Forgive and Forget: A TCOAAL Story

The first thing Andrew woke up to was the sound of his name, soft and muffled, as if spoken through a dream.

"Andy... Andy..."

His eyes snapped open, and he sat up abruptly, his heart pounding in his chest. The room was dim, the early morning light filtering through the thin curtains of their small, cluttered apartment. He turned his head, his green eyes landing on Isa, who was still asleep beside him. Her curly hair was a wild mess, splayed across the pillow like a dark halo, and her lips were slightly parted, a trail of drool slipping down her chin. She looked peaceful, almost angelic, if not for the fact that her hand was resting squarely on his groin.

"Isa, what the fuck?" Andrew muttered under his breath, his voice low and rough from sleep. He didn't wake her, though. She seemed so deep in her dreams, her breathing steady and calm, that he couldn't bring himself to disturb her-even if her hand was dangerously close to his dick.

With a sigh, Andrew leaned back against the headboard, running a hand through his disheveled raven hair. His mind was already racing, the remnants of his nightmare clinging to him like a second skin. It was the same dream he'd been having for months now-the fire, the screams, Ashley's face as he left her behind. Even after all this time, the guilt was a heavy weight on his chest, a constant reminder of the life he'd tried to leave behind.

He glanced at Isa again, his gaze softening as he watched her sleep. She was the one bright spot in his otherwise bleak existence. With her, the loneliness didn't feel quite as suffocating, the weight of his past not quite as crushing. But even she couldn't completely erase the shadow of Ashley that lingered in the corners of his mind.

"If you were awake, I'd shove my dick into your mouth for groping me like this," Andrew mumbled under his breath, a faint blush creeping up his neck as he gently moved Isa's hand away from his crotch. He sat up fully, rubbing his face with both hands, trying to shake off the lingering unease from his dream.

As he got out of bed and started pulling on his clothes, his eyes drifted to the window. The city outside was just waking up, the streets still quiet, the sky a pale gray. He wondered, not for the first time, if he was truly free. Free from Ashley, free from the guilt, free from the life that had been thrust upon him. At 22, he felt like he was floating, untethered, with no real direction or purpose. He didn't know how to move forward, how to build something out of the wreckage of his past.

Just as he was lost in thought, he felt a pair of arms wrap around his chest from behind, pulling him out of his reverie. He jumped slightly, startled, before realizing it was Isa.

"Good morning, hot-ass," she mumbled, her voice still thick with sleep as she pressed her cheek against his shoulder. Her short frame fit snugly against his back, her warmth seeping through the thin fabric of his shirt. "How was your night?"

Andrew's face flushed, and he cleared his throat, trying to sound nonchalant. "I-It was fine... except for the fact that you groped me in your sleep."

Isa blinked, then pulled back slightly, her cheeks turning pink as she rubbed the back of her neck. "Oh shit... sorry," she said, though the smirk that followed betrayed her amusement. "You liked it, though, didn't you?"

"Shut up," Andrew grumbled, his blush deepening.

"You can't deny it," Isa teased, her voice taking on a sing-song tone as she poked his side.

"Fuck you."

Isa laughed, the sound light and carefree, and she leaned up to poke his nose. "I love you too," she said with a grin before heading over to the small kitchenette in their cramped apartment. She ran a hand through her messy curls, sighing as she grabbed a glass of water. "Got a shift at McDonald's today. Another day of the glamorous low-wage life..."

"Hey, at least you have a job," Andrew pointed out, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag. He exhaled slowly, the smoke curling around him like a veil.

"Then why don't you get one, hot-ass?" Isa shot back, raising an eyebrow as she looked at him over the rim of her glass.

"Cause I don't wanna," Andrew replied with a shrug, his tone casual but edged with defiance.

"Asshole."

"Bitch."

Isa rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile as she finished her water. "I'll be back in a few hours. Maybe you should, I don't know, get a job or something while I'm gone."

"Yeah, yeah," Andrew muttered, waving her off with a dismissive hand.

Once Isa was gone, the apartment felt eerily quiet. Andrew stood by the window, cigarette in hand, staring out at the city below. The streets were starting to come alive, people hurrying to work, cars honking in the distance. He felt disconnected from it all, like he was watching the world move from behind a glass wall.

