Holding You 'Til Our Time Is Done

One Month Later.

"Come on, Isabella. You need to get out of the house." Whitney pleaded with her. She just shook her head 'no' and continued to stare at the wall ahead of her. Whitney, Zach, and I were sitting with her in her kitchen, begging for her to go out with us.

Ever since that day, she had just became a robot. She talked in a low, monotonic voice. She bathed, but it was only every other day. She refused to go into work, and Greg just allowed her to get away with it. Whitney and I came over everyday, cleaned up some, and asked if she wanted to go with us somewhere.

"You know what?! I'm fucking sick of this!" Whitney busted out randomly, knocking me out of my thinking. "You sit around here, sulking like a fucking baby! It's been a damn month! If you're just wanting to sit here and be a fucking coward, go right ahead."

"Whitney-" Zach started.

"No, let me finish. You have so many people in your life that are here to help you. Support you. But no. You are going to make everyone fell bad for you. It's getting outrageous. I've known people who have seen people they love die, but they still manage to live their life on without thinking.

"Do you even know what you're doing to us? You've been tearing Alex up from day one. He looks like shit. Having to see you like this, every fucking day isn't making it any better." Isabella cringed slightly at the sound of that. "Yeah, did you forget about your boyfriend? Obviously. Carolina wasn't the only thing you loved. But hey -whatever- I can't decided what you want to do with your life." With that, she stormed out of the house.

"Shit." Zach cursed, then ran out after her. Probably to make sure she didn't attempt anything stupid.

Then I heard a sob. It was barely audible, so it took me by shock that the sound was heard. I glanced down at Isabella, she saw she had folded her arms onto the table and buried her head into them. Her entire body shook as she bawled, making the table seem unsteady.

"I'm so selfish. Alex, I'm terribly sorry." She cried, not looking up. I walked to her, picking her (with some difficulty, since she was crouched down) and carrying her up to the bedroom.

"You experienced a great loss, baby. Don't apologize to me." I cooed, shushing her. She had stopped eventually crying, and buried her head into my chest. I placed tiny kisses on her head, making sure she was calm.

No one's Point of View.

Isabella woke to an empty bed and the smell of maple syrup in her house. She smiled, and slowly crawled out of bed eagerly. She looked down, noticing that Alex had stripped her of the jeans in the night; knowing it would be uncomfortable if she slept in them all night.

She pulled on a random pair of cotton shorts that were laying on the floor and headed downstairs. Alex was standing at the stove, cooking what seemed to be french toast. She smiled gently, grateful to have him.

"Smells great." She told him. Alex jump, completely startled. She barked out a laughed at his surprised state, and he just stuck out his tongue.

"Well, thanks." He responded once he had regained his breath.

"Are you cooking for me?" She asked, jumping up on the counter next to the stove.

"Yeah, love, I am." He smiled down at her, placing his calloused hand on her bare thigh. "I've really missed you, Isabella." He said, pulling her down from the counter and into a hug.

"I missed you, too. I've been so selfish and naive." She murmured into his chest softly. He placed a sweet, soft kiss on her lips and let his linger there momentarily. Lust soon took over both of their hormones, and Isabella feverishly quickened the kiss. She wrapped her fingers into his lengthy hair, while he picked her up and sat her back on the counter skillfully.

Alex's hands traveled up her thin top, resting right under her bra. He went to unclasp it, until she broke the kiss.

"Alex, what's that smell?" She said, eyes full of worry. The scent of something burning was in the air, and it was unsettling.

"Shit!" He cursed, and rushed back to the burning french toast he had left in the skillet. Isabella laughed out at his silliness, and hopped off of the counter and sat down at the table, admiring her boyfriend.