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rainbowfic2012-04-01 01:15 pm
sarcasticsra) wrote in rainbowfic2012-04-01 01:15 pm
Fire Opal, 3 + acrylic + stain + glitter + glue.
Author: Sara
Colors: Fire Opal, 3. impassioned.
Supplies: Acrylic (if music be the food of love, play on), Stain ("Love is the triumph of imagination over intelligence."), Glitter ("To love and win is the best thing. To love and lose, the next best."), Glue (Even if you think that working harder and faster is the answer to all your problems, this strategy of overcompensation won't likely work. Remember, you might still need to process lingering emotions left over from a recent melodrama, so don't overdo it.)
Word Count: 1,110
Rating: PG-13 (mentioned violence)
Story: Polyfaceted; title of this is Someday.
Summary: Isabella finds out Keith's been hurt.
Notes: Spans February 2012 to late March 2012. Expands on the events of Anger. Fun facts: 1. I did not know this happened until I wrote it. 2. Keith did not have a last name until this fic.
“Hello, is this Ms. Isabella Corlioni?”
“This is she,” Isabella said slowly.
“This is Cindy Peterson from New-York Presbyterian. Keith Fuller was brought in to our ER—he’s still unconscious, but he had you listed in his phone as an ICE contact. Is there a family member we could contact?”
“His family lives out of state,” Isabella said, standing. “I’m on my way.”
---
Keith apparently had regained consciousness by the time she arrived, and that plus her last name meant she was allowed in to see him. She sucked in a breath when she saw him, face a mess of bruises and an arm in a cast. “God, Keith, what happened?”
He seemed surprised to see her. “I’m sorry they called you. I haven’t updated my phone yet.”
“Don’t be,” she said, waving that away. “I still care about you.” She frowned slightly when he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “What happened?”
“I got jumped and dragged into a van. They beat me up pretty good,” he said, still not looking directly at her.
Given how cagey he seemed, a suspicious thought crept up on her. “Keith, what aren’t you telling me?”
He sighed. “They made a point of telling me exactly why this happened.”
Cold fury swept over her in an instant. She knew what that meant. “Johnny.” To her ears, his name sounded more like a curse.
“Apparently it was for breaking your heart.”
She swore, loudly. “I am going to kill him.”
“So you didn’t know.”
That quiet, small tone distracted her from her anger for a moment. “What? Keith, of course I didn’t know. I never would have let this happen if I had.” She shook her head, anger returning. “I specifically told you this wouldn’t happen, and that bastard can’t stop fucking meddling where he doesn’t fucking belong, and I am going to kill him.”
“I thought maybe, with the breakup,” he started quietly, but she shook her head.
“It hurt,” she agreed. “Of course it hurt. I love you. But I do not blame you. Relationships don’t always work out. That’s life. Something my soon-to-be deceased asshole brother apparently conveniently forgot.”
“You’re not really going to kill him,” Keith said, sounding unsure, and she snorted.
“No,” she admitted. “But I’m sure as fuck going to draw blood.” She sat next to him and took his free hand. “I’m so sorry, Keith. I’ll pay any medical bills you get.”
“I’m insured.”
“That doesn’t cover everything, and I’ll pay what it doesn’t. This shouldn’t have happened.”
He smiled slightly. “Thank you.”
“It’s the least I can do.” She sighed. “I can’t say I’m sorry enough. You’re going to need a ride home when you’re discharged, aren’t you?”
“You don’t have to, Isabella.”
“I want to.”
---
After she dealt with Johnny and took a couple days to blow off some steam, Isabella headed to Keith’s, just to check on him. The doorman recognized her and waved her up, and when Keith opened his door, he looked surprised. “Isabella?”
“Just seeing how you’re doing.”
He smiled and let her in. “I’m healing.”
“Good,” she said, biting her lip as she studied his face. The bruises were fading, but they were still easily noticeable. She touched his cheek softly. “Have I mentioned how sorry I am?”
“Plenty of times,” he said gently, lifting his non-broken arm so his hand could cover hers. They stood like that for a moment, meeting each other’s eyes.
“So I was thinking,” she said, clearing her throat and pulling away, “it must be hard cooking with only one arm, and I know how you’re not a huge fan of takeout.”
“I’ll manage.”
“You shouldn’t have to. At least, not every day. How about I make you dinner?”
“Every night?” He raised an eyebrow. “You have class.”
“Any night I can.” She shrugged. “I’m pretty good at budgeting my time, so that should be at least three nights a week, maybe four.”