He took another drag from his cigarette, the nicotine doing little to calm the restlessness in his chest. He didn't know what he was doing with his life, and the uncertainty gnawed at him. But for now, he pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the faint scent of Isa's perfume that still lingered in the air. It was a small comfort, but it was enough-for now.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door-sharp, insistent, and entirely unexpected. Andrew jumped, his heart skipping a beat as he turned toward the sound. He rolled his eyes, assuming it was Isa coming back for something she'd forgotten. He walked over to the door, muttering under his breath.

"If you're gonna ask for a kiss, you should already know the answer-" he began, his tone half-teasing, half-annoyed as he swung the door open.

But it wasn't Isa standing there.

Two men in crisp blue uniforms and matching caps stood in the doorway, their expressions stern and unreadable. The badges on their chests gleamed under the dim hallway light, and Andrew felt his stomach drop. Police. His throat tightened, and a cold sweat broke out on his brow as he stared at them, his mind racing.

"Umm... can I help you?" Andrew managed to say, his voice shaky despite his efforts to sound calm. His fingers gripped the edge of the door, his knuckles turning white.

"Yes," one of the officers said, his voice clipped and professional. He glanced down at a piece of paper in his hand, squinting slightly as he read. "Are you perhaps... um... Isabel Maribona Chaves Da Silva Torres?" He butchered the name, the syllables awkward and stilted on his tongue.

Andrew blinked, his heart pounding in his chest. "Uh... you mean Isa? She just left," he said, his voice tight. He glanced over his shoulder, as if expecting her to magically appear, then back at the officers. "Why? What's this about?"

The officer's expression didn't change. He handed the paper to Andrew, his tone growing more serious. "There was a fire a few months ago that was only recently brought to our attention. An apartment complex burned down-a very large building. A lot of people died." He paused, his gaze piercing as he studied Andrew's reaction. "The fire department is investigating the cause, and they're looking for a suspect. According to our records, Ms. Torres used to live in that building. We need to ask her some questions about who else lived there and what she might know."

Andrew's breath hitched, his mind spinning. The fire. The building. Ashley. His hands trembled slightly as he stared at the paper, the words blurring together. He forced himself to swallow, to keep his voice steady. "I... I don't know much about that," he said carefully, his eyes darting between the two officers. "She moved a long time while ago."

The second officer, who had been silent until now, stepped forward. His voice was low, almost sympathetic, but there was an edge to it that made Andrew's skin crawl. "We understand this might be difficult, but it's important that we speak with her. This was a tragic incident, and we need to find out what happened. If you could let her know we stopped by, we'd appreciate it."

Andrew nodded, his throat dry. "Yeah, sure. I'll tell her."

The first officer handed him a card. "Have her call us as soon as possible. It's urgent."

Andrew took the card, his fingers brushing against the officer's gloved hand. He felt a chill run down his spine as he stared at the bold lettering: Police Department - Homicide and Arson Division.

"Will do," Andrew said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The officers nodded, their expressions unreadable, before turning and walking away. Andrew closed the door slowly, his hands shaking as he leaned against it. His mind was a whirlwind of panic and disbelief. The fire. They were investigating the fire. And they were looking for a suspect.

His chest heaved as he tried to steady his breathing, but it was no use. The memories came flooding back-the flames, the screams, Ashley's face as he left her behind. He had thought it was over, that he could finally move on. But now, the past was catching up to him, and it was only a matter of time before everything came crashing down.

Andrew looked down at the card in his hand, his vision blurring as tears threatened to spill over. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to protect Isa-or himself. All he knew was that the life he had been trying to build was hanging by a thread, and it was only a matter of time before it unravelled completely.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Isa's shift at McDonald's was grueling, as usual. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a harsh glow over the greasy counters and the endless stream of customers. She forced a smile onto her face, her cheeks aching from the effort, as she handed a tray of food to a disgruntled man in a suit.

"Have a good day!" she chirped, her voice dripping with false cheerfulness.

The man didn't even look at her, grumbling something under his breath as he snatched the tray and walked away. Isa's smile faltered the moment he was out of sight, replaced by a tired frown. She leaned against the counter, letting out a quiet sigh. It was always the same-fake smiles, empty pleasantries, and the occasional drunk customer who thought it was okay to grope her or flip her off when she didn't respond to their advances. It was exhausting, both physically and emotionally.

During her break, Isa slumped into a corner booth, a tray of fresh fries in front of her. She picked at them absently, her mind wandering as she stared at the small TV mounted on the wall. The news was on, the volume low but still audible over the din of the restaurant.

"...authorities have only just discovered the remains of a burnt apartment complex, three months after the fire occurred," the reporter was saying, her voice grave. "The building, which housed over a hundred residents, was completely destroyed. The cause of the fire is still under investigation, but officials suspect foul play. So far, the death toll has risen to 27, with many more still unaccounted for..."

