FALLEN | rowan whitethorn x oc

CHAPTER THREE - i puke on my crush's shoes

Isabella had imagined meeting some of her favorite characters her whole life. In some of her fantasies, she was the main female character, in some others; she was a completely new character that happened to have what was needed to save the world, and then there were some where her favorite characters suddenly appeared in her world and she had to teach them how to live in a modern society. The latter one had been one of the funniest, she had imagined Lorcan –and his big ass hands- trying to type a text message and miserably failing, resulting in him cursing the phone and throwing a very child-like tantrum. She had also imagined Fenrys going to the shopping mall and developing an unhealthy obsession with the latest fashion trends –and a very ridiculous tendency to wearing sunglasses everywhere, even indoors-, his looks earning him a lot of awed glances and phone numbers from strangers. She had also visualized Gavriel, sometimes with Aedion –his son- spending some time together, trying to reclaim to fate some of their lost time. And then, there was Rowan. No matter her scenario or her fantasy, he was always there. He was always hers, the same way she was his.

It had been stupid and utterly impossible, and yet she had found herself, many times, trying to escape her reality and wandering through her mind until being somewhere else entirely, surrounded by very different people.

In fact, those fantasies had helped her a lot during the last three years. It was a break, from her cruel real life to a world where things were dissimilar, where she was something she was not; where she could be all the things that she could never be in real life, where she could be loved as passionately as in the songs; and where things were right.

It was all a lie. A lie. A lie. A lie.

But she had been happy, if only for some minutes, while living a lie.

And it was beyond her knowledge to understand how she had ended up in that situation. In front of her #1 book boyfriend.

And even though she was filled with joy, and a bit –lot- of incredibility, she also felt very awkward. And her current state of clothes was not helping. And her mind replaying the incredulous and puppy-in-love eyes she'd had when he had first looked at her was even worse. Maybe she should have been well beyond caring, after everything she had experienced, after everything that had been forced on her; but the human mind was extraordinary and unreasonable. Even after all, she was indeed not beyond caring or worrying. Maybe she should be glad, for feeling such things; it reminded her of her humanity. It made her feel, almost, normal. Or as normal as someone could feel, given her situation.

They had tried talking to her some more, but it had been fruitless. She could not understand them and vice versa. After the 100th try, they had all finally given up. Lorcan had looked angry but Isabella had realized that that was probably his rest face, Gavriel looked defeated, Fenrys seemed unbothered and still very curious and Rowan remained her of an iceberg. His big arms crossed over his chest, his feet slightly separated and his back straight. A soldier's posture. But it was his challenging expression, boarding ire, what made her keep her gaze averted from his. Even if the only thing she wanted to do was to stare at him. Her still very present embarrassment was a great help, though.

And her hunger, that was even worse, stronger and more distracting than any kind of shame. She wanted to eat, anything. She would accept anything they gave her, she wouldn't even worry if it was poisonous or not. Though she doubted they wanted her death before getting some answers from her. If they found a way to actually communicate.

Isabella still hadn't heard from the soldier that Rowan had ordered something from before, which was making her anxious because she wanted to know what kind of order he had given him. Gavriel had talked with Rowan a couple of times, Fenrys had also chatted a little and Lorcan's only contributions had been several growls. She could only imagine some were meant to express his disapproval or agreement.