Forgive and Forget: A TCOAAL Story

The room was a chaotic mess-sheets tangled and twisted, pillows scattered across the floor like casualties of a fierce battle. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and smoke, a testament to the intensity of what had just transpired. Andrew sat up on the edge of the bed, completely naked except for a thin sheet draped loosely over his lower half. A cigarette dangled from his lips, the ember glowing faintly as he took a slow drag. His eyes closed softly, the lines of his face relaxed for once, as if the weight of the world had momentarily lifted.

Beside him, Isa lay sprawled across the bed, her body glistening with a sheen of sweat. Her dark hair clung to her forehead, and her arms were wrapped tightly around a pillow, as if it were the only thing grounding her. Her violet eyes, usually round and full of mischief, were half-lidded, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips as she glanced up at Andrew.

"So... that really was something, huh, hot-ass?" she teased, her voice low and husky, still tinged with the remnants of sex.

Andrew exhaled a plume of smoke, his lips curling into a soft smile as he looked down at her. "Yeah," he admitted, his voice rough but warm. "We should do it again sometime."

Isa chuckled, the sound light and melodic, as she reached out to poke him in the shoulder. "Can't get enough of me, can you?" she teased, her smirk widening.

Andrew raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning into a playful grin. "Now, don't get cocky. If you weren't my childhood friend, I'd just call you my cock-sleeve."

Isa rolled her eyes, her cheeks flushing slightly despite her nonchalant demeanour. "Yeah, yeah. I believe you," she said sarcastically, nuzzling her face into the pillow. Her voice softened as she added, "So, uh... where does this put us now?" There was a hint of vulnerability in her tone, a slight blush creeping across her cheeks as she avoided his gaze.

Andrew took another drag from his cigarette, his emerald eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he considered her question. "What do you mean? We're best friends," he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Isa propped herself up on one elbow, her violet eyes locking onto his. "Well, we're more than just best friends, right?" she pressed, her smirk returning. "We slept together. We had sex. I think that makes us a couple..."

Andrew hesitated, his expression unreadable as he stared at the ceiling. "We are more than best friends," he admitted after a moment, his voice quiet. "But not a couple."

Isa's eyebrows shot up, her smirk fading into a look of confusion. "Huh? Why not?" she asked, her voice tinged with a mix of frustration and hurt. She sat up straighter, her dark circles and tired eyes more noticeable in the dim light.

Andrew shrugged, his gaze still fixed on the ceiling as he took another drag from his cigarette. "Because I'm not the dating type," he said bluntly, his tone matter-of-fact.

Isa frowned, her arms crossing over her chest. "Then why did we have sex?" she challenged, her voice rising slightly.

Andrew finally looked at her, his emerald eyes softening as they met hers. "Because you're different," he said simply, his voice low and sincere. "You're not like anyone else."

Isa's frown deepened, her usual soft arched eyebrows now knitting together in confusion. "And? What makes me different?" she pressed, her voice tinged with both curiosity and frustration.

Andrew reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek in a gesture so tender it took her by surprise. "I care about you," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "That's what makes you different."

Isa sighed softly, her shoulders slumping as she rolled her eyes. "Whatever, hottass," she muttered, though there was no real bite to her words. She leaned back against the pillows, her arms crossing over her chest with a smirk. "But don't blame me if Ashley slaughters your dick for fucking another girl."

Andrew laughed, the sound deep and genuine as he shook his head. "I think she'd castrate you first," he said, his tone teasing. "She's too obsessed with me to harm me."

"Well, thank fuck she ain't here," Isa muttered, her Brazilian accent slipping through as she reached over and plucked the cigarette from Andrew's fingers. She took a long drag, exhaling a cloud of smoke directly into his face. Andrew waved it away with his hand, his smirk returning as he watched her.

"I won't let anything happen to you," he said, his voice softer now, his teasing tone replaced by something more serious. "Don't worry. We'll be fine, Isa. Everything will be okay. I promise..."

Isa chuckled, the sound warm and genuine as she nodded. "Yeah," she said, her violet eyes meeting his. "I trust you, Andy."

Isa's expression darkened, her violet eyes narrowing as she studied Andrew's face. The playful glint that had been there moments ago was gone, replaced by a seriousness that made the air between them feel heavier. "The question is... do you trust me?" she asked, her voice low and steady.

Andrew froze, his green eyes widening slightly as he stared at her. The cigarette between his fingers burned unnoticed as the weight of her words settled over him. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, he looked away, his jaw tightening.

