Some Comfort Here Ch. 01

Brandon smiled, both at her little quirk and at the memory of the first audition, when he'd been out drinking the night before and couldn't crack the audition because of a bad hangover. More than his family, friends, or anyone else, it was Isabel who had been seriously angry, berating him for being so reckless. And it was because of her that he got motivated to crack the audition the second time, even if that meant dyeing his hair blonde and getting a tan.

"I'll always remember the way you scolded me for not making it the first time," he smiled. "I wonder if I'd ever been scolded that hard."

"You hadn't," she spoke around a piece of meat, her eyes not leaving the book for once. "You're spoilt."

He was. Then he'd met her and realised how fortunate he was and how he'd taken his happiness for granted.

"You see, I've never had dreams of my own," she spoke again. "Never knew how to. But I see you and Ben and Mark, and realise that dreams do come true." She looked at him. "You've covered ABBA on this album, right?"

"Yes. I Have A Dream." Their first album. Fifteen songs—two covers and thirteen originals. He hadn't stopped singing the songs since the recording. "And it's never too late to start dreaming." He reached out to give her hand a soft squeeze. "You haven't lost anything, Izzi. We want you to live again."

"Hey! Izzi." The door opened and the figure of Kyle appeared, blonde locks falling into his blue eyes. He was one-fifth of the band, a talented singer, guitar and piano player, and his childhood buddy. He lived a few metres away from Brandon's home. "You two snuggling over lunch?"

Isabel had returned to her book. Brandon shook his head and sighed.

"I'm just keeping her company," he explained. "What're ye doing here, MacEgan?"

That was stupid to ask since they spent every free hour at the café. It was the local hangout spot.

"Myself and Mark were just wandering about," he said, leaning against the door frame. "Thought we'd drop in." His gaze turned to Isabel again. She had wrapped her arms around her school bag, clearly uncomfortable in the presence of Kyle.

She'd never really liked him. Until the band happened Kyle was something of a troublemaker, always getting into scuffles and fights and calling others names. He fancied Isabel for a while, but Ben was protective, Brandon had already reserved his seat, and Isabel showed no interest in him. He had moved on to other girls soon enough.

"Mark's also here?" He rose from the stool, afraid of leaving Isabel alone, lest Kyle bothered her. Even though they were friends, he could get really troublesome sometimes.

"Yeah. He got tempted by the nachos there." He gestured at the counter, from where Mark was walking towards the pantry, still chewing.

"Hiya, folks." He brushed past Kyle and entered the pantry, smiling at Isabel. She replied with a nod, proceeding to pack her book. Mark was another member of the band, tall, stocky, with blue eyes and dimpled smile. The four of them- he, Mark, Ben, and Kyle- had first put the band together in school. Then Mae had got in touch with Louis Walsh and it had all rolled from there.

Mark and Isabel had been friends for a long time and they were close, their reserved and introverted personalities strikingly similar. Sometimes Brandon felt she was closer to Mark and Ben than she was to him.

"Aren't you participating in the concert at Hawks Well?" he asked Isabel, occupying the stool Brandon had left. Mark's voice was deep and husky, more fit for blues and soul than pop. If you closed your eyes and listened to his voice, you wouldn't be able to tell he was a White guy. "It's going to be great."

"I'm sure it is." Isabel packed her bag, zipped up, and rose from the seat. "It's just not for me."

She picked up the plate, went over to the sink and quickly washed it clean. Brandon smiled, without stopping her. Isabel was a simple girl, sincere, hardworking, grounded. Despite having spent the first fifteen years of her life in London, she'd adjusted seamlessly into this small Irish county. She didn't seem like she ever missed London.

Isabel wiped her hands, put her gloves back on, and turned to leave.

"See ya, lads." She walked past Kyle, slinging the bag on her shoulder. Brandon followed.

"Where ye goin'?" Mark called out, to which he only gestured with a wave of his hand and walked out of the pantry. Isabel was with his mom, probably trying to pay for the meal, but Mae was vigorously shaking her head and smiling. Defeated, she put the money back inside her bag and told her something, to which his mom smiled and kissed her forehead.

