|John Haveland (phony_king) wrote in nevermore_logs,|
@ 2012-07-25 00:41:00
|Entry tags:||isabelle darlington, prince john|
WHO: John, Isabelle
WHAT: John's hit rock bottom
WHEN: Friday 27th Jan
WHERE: Avonlea Retreat
It had been a couple of days. John sat in his armchair by the window in his heat-controlled room, looking out at the wintery garden. He wanted to go out and lie in the snow and just get showed under until spring came again. Any thought of his mother made him feel guilty, and Richard filled him with anger. He avoided thoughts of anyone else. His whole life he'd built was in tatters. Who cared for him anyway?
He picked at scab on his finger with his teeth, taking up another layer of skin and making it sting. The pain reminded him of how he'd been treated, and he hunched miserably, self-pityingly in on himself. He didn't blame himself for this at all. He didn't see the connection between his own pride and the actions that followed it. All he saw were the people who tried to tear him down, and how much he hated them all.
It had been at least a week or more since she'd seen or heard from John. So, to say she was startled by the news coverage of his 'outburst' was an understatement. She had no idea how to respond to that or know what to do. She felt bad for him though.
It was a few days before she'd found out where he was staying. His apartment was empty, and he never picked up his phone. Now she was just getting worried. The darling girl put on her best, heels clicking against the floor before she came to his room. She knocked politely at first but then snuck the door open.
"Hey cutie," she said in a broken voice. He looked awful.
John lifted his head a little, confused for a moment, then looked around at her. "Isabelle," he said slowly, remembering her. He'd felt like he had nothing left, and now, here she was. "Why're you here?" He felt a little cautious, wondering if she'd come to break it off with him.
She ruffled his hair as she stepped around where he sat. Her fingers stroked through against his scalp, giving him a soft comfort. "You okay?" She settled her hands against his shoulders, slowly massaging them. She didn't really know what to say.
John frowned, then batted her hands away, still feeling too self-conscious to let her touch him yet. "Do I look okay? What are you doing here?" he repeated, looking at her, defensive. He had three days of stubble on his jaw, and dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. She was a part of something that felt bitter to him, too good and bright when his life had been a lie. Surely Richard had got to her and turned her against him too. She said they'd met, after all.
She held her hands up in defense. Obviously he was still tense. Stepping around, showcasing those long legs as she crouched down to see his face. She brushed a soft hand against the stubble. "So get up and shave Mr. Haveland. Put on some clean clothes and stop whining." She put on her most suitable face. She didn't want him to keep torturing himself.
John wouldn't meet her eyes, just dropped his gaze and turned his face away stubbornly. "You're only here to laugh at me too. You're all just laughing at me. I'm a joke," he growled. He didn't want her to pity him. "And you still didn't tell me what you're doing here."
"I'm not here to give you pity," she said putting her hands on her hips. He was being ridiculous. It was almost as if he was hitting some kind of mid-life crisis, but she wasn't sure how that worked when he wasn't quite forty yet.
"I'm here to see you," she lifted his chin, not caring if he pushed her away or not, kissing him to assure him she was not there to laugh at him.
The kiss seemed to mollify John a little, and he became less wary of her, but still a little on edge. "How did you find me here?" he asked, indicating that she should sit on a chair near him.
"Your brother told me," she said firmly. She knew he would cringe at the thought, but it was the truth. She wasn't about to conceal that fact. She ran her hands through his hair looking around for a brush or something. If he wasn't going to clean himself up then she would.
John's expression turned dark. "Why were you talking to him? I forbid you to talk to him!" he snapped, his voice suddenly loud. He caught hold of the hand in his hair and yanked her closer, his grip tight, just on the edge of hurting her. "You're not to associate with that man, do you understand me?" he snarled through gritted teeth.
"I didn't know where you were. I was worried!" She said pulling her arm from that thick grip. It hurt, his fingers digging into her skin and pinching bone. "Let go!" She said darkly, yanking at her hand. She would not tolerate this. If he was going to get physical in this way she would not stay.
"I will leave if you don't let me go."
"Don't. Go. Near. Richard." John let Isabelle go abruptly, still looking angry, hand clenching into a fist and then flattening out. "I won't have it," he muttered, "I won't." He went back to chewing the edge of his cuticles, pulling up another layer of skin.
"You're being ridiculous." She rubbed her hand around her wrist until the pain subsided. "If you're going to be like this I have a mind to listen to my parents when they say to have nothing to do with you." She was stern in her lecture, her brows crossed so that he would listen and snap out of this. She wouldn't deal with this if this was how he was going to be. She did not wish to be in an abusive relationship. She liked him, still did, but she did not like this behavior.
"Am not," was John's first retort, but when she went on to threaten to leave, he pouted, looking up at her miserably. He got to his feet and took her hand carefully, pressing two kisses to her wrist and then holding her hand against his cheek. "Don't go. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. Please stay." He kissed the inside of her wrist again.
Her brows raised in question when he started to act more like a five year old. "I like you," she said softly, "I'm not your enemy." She didn't wish to be treated like one. She knew he was out of sorts, but she wouldn't pamper him when he needed to pick himself back up. He threat worked it seemed as he touched her a little more tenderly this time. She let him, not flinching.
"Are you going to be nice?" she asked in a soft purr.
"Yes," John promised, looking suitably apologetic. "I just- Richard- I don't want him taking you away from me." He kept his voice soft and none of his sudden anger showed. "You're the only friend I've got."
