little infected or something. I don't really know. I should've been out a week ago."
The raven-haired girl stayed silent. She tried to make eye contact with Casey, but she couldn't bring herself to look her in the eye. She didn't know what to say. Was "I'm sorry" appropriate here? Was she even supposed to be the one that was sorry?
"I know it's late," Casey admitted, reaching out her good arm, almost as if she was going to reach out to touch Izzie. But she realized what she was doing, and she brought it back to her side. "I'm sorry. I just... I had to see you."
Izzie felt her defenses begin to crumble. Somehow, all of the walls she was holding in were starting to break. But her brain, the only sensible part left inside of her, refused to let her mouth open.
"I'm sorry, Izzie," the brunette sighed, and Izzie could've sworn a tear was making its way out of her eyes. Izzie felt another crack the walls she had built up. "I fucked up, I know I did. I don't know what I was thinking. I was jealous. I didn't like you with Sawyer, and I should've told you that nothing happened with me and Evan. Instead, I blamed you for everything. I'm sorry."
The raven-haired girl felt the need to scream, and she felt as if her insides were being ripped out of her, but she couldn't say a word. It was as if someone had duct-taped her mouth shut. She finally met Casey's eyes, and she knew that all Casey wanted was for her to talk back. But she didn't. So with a deep but shaky breath, Casey continued to talk.
"It's just like, you mean so much to me. I know you have to know that by now, but I'm sure you don't know all of it. I know I mean... I meant something to you. But you mean more to me. I mean, it's crazy how I feel. We've only known each other for such a short time, and we weren't even that close at first. God, I don't even know how to say it. I've never said it to anyone. Not even to Evan, at least not when I truly meant it. So how can I say it to you when I'm sure you don't feel the same way, even if I do truly mean it? How can I say it to you when this," she gestured between the two of them, "just proves that you don't feel it? And you have the right not to feel it. I've been so awful to you. But I, like, am this close to saying it. But I can't. I can't say it. I just... I'm sorry, this is all too confusing. Just know that hurting you has made me hurt infinitely more. Because, well, at this point, you have to know why."
Izzie felt the raw emotions that Casey was conveying, and her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. She knew exactly what Casey was saying, but she disagreed with some of it. Casey didn't feel any more for Izzie than Izzie did her. Izzie felt the exact same way, and she knew it. But she didn't know how to respond. She remembered, at least somewhat, that she was with Sawyer and that she would never hurt her. But here was Casey, and even if Izzie had never admitted it out loud, she knew that all she had ever wanted to hear were those three words. But her mouth continued to betray her, and she kept silent, as if her jaw was fused shut.
"Izzie, please talk," Casey pleaded. "Yell at me. Tell me off. Do anything."
"I don't know what to say," Izzie replied, her voice hollow, sounding foreign even to herself. Void of emotion. She knew that inside, her defenses were falling apart, but she didn't have to admit it to Casey. And she wasn't going to. Her obstinate nature was betraying her true emotions, and Izzie was going to let it happen. "I don't know what you want me to say."
"Anything. Just say anything," the brunette begged.
Izzie paused. Instead of thinking about Casey for the millionth time, she decided to think about herself. What did she want Casey to know? After lots of silent pondering, Izzie spoke.
"You hurt me," she stated, her voice quieter than she had wanted it to be. "You... you trivialized everything I had been through and everything I had felt and turned it all around on me. You blamed me for something I had already been blaming on myself. The worst thing I had ever done. You solidified it. You took my feelings for you and used them against me."
"Izzie..."
"No. You can't say anything to make it better anymore. Your apologies can keep coming but I still feel the anger and resentment. And I know I fucked up in my own way, too, and I'm sorry for that. But I can't take everything I did back, and you can't take what you did back. Not in my eyes. You may have forgiven me, but I'm not sure I can forgive you."
"Izzie," Casey repeated. "Plea-"
"It's getting late, Casey. Go home."
Casey's face fell, and Izzie's defenses were weakened yet again. Her feelings of aggression started to subside as began to regret acting out. Maybe she should've given Casey another chance. But she couldn't now. Not after saying all that.
Izzie took a deep breath, running her hand through her hair. "I'm sorry," Izzie said, just like she did a week earlier in the hospital. Her voice was barely above a whisper, as if she was ashamed to say it. Ashamed to say that she was the one who was giving up.
She took one last good hard look at Casey, as if she was trying to focus in and take a picture of the brunette. She was drenched in rain, with a cast on her arm and a scar on her face, but deep down, Izzie saw that Casey was beautiful. No matter how beaten up or broken down she looked to anyone else, Izzie knew that Casey was gorgeous. The perfect girl.
Izzie remembered the way Casey looked on the night of her birthday party. The heat that she had felt with her forehead pressed up against hers. Izzie remembered the way her heart skipped a beat whenever they locked eyes. The way she felt when Casey said her name. Izzie remembered how Casey's lips felt against her own. How they just melded together. Perfectly. Always in sync.
Where did we go wrong? Izzie thought to herself, as she felt more waves of regret. She should just forgive Casey right now, right? But she knew that she couldn't do anything now. Just as Casey couldn't swallow her pride and apologize to Izzie in the hospital room, Izzie just couldn't bring herself to forgive Casey completely. She was always going to be the lone wolf, the proud creature who would never cave in, even if it meant perpetual loneliness. Even if it meant giving up the only person who had "gotten" her in years.
So Izzie stayed silent. Instead, she just continued to stare at the girl in front of her. The girl with her hair haphazardly plastered against her face and eyes filled with a sadness Izzie empathized with. "We never got that timing right, did we?" she murmured to herself, thinking out loud. "A shame."
Casey opened her mouth, and it almost seemed that she wanted to say something to that, even though Izzie never meant for her to hear it. But Casey decided against it, looking down solemnly and avoiding Izzie's dark brown eyes.
And with that, Izzie turned to open the door and leave, and she felt a blast of deja vu. But this wasn't some sort of hallucinatory deja vu; this time, it was real. She knew she had already done this before at the hospital. She had turned her back on Casey and just left her. But now, she felt that if she turned away this time, it would be much more permanent. If she walked away this time, it would count for good. And Izzie wasn't sure if she could bear to do that just yet. So she let her hand rest on the doorknob for just a small, extended second.
But that second was enough for Casey to act.
"Izzie," she breathed, for the third time. There still was a pleading tone in her voice, but it was one that seemed to be on the brink of giving up. On the brink of exhaustion and frustration.
Izzie heard all of this in Casey's voice, and yet again, her heart yearned. Deep down, she knew. She knew that somewhere, somehow, she still wanted Casey. She needed Casey. So against her better judgement, Izzie turned.
And suddenly, a pair of lips smashed into hers.