"Izzi." He caught up with her just outside the green front door of the café. She turned, her eyes questioning.

"Yes?" She pulled the scarf around her neck, wrapping it neatly. "Did I forget anything?"

"No." He hesitated, not knowing what to say. "Can I walk you home?"

"It's fine. You're needed here."

"It's close by. Won't be long."

"Exactly. I can go, Brandy."

"Please?" Brandon didn't want to plead, but it was out before he could help it. Isabel sighed.

"Okay." She nodded, turning to walk again. Brandon started walking beside her, looking down at the small, sweet girl next to him. They'd known each other for a little more than two years, since she started visiting Ireland. But since the last four or five months, she seemed distant and strange. She'd always been quiet and private, but this was so different. No one had seen her smile in months now. The antidepressants had somehow made her quieter.

"Can I ask you something?" he said, their feet making crunching sounds as they stepped on dry leaves on the road. She nodded.

"Is everything okay at school?" he asked. "I mean, do they treat you normally?"

"Who's 'they'?"

"Everyone. Teachers, students..."

"Hmm-mm. Everything's fine."

"You sure?"

She looked at him, her feet stopping awkwardly. "What's there to be sure about?" her voice was stern. "Who would want to hang around with a girl who tried taking her own life? I'm mental. Weird."

Brandon frowned, his hands fisting at his sides. He'd finished school a couple of years ago, so he hadn't forgotten what the students could be like. Small town kids were less civil than city kids. They often forgot decorum or manners. He'd always been the popular guy. But he'd seen Mark get bullied and Kyle bullying. It wasn't pretty.

"Do they say that about you?" he asked, the frown still sitting on his brow. She shrugged.

"Not to my face. But I understand." She started walking again. "I don't want to hang out with anybody, anyway."

"Izzi." He held her hand, stopping her. He pulled her close to him, until he could properly hold her in his arms. Isabel stared up at his face, not surprised, not delighted, not embarrassed. He wondered if she felt anything anymore. Her face was almost always blank.

"Promise me you'll tell me- tell anybody, for that matter- if you're ever bullied?" He said to her, his hands on her slender waist. "You won't hide. Promise me?"

"I don't promise." She brushed his hands away, turning from him. "I've never been bullied, so I won't even know." She glanced back at him. "Stop worrying. No one worries about me."

"You couldn't be more mistaken." He crossed his arms across his chest, walking over until he was in front of her. "Everyone worries about you. Dr Barrett, Emily, Ben, my family, Mark, his family." He sighed. "I worry about you. Because I care. We all care. And we want you to be safe."

"Safe." She repeated the word, as if hearing it for the first time. "Safe." She said it again, starting to walk. Brandon shook his head, knew the mistake he'd made. He tried to catch up with her. "Izzi. Wait," he called out.

Isabel stopped, looked at him with eyes that were dark and scary. For a moment, she just stared. Brandon half-expected a slap, but instead she opened her mouth to speak.

"Why did no one care about my safety when I'd been locked in the basement?" she asked him.

Brandon opened his mouth, tried to come up with the right words, but nothing came out. Isabel walked away, tightly folding her arms around herself. Brandon didn't follow. She needed her space. He stood there watching as she disappeared into the lane on the right, the sight of her black hair and blue skirt lingering in front of his eyes.

"Still hanging out with the city lass, eh?" A hand fell on his shoulder. It was Damien, his former schoolmate. Brandon didn't reply. A hoarse laugh came from his mate.

"She's pretty. But she's mental," he whispered to him. "You're the ladies man. I thought you'd know better."

"It's none of your business, Damien," he tried to not get angry. "Stop saying all that about her."

"I don't care, really," he shrugged. "I'm just saying you deserve better."

Brandon knocked his hand away and turned to walk back home. He knew Isabel's reality. And he wanted her no matter what.

(To be continued)