“Are you sure? I know you feel guilty, but this wasn’t your fault.”
“I do feel guilty, but it’s not just that. I care about you and I want to help. And some of it’s just that I miss spending time with you.”
“Well, I can’t deny that I’ve missed you too,” Keith said, smiling wistfully. “If you’re sure.”
She smiled back. “I’m sure.”
---
“You’re cast free!” she said, stepping inside his apartment.
He grinned. “Yeah. Sorry I didn’t tell you, but I knew if I did you wouldn’t let me cook you a thank you dinner.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Keith.”
“See? I knew you’d say that.”
She couldn’t help but grin at his smirk. “All right. So what are we having?”
“That’s a surprise.”
“Really? Well, now I’m intrigued.”
---
Dinner turned out to be ossobuco, incredibly made, and when they relaxed on the couch, she told him so. “Are you sure there’s no Italian in you?”
He smiled. “I’m sure, believe me. It is my favorite Italian food, though. I had it in Italy when I visited.”
“Well, it was wonderful. Thank you.”
“Thank you. You were right. I would’ve gotten sick of takeout after the first week.”
“Seriously, least I could do.”
“That was far above and beyond the least you could do, Isabella.”
“You deserved it.” She finished off her glass of wine and stood. “I should go. Thank you again for dinner.”
“Thank you again for dinner for the last six weeks.”
They smiled at each other, and that was when it happened, as naturally as breathing. They kissed.
“Isabella,” Keith said when they broke apart. She could see the trepidation, the desire, the love, the conflict, all pooling in his eyes. God, she’d missed that, how easily she could read him. “We broke up.”
“I know.”
He brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, still barely an inch of space between them.
They kissed again. He pulled her even closer.
---
When Isabella stirred, Keith was already awake, propped on his side and idly watching her. He looked sad. “We shouldn’t have done that,” he said.
“I know,” she said, and stretched. “I know. Nothing’s changed. If anything, your reasons for breaking it off have been justified a hundredfold. I just…missed you.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I missed you too.”
She smiled sadly. “I guess we can’t just be friends.”
“Apparently not.”
“I should go.” She heaved a sigh.
“Wait,” he said. “We could at least exchange emails, right? Stay in touch, but not be in the same room.”
She laughed. “Yeah, that seems safe enough.”
He smiled. “And maybe someday just being friends will be easier.”
“Yeah,” she agreed softly. “Someday.”
Colors: Fire Opal, 3. impassioned.
Supplies: Acrylic (if music be the food of love, play on), Stain ("Love is the triumph of imagination over intelligence."), Glitter ("To love and win is the best thing. To love and lose, the next best."), Glue (Even if you think that working harder and faster is the answer to all your problems, this strategy of overcompensation won't likely work. Remember, you might still need to process lingering emotions left over from a recent melodrama, so don't overdo it.)
Word Count: 1,110
Rating: PG-13 (mentioned violence)
Story: Polyfaceted; title of this is Someday.
Summary: Isabella finds out Keith's been hurt.
Notes: Spans February 2012 to late March 2012. Expands on the events of Anger. Fun facts: 1. I did not know this happened until I wrote it. 2. Keith did not have a last name until this fic.
“Hello, is this Ms. Isabella Corlioni?”
“This is she,” Isabella said slowly.
“This is Cindy Peterson from New-York Presbyterian. Keith Fuller was brought in to our ER—he’s still unconscious, but he had you listed in his phone as an ICE contact. Is there a family member we could contact?”
“His family lives out of state,” Isabella said, standing. “I’m on my way.”
Keith apparently had regained consciousness by the time she arrived, and that plus her last name meant she was allowed in to see him. She sucked in a breath when she saw him, face a mess of bruises and an arm in a cast. “God, Keith, what happened?”
He seemed surprised to see her. “I’m sorry they called you. I haven’t updated my phone yet.”
“Don’t be,” she said, waving that away. “I still care about you.” She frowned slightly when he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “What happened?”
“I got jumped and dragged into a van. They beat me up pretty good,” he said, still not looking directly at her.
Given how cagey he seemed, a suspicious thought crept up on her. “Keith, what aren’t you telling me?”
He sighed. “They made a point of telling me exactly why this happened.”
Cold fury swept over her in an instant. She knew what that meant. “Johnny.” To her ears, his name sounded more like a curse.
“Apparently it was for breaking your heart.”
She swore, loudly. “I am going to kill him.”
“So you didn’t know.”
