.

.

Bend.

He missed the sight of her pale pink backpack, tossed over her shoulder. Isabella's cotton candy-painted, old Fiat 500 car revving and kicking up dust. Part of his guitar would hang out the passenger side's window as Leo strummed pensively. The radio turned off.

There were memories of creaking wooden floors, and running full-speed with Isabella gripping onto the stolen grocery store cart she climbed into — they would holler and race down the avenue before the lamps came on. Leo remembers mango-flavored bubblegum in Isabella's mouth, poorly covering up the taste of nicotine.

Pull off.

Isabella's mother still owned the B & B on the other side of town.

She used to shriek at her daughter for parading around in a low-cut tank top and fishnets. Isabella had been sixteen-years-old and flat-chested and hated the reality of both things. She stuffed her training bra with Kleenex in middle school. Unpinned her dark, straight hair and let it fly around her in the breeze.

Leo knew her as a wild, boastful kid — and they followed each other, right into the same community college. He still loved playing guitar and choreographing, and Isabella switched between majors, occupying herself with painting murals and dragging Leo on their adventures — to empty, grassy fields, or the sparse patch of woods.

She would make up stories about nymphs living in the bark of trees, or how the little critters knew each other by name and whispered about the rain and stars.

Slide up.

The golden, autumn leaves nest around Isabella's head. She wiggled off her form-fitting jeans, laughing excitably and rocking her hips into his.

Slide down.

Leo understood it then.

He did.

There were no magical nymphs living or breathing in the woods — only Isabella, in her white, cable-knit sweater, a flush growing on her face. Her bright blue eyes glowing. Her lips opening to whine and moan when Leo's cock pushed inside her body, slick and quivering.

Vibrato.

Leo quivered too, thrusting above her and clawing roughly into the dirt and maple leaves, coming too fast. He groaned and tried to pull out, spilling the last drops of come onto Isabella's opened thighs. She laughed like it was the funniest thing and hit his arm, scolding about not being a gentleman with her.

He kissed Isabella with every ounce of the lovestruck teenager he remembered being. Everything in him summoned from the teeniest fragments of their life together. Everything Leo carried within him that gravitated to her, and her sunbeam-warm smile.

She left.

With her pale pink backpack and car, and her fishnets, and her warmth.

Harmonic.

The lamps came on.

Murals dripped and streaked with rainwater.

Dust kicked.

Isabella's mouth tasted like peppermint and hazelnut coffee — and Leo released those memories of her, finally. He had clung onto them like strings to balloons, watching them float heaven-sent. The tight, whole-bodied embraces faded. Nicotine washed out.

And it was okay now.

.

.


YOI isn't mine. It's the introductory week of Yoi Prompts Weekly on Tumblr! I saw the blog about it and couldn't resist trying their first challenge! They asked for people to do a fic about Isabella Yang x Leo de la Iglesia and out of the 5 prompts I chose "bed and breakfast" and "PWP"! Hope you all enjoyed! Comments welcomed!