BRING IT CLOSER 🌙 ━━ VIII.
IVY ❛ how much i meant to you,

meant it sincere back then ❜

𝓘VY ━━ 𝒗ol I.
𝒊. ✧ eighth chapter

NICHOLAS lay in his darkened room, staring up at the ceiling, his mind racing as fragments of the night played over and over in his head. The party, the music, the laughter-all of it felt like a distant blur now, eclipsed by a single question: why had she pulled away? He could still see her face, glimpses of her avoiding his gaze, of her laughter dimming every time he drew near. He hadn't missed that distance, that subtle wall she'd put up between them. His chest tightened as he recalled each sidelong glance, each excuse she'd made to slip out of reach.

The silence around him was thick, almost suffocating, and every shadowed corner of his room seemed to echo his frustration. He had tried to let it go, to tell himself that maybe it was nothing, just a passing mood. But as the hours slipped by and the city outside fell into an even deeper quiet, the knot in his chest only grew tighter. His thoughts refused to settle, as if demanding answers he didn't have.

A sigh escaped him, sharp in the silence. He couldn't spend the night like this-unable to sleep, unable to push her from his mind. The more he tried, the more her image lingered, and his questions grew louder until he knew he couldn't stay here, alone with his doubts. Throwing off his covers, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up, his mind already made. He needed to see her, to hear her explanation face to face. Maybe it was reckless to go over so late, but he didn't care. Some things couldn't wait until morning.

He grabbed his keys from the nightstand and slipped into his shoes, his movements quick but deliberate. The apartment felt eerily silent as he locked the door behind him, as if everything around him was holding its breath, waiting for what might come next. His footsteps echoed through the empty hallway, a steady beat matching the thudding of his heart.

The drive through the city was a blur of streetlights and shadowed buildings, but his mind was focused, clearer now that he was in motion. The roads were nearly empty, the world seemingly at rest, yet he felt wide awake, every nerve attuned to the anticipation of seeing her. What would she say when she saw him at her doorstep? Would she understand why he'd come, why he couldn't stay away? Part of him felt foolish, yet the need to know, to understand, was stronger than any hesitation.

As he turned onto her street, the sight of her building looming up ahead brought a sense of calm mingled with unease. His grip on the wheel tightened, and for a fleeting moment, he wondered if he was ready for whatever answers she might give him. But it was too late for second-guessing; he was here, and there was no turning back.

He parked by the curb, the street eerily quiet, his heart racing as he made his way to her door. The stillness of the night seemed to amplify every sound, from his steady footsteps to the faint rustling of trees in the breeze. Standing outside her apartment, he hesitated, taking a slow breath, steadying himself.
The light spilling from her window cast soft, warm shadows over him as he gathered the courage to knock. For all his resolve, a flicker of vulnerability had crept into his chest, making him painfully aware of just how much she mattered to him. Finally, he lifted his hand and rang the bell, the sound breaking the silence of the night.

The door opened slowly, and there she stood-Isadora, her hair slightly tousled, her expression caught somewhere between surprise and caution. She blinked at him, her eyes widening, and for a brief moment, neither spoke. The awkward silence stretched between them, amplifying the tension that hung heavy in the air.

Nicholas swallowed, feeling the weight of everything he'd been holding back. His voice came out soft, almost hesitant, yet carrying an unmistakable urgency. "I couldn't stop thinking about you. About everything."

For a heartbeat, her guarded expression softened, a glimmer of understanding flickering in her eyes. His words seemed to slip past her defenses, melting away the initial wariness. She stepped back, opening the door wider in silent invitation, and he followed her inside, the air thick with an unspoken intensity that neither seemed ready to name.

As they walked into her living room, he couldn't take his eyes off her. There was something about seeing her here, in the quiet vulnerability of her own space, that stirred something deep within him. The way she looked at him now-soft, curious, but still a little uncertain-only made him want to know her thoughts even more.

They sat on her couch, the silence stretching long and unbroken, filling the room with a tension both thick and delicate. Nicholas felt his pulse thrumming in his ears, a steady, insistent beat that mirrored the questions swirling in his mind. He had been restless, haunted by the distance she'd put between them at the party, and now, here he was, barely a few feet away but still feeling that invisible wall lingering between them. He wanted to close the space, to reach her, but the words he needed seemed to lodge in his throat, just out of reach.

Taking a breath, he looked over at her, eyes searching her face for some kind of answer. His voice came out soft, careful, but there was no mistaking the weight behind it. "Why you didn't want to talk to me at the party?"

Isadora's gaze dropped, her hands fidgeting slightly as if she was gathering her thoughts. She looked almost startled by the question, her expression wavering between guardedness and something more vulnerable. There was a hesitation in her, a reluctance that told Nicholas she'd been wrestling with something of her own.

