invasato [h.s]

9

i said this in the last chapter but i see isaac as dylan o brien if that helps you visualize him a little better!

//

Waking up alone was something I was used to, so when I woke up by myself in Isaac's bed this morning, I didn't think anything of it until I realized where I was.

I sat up a bit, rubbing my eyes upon realizing that I'm in Denver and not Milan.

I'm back at the place I swore I wouldn't return to.

I slowly get up off of the bed, still exhausted from the time zone change. I can hear the television down the hall so Isaac must have woken up before me and went out there. I grab my phone from the nightstand, checking the time.

Oh my god it's 12:30 in the afternoon.

I have no idea how I managed to sleep so long, even being jet lagged.

I go into the bathroom and freshen up from my sleep, washing my face and brushing my teeth before I went out to the kitchen and living room area of Isaac's apartment.

When I walk out, I see him standing on the tiled kitchen floor. I hear the toaster pop as soon as I set my sights on him.

He looks at me and smiles.

"Look who's awake." he says, grabbing the toast from the toaster and placing it on a plate.

"I can't believe I slept for so long." I mumble through my tired voice.

"Youre allowed to be lazy today. You had a big day yesterday." he remarks, taking a butter knife and spreading some strawberry jam over the toast. "Sit."

I go and sit at the kitchen counter on one of the stools. Isaac brings me the piece of toast on the plate.

"What are we doing today?" I question as I take a bite from the breakfast—or, brunch, I guess.

With his back to me, he pours himself some coffee. "I have a few things in mind. It's all up to you ultimately, though."

"Great." I smile as I chew. I was actually feeling good about spending some time with him after three months of being away.

Even though I was hesitant to visit, I'm not gonna let my past experiences here affect my time with Isaac.

He finishes pouring his coffee and turns around with a blue coffee mug in his hand. My eyes land on the mug and I examine it.

"Why aren't you using the mug I got you for your birthday last year?" I tilt my head with a smile, my mind immediately recalling the day I gave it to him.

He sips from the blue mug and arches his brow. "God, I was drunk when we opened presents. Which mug?"

"The green one with your university soccer jersey number on it." I laugh a bit, in slight disbelief that he couldn't remember. It's green with a '21' written on it in yellow lettering.

His brows raise and he nods. "Oh! That one!" he says and I perk up at his remembrance until he continues speaking and shuts me down... "Yeah, I think that got broken at a house party I had last month." he says.

My shoulders drop and my face falls at his words. That wasn't the answer I was expecting—and I spent a lot of money getting that mug made.

He notices my expression and immediately sets the mug down and comes around the counter to wrap his arms around me from behind, his head resting on my shoulder.

"Babe, I'm sorry. I know that meant a lot to you." he says, the scent of coffee surrounding me.

His arms remain around my stomach and I let the side of my head fall against his.