Isa didn't let up. She leaned forward, her gaze piercing. "What happened with Ashley, Andy?" she pressed, her tone gentle but insistent.

Andrew's response was immediate, almost instinctive. "Nothing happened, Isa," he said, his voice clipped, his defenses rising like a wall.

But Isa wasn't deterred. She reached out, her hand brushing against his arm in a gesture that was both comforting and firm. "Andy, we've known each other for 16 years," she said, her voice softening. "You can trust me, okay? Whatever it is, you don't have to carry it alone."

Andrew's face twisted, a mix of anger and pain flashing across his features. "How the fuck do I know?" he snapped, his voice rising. "I've been betrayed by people close to me before. My own fucking parents left me and Ashley to starve. And you expect me to just trust you? Just like that?"

Isa flinched, hurt flickering across her face before she schooled her expression back into one of calm determination. "If you don't want to share because you're not ready yet, then I understand," she said carefully, her voice steady despite the ache in her chest. "But if you're not sharing because you don't trust me, then-"

"Ashley is fucking dead!"

The words exploded from Andrew's lips, sharp and raw, cutting through the tension like a knife. Isa's breath caught in her throat, her violet eyes widening in shock as she stared at him. The room seemed to shrink, the air growing thick with the weight of his confession.

"What?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Andrew's face darkened, his green eyes clouded with something Isa couldn't quite place. He looked down at the floor, his bangs falling over his face like a curtain, shielding him from her gaze. The silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the faint sound of their breathing.

"Andy... I'm so sorry," Isa said finally, her voice trembling. She reached out to touch his arm again, but he pulled away, his body tense.

"It's okay," he mumbled, his voice hollow. He didn't look at her, his gaze fixed on some distant point only he could see.

Isa's mind raced, a storm of emotions swirling inside her. She couldn't deny the small, selfish part of her that felt a flicker of relief. She had hated Ashley for as long as she could remember. Ashley had always been there, a shadow looming over her childhood, interrupting every moment she tried to share with Andrew. And after the incident with Nina, Ashley had made sure Isa stayed away from him, cutting her out of his life entirely. The thought of Andrew finally being free from Ashley's control brought a strange sense of comfort, even as guilt gnawed at her.

"You don't seem sad..." Andrew's voice cut through her thoughts, his tone sharp and accusing. His green eyes narrowed as he studied her face, searching for something she wasn't sure she wanted him to find.

Isa shrugged, her expression carefully neutral. "I am sad for you," she said quietly. "But that doesn't mean I'm sad myself." She paused, her fingers fiddling with the edge of the bedsheet. "I mean, I never really liked Ashley. For me, she was just your sister."

Andrew opened his mouth to argue, but the words died on his lips. He couldn't deny the truth in her words. Ashley and Isa had always been at odds, their mutual hatred a constant undercurrent in their lives. But for him, Ashley's death was more than just the loss of a sister. It was a reminder of his own failures, his own guilt. He had been the cause of her death-and the death of so many others.

"How did she die?" Isa asked, her voice breaking the silence. She took a drag from her cigarette, the smoke curling around her like a veil. "If you want to tell me, that is..."

Andrew bit his lip, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "It's a long story," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Isa nodded, her violet eyes softening as she studied him. She didn't push, didn't press for more. Instead, she turned her gaze to the broken window, the moonlight streaming in and casting long shadows across the room.

"I see..." she said quietly, her voice tinged with a sadness that went deeper than words.

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Little Isa's life was far from easy. Growing up under the roof of parents who were physically present but emotionally distant-and often cruel-left deep scars on her young heart. Her older siblings, no less harsh, added to the weight she carried, their taunts and teasing a constant reminder of her place in the family. The world felt dark and heavy, a place where laughter was rare and tears were often met with scorn. But even in the bleakest of times, there was one ray of sunshine in her life: Andrew.

Andrew was her shy neighbour, a boy just a year older than her. To Isa, he was more than just a friend-he was a beacon of hope, a reminder that not everything in her world was cold and unkind. She remembered the day they met as vividly as if it had happened yesterday. It was a day that started with pain but ended with the promise of something beautiful.

She had been sitting alone in the park, her small hands clutching her beloved ballerina kitten plushie. The once-pristine toy was now covered in mud and dirt, a casualty of her older siblings' cruelty. They had thrown it into the mud, laughing as she cried, calling her a "cry-baby" when her tears fell. For a sensitive girl like Isa, the hurt was too much to bear. She had run away, clutching her plushie tightly, not looking back.

