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miniscule-meow · 23 days

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Isabell and the Lads CH 2: The Healing Process (2.5)

Masterpost

First Part | Last Part | Next Part

Word Count: ~1.9k

Warnings: none? This one is pretty cozy

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“Zeke it is like, two AM. What are you doing?” Marcus leans against the door frame to their shared office space. Zeke is sitting on the floor, an upholstery staple gun in his hand. Strewn around him are piles of books, scraps of fabric, a pair of scissors, and all of the doll furniture they made today.

“I’m curtaining off part of this shelf,” Zeke responds, nodding to the bookshelf he’s sitting in front of before shooting another two staples into the underside of the shelf.

“Uh, okay?” Marcus says, looking across the scene with visible confusion, “Mystery solved then, I guess.”

“It’s so Isabell can have her own space. You know, something that isn’t a box or a dollhouse,” he gives his roommate a pointed look.

“Alright, that’s fair,” Marcus rubs the back of his neck, pushing himself off the doorframe, “This couldn’t wait until morning?”

“Nope,” Zeke responds simply, placing the staple gun down and picking up the scissors. He cuts a slit in the curtain, an entryway for Isabell.

So far, he’s curtained off a little more than two thirds of the shelf, the smaller section will be left open so she can be easily picked up or dropped off. The larger section of the shelf will get walled off with another swatch of fabric for her privacy. But first, they have to arrange the furniture in there.

Marcus sighs, scanning the floor around him carefully, before looking around the rest of the room. His tired eyes eventually land on where Isabell is sitting, blanket bundled around her on Zeke’s sewing table. He crosses the room in a few easy strides and plops down in the desk chair. His arm rests down on the table shortly followed by his head laying down against the back of his hand. After a slow, lethargic blink he sighs again, looking at her.

“Was this his idea, or your idea,” Marcus mumbles quietly to her. He looks more than just a little silly with his cheek squished against his hand like that.

“Um,” she tenses. If she tells him that it was her idea, then he might be mad at her for causing all this noise at two in the morning. But, if she tells him that it was Zeke’s idea, then he might get mad at Zeke, and then Zeke might get mad at her. Zeke is already frustrated with her anyway; she bit him after all.

So the question becomes, should she make one human more upset with her, or should she have both humans be annoyed?

The room was too big for her to go back to sleep. She could have tried, but they ran the risk of her forgetting where she was when she woke up again. That was something that both her and Zeke wanted to avoid. With the dollhouse and the shoe box both being non-options, this was the best they could come up with. Really, it was sort of a mutual agreement they had.

“Hey, relax,” Marcus mumbles with a tired laugh. Zeke turns, glancing over at them out of the corner of his eye. He looks between them for a moment, likely checking that his excitable roommate is keeping his hands to himself. Zeke points to her, then flashes a quick thumbs up. You good? She nods, Zeke gives one sharp nod in response and turns away, continuing to arrange furniture on the shelf. “Not every question is an interrogation,” Marcus says, oblivious to the small communication that just happened in front of him. “I’m just making conversation.”

“You just like hearing your own voice,” Zeke mumbles, placing the little couch on the shelf. He looks at its position for a moment before switching its position with another piece of furniture.

“Hm. Maybe,” Marcs says, a sleepy grin spreading across his face. He winks at Isabell.

“I’m almost done,” Zeke says, picking up the fabric that’s going to become the outer curtain. “Isabell, do you like how this is set up?”

She peers into the shelf, everything was meticulously placed, not exactly an easy feat for someone of his size. But still, she can’t imagine trying to do it herself. Even if the state of her leg wasn’t quite so critical, moving all that furniture would have been

She hasn’t been here very long, but she’s already seen that Zeke has an immaculate sense for detail. Looking into the shelf, she can see that he really thought through where everything should go. He didn’t just put the furniture in and make it fit, he arranged it for her. She nods her approval, and Zeke uses the staple gun to curtain off her room from the rest of the office.

Why did he do all of this? The question burns at the back of her mind

He could have just left her out on the coffee table. Even if that meant rotten sleep for her, it would have been significantly more convenient for him. Instead, he took the time to clear this shelf, delicately arrange all the miniature furniture inside for her, and curtain it off from the rest of the room. He even thought about how this room doesn’t specifically belong to either of the humans, and how this room gets less traffic than any of the other common areas in the house. It’s their shared office space, so she should have the most privacy here.

Why?

Even though it’s very late. Even though the process woke up his roommate. Even though he himself had just been woken up, and not too kindly at that. Even though she had just bit him. Even though she is so small, and insignificant, and practically a stranger to him.

