"Ismabelle"

Her name is Isabelle. She has golden hair, flowing down and covering one of her eyes. Her eyes are deep ocean blue; she's beautiful. This is the beginning of our story.

My name is Zack. Nothing special here, light brown hair and gray eyes. Well, they aren't actually grey but they look it; they feel it sometimes. I get looks, maybe because of the black eyes I tend to have. Maybe it's the cuts on my faces, not many people really understand.

I cough up blood. This fucker can fight. His fist connects with my face this time, sending me stumbling to the left. I look at him and give him a bloody smile. I'm loving this. He's six-four, six inches taller than me. He looks like he weighs about 250 pounds, he could crush me by just sitting on me. I won't let him though.

"Is that all you got pipsqueak?" He yells at me. If only he knew what I'm doing right now.

I start laughing almost hysterically. I can't control it; it's how I am. Actually, there's one more thing that I can't control. Myself. There's a flash of red, and suddenly my fist connects with his face. He falls to the ground. Unconscious. He's lucky. Sometimes, I lose more than just my mind. But it's over now.

"You know you shouldn't fight so much, it just isn't good for you!" Isabelle says to me later that day. She's not a big fan of fighting. I wish I could show her the insane power you feel when you fight, that seemingly endless strength pouring in from who knows where.

"Oh come on babe, it isn't-" She cuts me off.

"Don't call me that. Ever." Her voice is harsh and rough like sandpaper. "He used to call me that." She's talking about her ex-boyfriend, Liam. It's been six months since, but it still hangs over her like death itself.

"Sorry, Isabelle. I won't do it again." My head goes down to the papers on my desk in front of me. There's a mess of words and symbols but all I see is one thing. All I see is her nickname that I gave her. I don't know why I always hesitate to use it. "Ismabelle."

She smiles faintly, that's how she smiles best. She doesn't say anything, just looks me right in the eyes. She looks at me with those big blue eyes of hers. They're endless, deeper than the ocean. They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, if that's true her soul goes on forever. It's endless and eternal, older than time itself.

"Remember the story behind that name?" I ask her.

"Yes." She nods at me, reaches over and grabs my hand.

It was all back in an unfamiliar place, a place we ended up wandering into together. I'm the curious sort of guy, new places amaze me. I have to explore them. So there I was, exploring a new place without anyone to accompany me. I love art, and new art museums are like heaven to me. Apparently they are to her too.

I knew her before then, but things changed that day. This was before I got into fighting. I was wandering the halls of some unknown art museum when I saw her standing there adjacent to a window. The sun poured onto her, shining through her.

I could never describe the way she looked right then. I mean, she's beautiful to begin with, but that day she was a goddess. Her golden hair in the sunlight radiated, the paintings looked like nothing in comparison. Not the finest art in all the world could compare to her right then. She was my Athena.

"Isabelle! What are you doing here?" She turned suddenly and looked at me surprised.

"I should ask you the same question! I'm here on an art trip with the school!" I forgot that they were going there that day, bad day to skip out on classes to go there. If the teacher had seen me I would have been neck deep in detentions.
"Oh right... That's today... Oops." I gave her a smile that said "I'm in shit now."

"What? Afraid that the teacher will find you?" She started laughing lightly. "He's not going to notice you Zack, he has over one hundred students on this trip. He can't possibly remember them all." She had a point; she was right, like usual.

We just kinda stared into each other right then. It was the beginning of our relationship right there, when we truly met each other. She gave me that faint smile, and grabbed my hand with a strong but gentle grasp. She tugged at me, trying to get me to follow here somewhere. I did follow her, into the light filled hallway behind her.

"What do you think of the view?" She asked me quietly as if to make sure only I could hear. I looked out the windows and saw the city that sprawled out in front of us. The buildings were old, of beautiful Gothic architecture. Trees of all sizes stood strong, soaking up the light with their green leaves. It was almost as breathtaking as she was.

"It's... beautiful." I always have trouble getting words out when something like that lies before me. "But you have it beat." Unless of course I'm not staring directing into her eyes.

"I'm speechless..." She turned to me and looked me right in my grey eyes.

"Is Ma Belle." Or roughly translated into, "Is my beautiful." I came closer to her, never letting my eyes see anything but the endless expanse of her eyes. She kept her eyes locked on mine too. I leaned in. Closed my eyes. Let our lips lock; kissed her.

"It's been three months since as of today." I smile at her, and look back at the papers on my desk. I'm eventually going to have to finish that story aren't I? Isn't it funny how thoughts can go through your mind that almost seem totally unrelated to what's going on?

"And?" She knows what's coming next, just likes to play games with me.

"And I love you, Ismabelle." I pull her in for a kiss. Our lips lock once more. You know, you'd think that after three months each kiss just wouldn't be as magical as the first but it is. That's just how love is. I don't want this moment to ever end. But eventually you've got to wake up.

I open my eyes and the light enters them, blinding me temporarily. I'm back to where I was when I fell asleep, a year after that day. Isabelle and I broke up two months ago. I've been dreaming about her ever since.

I look up from my pillow to the clock on my beside table; it's two o'clock in the afternoon. I love Saturdays for that reason in particular. I used to get up earlier to go see her, but those days are long gone. I slide myself out of bed and get dressed. I sleepily walk upstairs with my eyes half closed.

"Wake up Zack, I've been waiting here for you for two hours! Could you be any less oblivious?" That voice... That laugh... I open my eyes and look at the person who now stands at the top of the staircase. Could it really be?

"Isabelle? What are you doing here?" My heart races. My head gets a little light. I'm still not used to seeing her. She gives me her world famous smile. I almost drop dead.

"Call me Ismabelle Zack." She reaches out and grabs me by the hand the same way she did at the museum and helps me up the stairs. I find myself looking straight into her eyes, and I still have no idea what's going on. "I'm sorry for everything, could you forgive me?"

"Of course Is...Ma...Belle..." It's been what feels like an eternity since I've said that. It's been too long. I see that look in her eyes, that familiar look. I kiss her, still just as magical. Love is forever.
-Zero