Note: This is for Nanette because she asked me to post it. :3 I don't really know where they are. Probably in the Royal Court, or the Institute (but that would be a bit conflicting as vampires can't enter it) and because I really have no idea how either of them ended up where ever they are. So it's up to your imagination to decide where the hell they are. This is a bit confusing since it switches scenes alot but I wanted to highlight really important parts of what kind of relationship I wanted them to have. Most parts are short but hey, that's how I roll. I don't really like the ending because I wanted to make this fic fluffly and happy like unicorns on LSD but I don't know, I'm not very good at happy endings lol.
*Also, this fic is dated sometime during the summer.
She dances under the sunlight and spins and spins. Christian realizes early on that Isabelle Lightwood is not his type. She's reckless and loud and arrogant and she makes his head whirl in a sort of tornado like way. She takes everything and spins away in her shimmering dresses and easy smiles. She leaves him breathless, wanting more and more. It drives him crazy; she drives him crazy and he doesn't know why. Her eyes glisten, her laugh is breezy. Christian nods as she takes his hands and pulls him into her own personal tornado.
Isabelle Lightwood is definitely not his type.
Her breath is warm agaisnt his neck as she leans in, arms around his neck as they sway to the non-playing music. "I don't like you." Christian tells her because he doesn't. He doesn't like how she giggles at his hair or comments on his sweaters. He doesn't like her.
"I know." she whispers softly as his hands move to her hips. The lights above them flicker, the hallway is empty and Christian knows that they're not supposed to be together, not supposed to be like this but it doesn't matter. He's with Isabelle and she doesn't like him either.
He teaches her how to cook a few days later, when she sits on the counter top and watches him with her glassy eyes. Christian doesn't let her know it bothers him. So he stammers and drops things and she giggles everytime. He hates it, he loathes it. How she has such control over him and she has no idea.
"You've burnt half of everything we've made." He raises his eyebrows at her, Isabelle flips her hair and shrugs.
"I made soup." she grins and pulls him in again, her fingers play with the thin fabric of his shirt. "That has to count for something, right?"
He shakes his head and stares at her. Flour on her nose, hair disarray. It's so unfair. She's not his type but she still makes him dizzy. So so dizzy that he can't think. "No. Not when it tasted like dog food." he chuckles, hands moving to the small of her back. Isabelle pulls away, giggling, and spins as she tosses some flour into his direction.
"You suck!" she yells, running around the kitchen as he tosses sugar towards her. "You suck! You suck! You suck!" He catches her, arms around her tiny waist. He realizes that liking Isabelle Lightwood is like walking on ice, like playing with fire. So he goes ahead and doesn't like her.
But then she reads his mind, a frown on her pretty face. "I don't like you." she tells him this time and he kisses her.
She kisses back.
They don't talk about it the next day or the next week. Simon tells him Isabelle doesn't trust anyone and Christian tells him he doesn't like her. Simon just laughs.
She spins back into him two weeks after the kiss, Christian realizes how much he missed her but he doesn't say anything. They find themselves in the park where Isabelle lies down on the grass and he sits next to her.
"I thought vampires didn't like the sunlight?" She asks, eyes closed. Christian laughs but doesn't answer. He thinks of how soft her lips felt against his, how she tasted like sugar and chocolate. "Christian?"
"Oh." He shakes his head and starts drawing circles on her palm with his fingers. "We don't." He tells her and pauses. He wishes it were easy. "Simon said you didn't trust anyone."
"Now you know why, huh? I told him not to tell anyone."
"Why not, Izzy?" He asks curiously because he can't think straight. He's still so dizzy, still so confused.
She sits up and shrugs. "I just don't. It's easier that way." He thinks of Lissa, he thinks of Rose and he thinks of Isabelle. He doesn't understand but he doesn't say anything. He never says anything and he blames Isabelle because she's crazy and fun. She takes everything and he doesn't know what to do.
He cups her cheeks and pulls her closer until their foreheads touch. "Trust me." He breathes her in, forgets how to think and kisses her again.
He doesn't really know what happens next. One minute Isabelle kisses him and the next she avoids him. He loses his breath, her lips on his neck, his hands in her shirt and then nothing.
Christian tells her he loves her one night during the first rainfall of the summer. Her eyes bright under the lamp post as she throws her head back and dances like a three year-old. Christian watches her, the water splashes under her feet and the drops of rain dampen his dark hair. Spinning, and spinning. Isabelle takes his hands and pulls him in again.
And he takes her in as well, under the rain her make-up runs and her hair sticks to her cheeks but her laugh doesn't change. The light in her eyes and the color of her cheeks. Christian realizes he's playing with fire and this time he's not afraid. "Don't ever let go, Christian." she whispers in his ear as they dance under the moonlight. He tries to think of a thousand other cliches but nothing else comes to mind.
"I won't." is what he tells her, pulling her closer. She kisses him again, soft and slow. She tastes like rain and he wonders if he does as well.
Christian is a cynic, he believes in Biology. The beating of a heart and blood in the veins. There was no such thing as destiny and love but looking at Isabelle now, he forgets all those things and just thinks of her. "I love you." he says, the words tumble out of his mouth.
"Y-you love me?" she asks, it comes out as almost a whimper. He stares at her, unsure of what to say.
"I do." he nods slowly, leaning his forehead agaisnt hers. Isabelle bites her lip and pulls back.
"I-" She breathes. "I can't do this, Christian." she shakes her head and he feels heavy. She backs away and goes back inside. He stands under the rain and he feels stupid. He forgets how to breathe and how to think properly. He doesn't feel anything, he can't feel anything. Not when Isabelle took everything with her.
He finds her with tear stained cheeks and running mascara in the library a few days later. He forgets how he feels around her until she's there again. Isabelle leans her back against a bookcase and wipes her face, he doesn't think. He never thinks anymore. He sits next to her on the floor and takes her hand.
"I'm sorry." he murmurs as she leans her head on his shoulder. He misses her, he misses her so much.
"I just-" She pauses and squeezes his hand. "I don't let people in and I've let you in. Simon was right, I don't trust anyone and I let myself trust you. I can't-I just can't. I can't do this."
"I'm sorry." he says again because he has no idea what else to do. Isabelle stares at him, confused. "I just-I shouldn't have said it. I knew-I knew you didn't trust anyone. I just. I knew and I did it. I want to fix it. I want to fix it."
"I wish you could." She sniffs as she walks away.
"Did you mean it?" she asks, a day later when she finds him by the courtyard. Her white dress billows in the summer breeze, her eyes sparkle in the sunlight. He wants to kiss her again but he's not sure if she'll let him.
He nods as she walks towards him. "I did-I do."
She kisses him again, smiling this time. "I don't-I love you too." She tells him, he pulls her closer because Isabelle Lightwood is a tornado, she crushes everything and takes and takes with her shimmering dresses and breezy laughter.
"I know." He murmurs as he wipes the tears off her cheeks. Christian Ozera decided long ago that she was never his type but then again, maybe he wasn't her type either. So she pulls him and he gets pulled because maybe that's just how they work. Christian decides that he likes spinning with her, he likes the way she giggles at his hair and the way she comments on his sweater. He likes her.