She kissed the tip of his nose. He was using that adorable face to keep her from getting angry at him. It was hard for her to be angry at anyone as it was. Her finger ran along his bottom lip, tapping it in a soft lecture. "He's not taking me away from you," she assured him. "He's been nothing but nice to me, and before you say a word because I know what you're going to say, you hear me out. He told me where you were because I needed to know. I was worried. Nothing more." She didn't understand completely the dynamic between them, why it was such a tarnished relationship with his brother. She had no plans to change his opinion but she wanted him to be sure that he understood she wasn't going anywhere unless he pulled a stunt she wasn't pleased with or he dismissed her.
"The only way I'm leaving is if you make me or you do something I don't like. No abuse. No bruises on my skin. Are we clear?" She was serious.
"I know. I'm not angry with you, I'm angry with him. I promise I'll never hurt you again." He hung his head. "Richard thinks he's doing the right thing. He probably thinks that I will not treat you properly. But he doesn't know me, not like he thinks he does. There are things- you wouldn't understand, it's too complicated, too long a story. But, he always resented that my father liked me best. He resents me. Do you understand why I don't want you to talk to him? He'll act all friendly and considerate and at the same time he'll make you doubt me. I don't want you to doubt me. I promise I will never abuse you. I want you to like me." At the last word he looked up again to meet her eyes.
"You better keep that promise Mr. Haveland," she brushed against his lips giving him a simple kiss. She was already confused about this situation, that had she a clearer picture she would understand. The details were fuzzy and she heard two opposite sides to the equation. She wasn't sure who to believe right now, but at John's sad face she curled her fingers around his neck. She kissed him again. "I'm right here," she promised. "I do like you, but first, please shave and clean yourself up, then maybe I'll give you something you'd like." She grinned, playing with him a little. If it cheered him up, she was at least successful in some way.
John raised an eyebrow, curious, but did as he was told. He gave Isabelle a magazine to read while he showered and shaved for the first time in a few days, and came back wearing jeans and a shirt, actual clothes rather then the pyjamas he hadn't taken off since the orderly had helped him into them. His hair was damp and he combed it back with his fingers as he sat down on the edge of his bed to look in his drawer for an actual comb.
She'd missed him a lot. His company was always wanted. She wasn't sure what she was willing to give him exactly, but it had pushed him off in the right direction. That was progress. She'd laid on his bed, one elbow propped up and her chin in hand as she flipped through the magazine. Her legs were crossed at the ankle, still showing off her strapped black shoes and long legs.
She watched him return out of the corner of her eye, following him as he sat down. She moved when he shuffled around in the drawer, taking the comb from him as he located it. Settling herself behind him, her knees on either side she ran it through his hair.
John felt oddly cared for, her gentle touches almost like how his mother had soothed him earlier in the week. He wasn't used to it. The women he usually seduced didn't want to mother him, they wanted to fuck him in way they didn't get to with their husbands. He found he liked it, and the tension leeched out of his shoulders. He turned his head towards her, catching the comb and gently taking it from her to drop on the floor. "Thank you for not leaving me," he said, moving one arm around her waist to adjust her so she was sitting with one leg across his thigh. "What was it you were going to give me?" he asked, tenderly tucking her hair behind her ear.
She smiled letting her fingers rake through his hair until he shifted her small body in one movement. She cared for him, she'd been ecstatic over him after their first date. Her cheeks pinked slightly. "Depends," she shrugged, her nose nudging his.
Her hand slid down her own leg to snap lose the strap of her heel, sliding it off her foot.
"On?" he asked, his hand following hers, stroking down the back of her calf. She was so beautiful, and he missed being close to someone. He wanted to devour her, but he held himself back, smiling a little as his fingers brushed back up to rest on her thigh.
His fingers tickled, soft, pressing, and wanting. She didn't say a word as her skin prickled against his touch.
"You," she said in a shy voice, reaching over to drop the other shoe from the opposite foot.
John moved suddenly, rolling them so Isabelle's back hit the bed and John was leaning over her, one knee between hers. He looked down at her a moment, hand hovering over her ribs. It would be so easy to get what he wanted, but- not here. Not after what had happened. He still felt off and he wouldn't do her justice, and he couldn't have her do this out of pity for him. He wanted it to be on her own terms. He lifted his hand and brushed her hair off her face, then kissed her gently.
"Not here," he murmured. "Not with miserable people all around us. I want to do it right."
She gasped as her back hit the mattress, giving him a soft grin, hands clasped on his shoulders. She was sure he could hear the quick pitter patter of her heart as he leaned over her just a breath away.
Such the gentleman. Part of her was hoping he would come to that decision. She kissed him back gently with a soft nod.
Still, he wasn't going to leave her with nothing. Hand clasping her hip, leg pressed between her thighs, he kissed her firmly, meaning to leave her gasping and giddy, and definitely wanting more. But he just rolled onto his side, tucking her against him, sighing and kissing her hair. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, certain now that she wouldn't listen to her parents or to Richard and leave him.
Her cheeks were completely red after that kiss, her lips still numb, tasting of him. She did want more, but by then he'd pulled her in close, warming her with his arms. She couldn't help but smile at his compliment. She felt beautiful under his tender words.
"Thank you," was all she said, still a little breathless from that kiss that she already wanted more of. She licked her bottom lip with her tongue, keeping that flavor near.