Isa froze, a fry halfway to her mouth. Her violet eyes widened as she stared at the screen, her heart pounding in her chest. The footage showed the charred skeleton of the building, the blackened walls and broken windows a haunting reminder of the tragedy. She recognized it immediately-it was the building she used to live in. The building where she had grown up, where she had met Andrew, where her life had taken a turn she could never have anticipated.

Her stomach churned, and she set the fry down, her appetite gone. She connected the dots to how Andrew used to live there just 3 months ago. Wait did he...

"Isa, break's over!" her manager called from behind the counter, snapping her out of her thoughts.

She blinked, tearing her eyes away from the TV. "Yeah, coming," she muttered, though her voice lacked its usual energy. She grabbed her tray and stood, her legs feeling like lead as she made her way back to the counter.

The rest of her shift passed in a blur. She went through the motions mechanically, her mind still stuck on the news report. The burnt building, the investigation, the possibility of foul play-it all swirled in her head, a storm of emotions she couldn't quite untangle. She couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't over, that the fire was just the beginning of something much bigger. And she knew that Andrew was the caused of it. She just felt it in her gut.

When her shift finally ended, Isa clocked out and grabbed her bag, her shoulders heavy with exhaustion. She stepped outside, the cool night air a welcome relief after the stifling heat of the kitchen. As she walked home, her thoughts kept drifting back to the building, to the lives that had been lost, to the secrets that had been buried in the ashes.

She wondered if Andrew had seen the news...

-

As Isa stepped inside the apartment, the first thing she noticed was the faint haze of cigarette smoke hanging in the air. Andrew was standing by the window, his silhouette framed by the dim glow of the city lights outside. He was smoking, as usual, his green eyes distant and troubled as he stared out at the night. The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to choke on.

Isa's heart raced as she closed the door behind her, her hands trembling slightly. She had so much to say, so many questions burning in her mind, but the words caught in her throat as she looked at him. Taking a deep breath, she crossed the room and reached out, her voice soft but urgent.

"Andy... we need to talk."

Andrew turned sharply, his eyes narrowing as they met hers. For a moment, he just stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, his voice broke the silence, low and strained. "Fucking hell, where have you been? We need to get out of here-now!" He gestured toward the bags packed and waiting by the door, his movements frantic as he grabbed her hand, his grip tight. "Come on, Isa, we don't have time for this!"

"Wait!" Isa pulled her hand free, her voice rising as she stepped back. Her violet eyes locked onto his, filled with a mix of fear and determination. "Andy... I know everything now. I know what happened to Ashley." She paused, her chest heaving as she forced the next words out. "You set the fire, didn't you?"

Andrew froze, his body going rigid. The cigarette between his fingers burned forgotten as he stared at her, his green eyes darkening with something she couldn't quite place-guilt, anger, fear, or maybe all three. The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating, before he finally spoke, his voice low and hollow.

"I don't wanna talk about it."

Isa's heart sank, her stomach twisting into knots. She had hoped he would deny it, would tell her she was wrong, that it wasn't true. But his silence was all the confirmation she needed. The weight of his admission-or lack thereof-pressed down on her, making it hard to breathe. But she didn't care. After all, she still loved Andrew

"Andy..." she whispered. "...Why?"

Andrew's jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "You don't understand," he said, his voice rough and defensive. "You don't know what it was like-what she was like. Ashley... she wasn't just my sister. She was my fucking jailer. She controlled everything-my life, my choices, my fucking mind. I couldn't take it anymore, Isa. I just... I couldn't." Andrew looked out the window "I didn't mean for it to go that far. I just... I wanted out. I wanted to be free. But it got out of control, and before I knew it, the whole building was-" He cut himself off, his chest heaving as he looked away, his face twisted with guilt and regret.

Isa's mind raced, her thoughts a chaotic whirlwind of emotions. She wanted to be angry, to scream at him, to demand answers. But all she felt was a deep, aching sadness-for Andrew. For the boy she had known since childhood, the one who had always been her safe haven, now standing in front of her, broken and haunted by his own actions.

"Ok Andy... let's leave..." She grabbed his hand, the same way they did when they were kids. "Together. But you must be honest with me, Andy. No more secrets. No more lies."

Andrew looked at her, his green eyes searching hers for a long moment before he finally nodded. "Okay," he said quietly. "No more secrets."