"I... I just felt a little overwhelmed, I guess." Her voice was quiet, a hint of a tremor beneath her calm tone. "The night didn't exactly go as I planned. Everything felt... off." She paused, her eyes lifting briefly to meet his before darting away, as if unsure of what she was willing to reveal.

Nicholas's chest tightened, the faint edge of frustration curling at his thoughts, though he kept his expression soft, open. He wanted to understand, to hear her out, but it hurt to see her pulling back, to feel her reluctance like a barrier he couldn't quite break. And yet, beneath his frustration, there was a swell of compassion, an understanding that maybe there was more to this than she was ready to share.

"Isadora..." he murmured, leaning forward slightly, his gaze intent. He could see the uncertainty flicker across her features, her lips pressed together as if she were weighing her words carefully. Nicholas watched her closely, his heart thudding with a quiet desperation, sensing that whatever she was about to say was something she'd been keeping to herself, something that had made her distance feel sharper than usual.

Finally, she spoke, her voice almost hesitant. "There was... someone I met at the party." Her eyes lifted to meet his, searching his face before quickly flicking away again. "He was a waiter. Brooklyn." She paused, drawing a breath, looking as though she were testing the weight of each word before letting it fall. "There was just something about him. He had this confidence... this kind of charm. I didn't expect to notice him like that." Her voice softened, almost as if she were talking to herself, still processing the strange pull she'd felt.

The words settled over Nicholas like a weight, heavy and unexpected. He felt a pang, sharp and unfiltered, his stomach twisting as he fought to keep his expression steady. Jealousy stirred in his chest, an ache he couldn't quite smother, and his jaw tightened as he tried to process the confession.

He forced a breath, his voice strained but casual. "And... you liked him?" The question slipped out, harsher than he'd intended, his tone betraying the jealousy he couldn't quite hide.

Isadora looked up. Her cheeks flushed faintly, and she hesitated, as if she hadn't expected him to respond like this. She shifted, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her sweater, clearly uncomfortable. "I don't know," she murmured, almost apologetically. "I mean, it's not like it was... anything serious. I don't even know if I'll ever see him again."

Her words felt like an attempt to soften the blow, to dismiss the moment as something insignificant. But Nicholas couldn't shake the jealousy simmering just beneath the surface. The thought of her feeling even a flicker of interest in someone else sent a wave of jealousy crashing over him, an emotion so raw and unexpected that it left him feeling exposed, vulnerable.

He tried to keep his voice steady, but his frustration bled through. "So... he just made that much of an impression on you, huh?" His words came out quieter, tinged with an edge of bitterness that he couldn't entirely hide.

Isadora glanced at him, eyebrows drawing together as she took in his reaction. "It it wasn't like that. I wasn't looking for anything." Her voice softened, genuine, as if she were trying to make him understand. "It just... happened. It was just a moment." She bit her lip, almost hesitant to keep talking, as though afraid she might make things worse.

But he couldn't shake the gnawing ache in his chest. He wanted to be the one who captivated her, the one who made her feel things she couldn't quite put into words. The idea of someone else catching her eye, even for a second, felt like a loss he hadn't been prepared for. He shifted, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, struggling to mask the frustration mixing with something deeper, more vulnerable.

"Just... a moment, right?" He echoed, voice barely above a murmur, looking down as though studying the floor might distract him from the sting of her words. "I mean, if it didn't mean anything..." He trailed off, but his voice held an unspoken plea, a need for reassurance he couldn't bring himself to ask for directly.

Isadora's gaze softened, reading the hurt in his face. "It didn't mean anything," she said, her voice gentle, almost a whisper. She leaned forward, her hand hovering near his, as if debating whether to reach out. Finally, she rested her fingers lightly on his arm, grounding him in the warmth of her touch. He swallowed, feeling her touch calm him but not fully dispel the ache. The vulnerability lingered, an unspoken confession hanging in the air between them. Leaning back, he'd glanced at her with a teasing squint, though his eyes held a depth he hadn't quite intended.

"So... strangers now?" he'd said, his voice low, playful but with an edge of something more. "Is that what's doing it for you these days?"

Isadora had rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. She could sense the hint of vulnerability behind his words, even through the teasing. "Please," she'd replied with a small, amused sigh, the sarcasm there to keep things easy. "It's not like I'm out here falling for every mysterious guy with a tray." She'd shrugged, leaning back, almost brushing off the topic. "Besides, it wasn't that serious."

His expression had softened, though he'd tried to keep up the casual front, his gaze lingering on her. "Right," he'd murmured, his tone light yet weighed down by something unspoken. "But, you know, I thought maybe I'd be higher up in the people-you-trust category."