As she sat on a bench, her knees pulled to her chest, she stared down at Kittyrina, her plushie's name. The mud streaked across its pink dress felt like a reflection of her own life-dirty, broken, and unloved. She was lost in her thoughts when something unexpected happened.

A ball rolled toward her from the bushes.

Isa blinked, her tear-streaked face lifting as she stared at the ball. It came to a stop at her feet, and for a moment, she just looked at it, unsure of what to do. Then, slowly, she reached down and picked it up. She stood, her small hands gripping the ball tightly, and began to play. She tossed it in the air, kicked it against a tree, and even positioned Kittyrina on a nearby stone so the plushie could "watch."

"And Kittyrina scores again! You're the best!" Isa shouted with glee, her voice ringing out in the empty park. For the first time that day, she smiled, her laughter light and carefree as she twirled around with her plushie in hand. But then, she felt it-a presence behind her.

She turned, her violet eyes widening as she saw a boy standing there. He had raven-black hair and bright green eyes that seemed to glow in the sunlight. He was watching her with a mix of curiosity and awe, as if he had never seen someone so full of life before.

"Ah, hello!" Isa said, her smile widening as she greeted him.

The boy shifted nervously, his hands fidgeting at his sides. "Hey... I came here to get my ball," he said, his voice soft and hesitant.

Isa looked down at the ball in her hands before glancing back up at him. "Oh! Here it is," she said, gently rolling it back to him. The boy bent down to pick it up, his movements slow and deliberate. When he straightened, he offered her a small, shy smile.

"T-thanks... What's your name?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly, as if it had taken all his courage just to speak.

"Oh! My name is Isabel, but everyone calls me Isa!" she replied, her enthusiasm bubbling over. "What's your name?"

The boy looked away, his cheeks tinged with pink as he rubbed his arm nervously. "My name is Andrew... but my sister calls me Andy."

"Can I call you Andy?" Isa asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Andrew hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Y-yeah..."

"Yipeee!" Isa cheered, jumping up and down with joy. She ran over to him, her plushie clutched tightly in her arms. "Can I be your friend, Andy? I promise I'll be the best friend you'll ever have!" she said, her voice filled with hope. For a girl who had so few friends, the thought of having someone like Andrew in her life was nothing short of magical.

Andrew's shy smile widened, and he nodded. "Yeah, I'd love to be your friend..."

The two children spent the next hour playing together, kicking the ball back and forth and even including Kittyrina in their games. Isa's laughter filled the air, a sound so pure and joyful that it seemed to brighten the entire park. But as the sun began to dip lower in the sky, a voice called out, sharp and impatient.

"Andy!"

Andrew froze, his smile fading as he turned toward the sound. "Oh no... I forgot about Leyley," he muttered, his voice tinged with guilt.

Isa tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. "Who's Leyley?"

"My sister, Ashley. I call her Leyley," Andrew explained, his tone uneasy.

The voice called out again, closer this time. Andrew's nervousness was palpable as he picked up the ball. "I really need to go now..."

"Andy, wait!" Isa reached out, grabbing his hand. The contact made Andrew blush, but he didn't pull away. "Can we please play again soon?" she asked, her violet eyes wide with hope.

Andrew hesitated, his gaze softening as he looked at her. Then, he nodded. "Of course, Isa."

"Yayyy!" Isa beamed, letting go of his hand and waving as he turned to leave. "Bye-bye, Andy!"

"See you later, Isa..." Andrew called back, his voice carrying a warmth that made Isa's heart swell.

As she watched him disappear into the distance, Isa felt a pang of sadness. She was alone again, but this time, it was different. This time, she had hope. The promise of seeing Andrew again soon was enough to keep the darkness at bay.

But the moment was short-lived.

"Isa!" a sharp voice called out, cutting through the peaceful atmosphere. It was her mother, striding toward her with her father in tow. Both wore expressions of anger, their eyes cold and unyielding.

"Where did you go? We were worried sick!" her mother snapped, her voice dripping with venom. "You don't want to be a daughter who causes trouble, do you?"

Isa looked down at the ground, her small shoulders slumping under the weight of their disapproval. "No, mamã..." she whispered, her voice trembling.

"Then don't do it again!" her mother hissed, grabbing Isa's hand roughly and dragging her away. Isa winced, the pain in her wrist nothing compared to the ache in her heart. Tears welled up in her eyes as she was pulled back into the darkness of her world.

But even as the tears fell, a small spark of hope remained. Andrew had promised they would play again, and for Isa, that promise was enough to light her way.