Why?

“Just let us take care of you,” he said

“It’s just human decency,” he said… That can’t be right. That’s nothing.

What is she not seeing here? What could he possibly gain from helping her. She’s known other borrowers that wouldn’t lend a helping hand without a proper trade first. It’s very clear at this point that these humans are very literally saving her life. If she had managed to get back home, she wouldn’t have had nearly enough supplies to allow her to rest. It’s likely that she could have starved or died from dehydration when her leg decided to give out and not let her go borrowing. Or, her leg could have given out in the middle of a mission, leaving her defenseless against whatever human she was stranded with. Or, he could have gotten an infection and that could have taken her. There are so few possibilities for her where an injury like this doesn’t immediately spell the end of her life.

She can’t repay the humans for this. There is no equal trade for what they’re doing for her.

She observes these humans for a moment. Zeke, setting aside the staple gun, and tidying the books around him. They’ll need a new home since they’ve been evicted for her sake. Marcus dozes beside her, his blonde hair is tied back, but a few wavy strands still fall into his face.

What’s in it for them?

What do they want from her?

These thoughts continue to gnaw at her when Zeke approaches. He looks down at his roommate, asleep sprawled across the desk. Zeke huffs, rolling his eyes, but a small smile tugs at his lips. It’s good to see that they do more than just tolerate each other. They must have been friends for some time- not that she should care about the social relationships of the humans here. She hasn’t even figured out what they really want from her, she shouldn’t care about whether or not they actually get along.

Zeke brings a hand to Marcus’ shoulder and nudges him awake. Marcus groans in protest.

“Go to bed, I’m going to have to listen to you complain all day tomorrow if you try to sleep like this,” Zeke says quietly. Marcus heaves a deep sigh but gets up. He mumbles incoherently as he trudges across the hall to his bedroom. Once Marcus leaves, Zeke turns his attention down to her, lowering himself down slightly so he isn’t looming straight over her.

Her heart skips like it always does when she becomes his sole focus. He moves slowly, full of intention. Zeke’s hands slowly cup around her, before he pauses. He’s only done this once before, to bring her from the coffee table into the office. Earlier today he held her to transport her across the house, but her leg was cooperating enough at that point that she was able to hobble onto his palm herself. She had told him that’s how she would prefer to be picked up, and she stands by that. But with the state of her leg, she doesn’t have much choice in the matter anymore. Zeke hesitates now, seemingly uncomfortable with the prospect of simply scooping her up.

His eyes remain trained on her. He doesn’t say anything, but she knows that he’s waiting for her to confirm that this is alright. She doesn’t see what kind of difference that makes. If she doesn’t let the human pick her up, she’s stuck on this desk. So, she hugs the blanket tighter around herself and gives a quick nod. Zeke closes the distance between them, and gently lifts her into his palms. She has had more than her fair share of human hands lately. She’d like to tell herself that this will be the end of it, but she knows that once she wakes up, tomorrow will be a new day filled to the brim with more interactions with these humans. And the day after that, and the day after that. Until she can make the trip back home. To Zeke’s credit, he moves slowly. If she didn’t know any better, she might even say that it seems as though he’s just as uncomfortable as she is. He pulls back the corner of the fabric wall and hovers his hand next to her bed. She awkwardly scoots herself over, and once she’s on the plush surface of the bed, his hand retreats.

“Isabell,” He begins, then hesitates as if unsure about what he should say. He settles on a simple, “goodnight,” and with that, he lets the fabric go, and she’s plunged into a comfortable darkness. She can hear him leave the room, he clicks off the main light as he goes and what little light was filtering in through the fabric, disappears. She blinks, her eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness, and she takes in her surroundings.

It feels safe. She can almost pretend that she’s back in the walls. She can almost pretend that a human hand wasn’t just here, arranging all the furniture in this space for her. She can almost pretend that said human hand won’t be the first thing to greet her in the morning.

Almost, almost, almost.

Pretend, pretend, pretend.

The reality of the situation is that she’s a complete failure.

She’s been outsmarted, they put her in a DIY dollhouse, and she’s going to have to rely on these humans for, what did Zeke say, a month, before she can really go home. She’s helpless. What kind of borrower is this bad at what they do, it’s all she can think about as she drifts off to sleep once more.

#g/t #g/t stories #g/t writing #my writing #isabell and the lads #i don't like this chapter lmao #but i think it's a necessary evil #so here is is #hopefully i can write something uh actually good soon #hey not every chapter can be a banger some of them have to be cozy and simple right?#this is what i'm choosing to tell myself please let me live in my delusions #bleh

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