That quiet, small tone distracted her from her anger for a moment. “What? Keith, of course I didn’t know. I never would have let this happen if I had.” She shook her head, anger returning. “I specifically told you this wouldn’t happen, and that bastard can’t stop fucking meddling where he doesn’t fucking belong, and I am going to kill him.”
“I thought maybe, with the breakup,” he started quietly, but she shook her head.
“It hurt,” she agreed. “Of course it hurt. I love you. But I do not blame you. Relationships don’t always work out. That’s life. Something my soon-to-be deceased asshole brother apparently conveniently forgot.”
“You’re not really going to kill him,” Keith said, sounding unsure, and she snorted.
“No,” she admitted. “But I’m sure as fuck going to draw blood.” She sat next to him and took his free hand. “I’m so sorry, Keith. I’ll pay any medical bills you get.”
“I’m insured.”
“That doesn’t cover everything, and I’ll pay what it doesn’t. This shouldn’t have happened.”
He smiled slightly. “Thank you.”
“It’s the least I can do.” She sighed. “I can’t say I’m sorry enough. You’re going to need a ride home when you’re discharged, aren’t you?”
“You don’t have to, Isabella.”
“I want to.”
After she dealt with Johnny and took a couple days to blow off some steam, Isabella headed to Keith’s, just to check on him. The doorman recognized her and waved her up, and when Keith opened his door, he looked surprised. “Isabella?”
“Just seeing how you’re doing.”
He smiled and let her in. “I’m healing.”
“Good,” she said, biting her lip as she studied his face. The bruises were fading, but they were still easily noticeable. She touched his cheek softly. “Have I mentioned how sorry I am?”
“Plenty of times,” he said gently, lifting his non-broken arm so his hand could cover hers. They stood like that for a moment, meeting each other’s eyes.
“So I was thinking,” she said, clearing her throat and pulling away, “it must be hard cooking with only one arm, and I know how you’re not a huge fan of takeout.”
“I’ll manage.”
“You shouldn’t have to. At least, not every day. How about I make you dinner?”
“Every night?” He raised an eyebrow. “You have class.”
“Any night I can.” She shrugged. “I’m pretty good at budgeting my time, so that should be at least three nights a week, maybe four.”
“Are you sure? I know you feel guilty, but this wasn’t your fault.”
“I do feel guilty, but it’s not just that. I care about you and I want to help. And some of it’s just that I miss spending time with you.”
“Well, I can’t deny that I’ve missed you too,” Keith said, smiling wistfully. “If you’re sure.”
She smiled back. “I’m sure.”
“You’re cast free!” she said, stepping inside his apartment.
He grinned. “Yeah. Sorry I didn’t tell you, but I knew if I did you wouldn’t let me cook you a thank you dinner.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Keith.”
“See? I knew you’d say that.”
She couldn’t help but grin at his smirk. “All right. So what are we having?”
“That’s a surprise.”
“Really? Well, now I’m intrigued.”
Dinner turned out to be ossobuco, incredibly made, and when they relaxed on the couch, she told him so. “Are you sure there’s no Italian in you?”
He smiled. “I’m sure, believe me. It is my favorite Italian food, though. I had it in Italy when I visited.”
“Well, it was wonderful. Thank you.”
“Thank you. You were right. I would’ve gotten sick of takeout after the first week.”
“Seriously, least I could do.”
“That was far above and beyond the least you could do, Isabella.”
“You deserved it.” She finished off her glass of wine and stood. “I should go. Thank you again for dinner.”
“Thank you again for dinner for the last six weeks.”
They smiled at each other, and that was when it happened, as naturally as breathing. They kissed.
“Isabella,” Keith said when they broke apart. She could see the trepidation, the desire, the love, the conflict, all pooling in his eyes. God, she’d missed that, how easily she could read him. “We broke up.”
“I know.”
He brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, still barely an inch of space between them.
They kissed again. He pulled her even closer.
When Isabella stirred, Keith was already awake, propped on his side and idly watching her. He looked sad. “We shouldn’t have done that,” he said.
“I know,” she said, and stretched. “I know. Nothing’s changed. If anything, your reasons for breaking it off have been justified a hundredfold. I just…missed you.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I missed you too.”
She smiled sadly. “I guess we can’t just be friends.”
“Apparently not.”
“I should go.” She heaved a sigh.
“Wait,” he said. “We could at least exchange emails, right? Stay in touch, but not be in the same room.”
She laughed. “Yeah, that seems safe enough.”
He smiled. “And maybe someday just being friends will be easier.”
“Yeah,” she agreed softly. “Someday.”