She'd given a quiet laugh, catching the mix of honesty and hurt behind his words, even if he hadn't meant to show it. "Nicholas," she'd replied, her voice gentler, steady, as if reassuring him. "You know you're not off the list. I just... needed a new perspective, just for a moment." She'd looked down at her hands, brushing a thumb over her fingers as if gathering her thoughts.

For a moment, he'd only watched her, a quiet tension settling between them, one that was both familiar and painfully new. He'd tapped his thumb against the couch absently, letting her words settle in, though the pang in his chest lingered. "Sure," he'd said, a faint smile just barely touching his lips, though his eyes remained on her. "I get it."

Isadora had looked back up, meeting his gaze. A spark of mischief had danced in her eyes as her mouth curled into a small, knowing smile. "Besides," she'd added with a lightness that cut through the weight between them, "you know if I needed to run to anyone, it's Alexa who'd be first."

He'd raised an eyebrow, letting out a soft scoff, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense. "Wow," he'd said, shaking his head as if truly stunned. "All this time, and Alexa's your go-to?" He'd tried to keep the laughter in his tone, but the softness in his gaze was unmistakable. "I'm hurt."

She'd laughed, the sound clear and easy, and nudged him lightly with her shoulder. "Of course, it's Alexa," she'd teased, a playful gleam in her eyes. "She doesn't pull the dramatic, jealous ex routine."

He'd narrowed his eyes at her, feigning an expression of deep offense. "I'm not dramatic," he'd replied, but his words softened, the warmth in his gaze betraying the faint hurt he still felt. "Just... concerned."

They'd fallen quiet then, just for a moment, their shared laughter echoing into something quieter, something unspoken that lingered between them, connecting them in a way that felt both light and strangely profound.

"I just..." he started, his voice dropping to a barely audible murmur. He swallowed, glancing down before meeting her eyes again, the vulnerability in his gaze unguarded. "I don't want you to get hurt, Dora." The way he said her name was soft, almost reverent, as though he was speaking a truth he hadn't fully admitted to himself until now.

Isadora felt something catch in her throat, a response to the tenderness she hadn't expected to hear. For a moment, she didn't speak, her eyes flicking to his clenched hand resting on the couch. Without fully realizing it, she reached out, brushing her fingers lightly over his. The contact was fleeting but electric, like a spark of warmth in the cool quiet. Her hand lingered, just barely touching his, and in that moment, both of them were achingly aware of the space between them, filled with words they hadn't yet spoken and feelings neither had fully confessed.

"Nic..." she whispered, her voice gentle, almost tentative. She wanted to reassure him, tell him she was fine, that she didn't need him to worry. But the way he looked at her-like she was still someone who mattered, someone he wanted to protect-it made her heart ache with an understanding of just how much he still meant to her.

The silence between them was weighty but not uncomfortable, a shared vulnerability that felt as fragile as it was significant. She squeezed his hand slightly, an unspoken message in the gesture. "I know," she murmured, offering him a small smile, one that held both gratitude and something deeper.

For Nicholas, that simple touch, the warmth of her hand against his, was everything he'd been silently yearning for. And though he knew it wouldn't resolve the tangled mess of their feelings, in that moment, it was enough.

Isadora's voice softened, her gaze settling thoughtfully on the window. "Sometimes, I miss the way things used to be... when everything felt lighter, quieter." Her words lingered, carrying a hint of sadness. Nicholas's gaze held on her, understanding the depth of her nostalgia, feeling the same ache himself. The fame that had once seemed thrilling had transformed their lives in ways they hadn't expected, pulling them further away from the simplicity they once knew.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice steady, "me too. It was different back then. Easier." There was a warmth in his eyes, a recognition of the shared weight they carried, even as the silence that followed grew tender and heavy with the things left unsaid.

A tired calm began to settle over them, each feeling the quiet comfort of just being close again. The room was still except for their steady breaths, and after a moment, Isadora leaned into Nicholas, resting her head lightly on his shoulder. He moved without thinking, wrapping his arm around her, feeling the softness of her against him as she relaxed into the warmth of his embrace.

The tension from earlier in the evening seemed to melt away, leaving only a deep, unspoken understanding. Their breaths fell into sync, rising and falling in the calm rhythm of familiarity. Exhaustion crept in as they sat in silence, neither one wanting to disturb the peace that had settled around them. Slowly, the pull of sleep grew stronger, and they drifted off together in the stillness of her apartment, their unspoken feelings lingering, wrapping around them like a soft blanket.

In that quiet, there was no need for explanations or words, just a shared sense of belonging they had nearly forgotten. And as the first light of dawn peeked through the window, they slept, still wrapped in each other's warmth, bound by the moments and memories that lingered between them.

author's note !!!

no comments here, this photo represents me enough.
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