A stillness took hold of Isabella. Her brown eyes seemed so terrified.

“I'm scared. I'm scared shitless of being nobody. I don't mind being alone. But doing nothing? That's what kills me,” Isabella said. “Ever since I came here, I've been doing nothing. Nothing at all. What am I even doing with my life? I have no college degree, no relevant work experience. I'm a twenty-one year old woman who is supposed to be…I dunno, drinking and studying! O-or working at a high-paying job!”

Isabella exhaled, tears filling her eyes, and she looked away before they rolled down her cheeks. She quickly fixed herself and let out only a single sniffle.

“Sorry.” A second small sniffle.

“It's alright.” If he had a handkerchief, he would have given it to her. If she wanted to lean on him, he would have given that too.

But he knew she didn't want it.

“What am I supposed to do?” The moment she spoke, her voice cracked and tears escaped. Her eyes were in complete anguish and she once again wiped away the tears. “I just…before, I was okay with doing nothing. But now, with the rent, I feel like a leech. I feel like I should do something. Ophelia can't do it, so I have to pick up the slack with you. Plus, I'm pretty smart so there should be something for me to do. But…”

Isabella covered her eyes. She didn't say another word. The silent echo of her words lingered, however.

“There's nothing. I'm nothing.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Owen muttered. “I didn't know.”

“You work, you cook, you clean, you literally do everything in our household and you don't complain once. Why should I burden you with my stupid rants?” A shaky breath left her. “But…I guess that's what I did today.” She swallowed and looked up at the night sky. “It's cold,” she noted.

“It's about forty degrees, so yeah.”

A customer went into the market while the pair stood in the shadows to the side of the entrance. Owen didn’t know what to say, so he brushed his hand against hers. Slowly, they became entangled and his thumb caressed the back of her hand. He was slow. Loving. Patient. He felt the slight tremble in her and he tried to comfort and mend what little he could feel.

A deep warmth connected them. A pleasant warmth. 

“I'll do it.”

Owen blinked. “Hm?”

“Sorry, I just…maybe it's because we're outside, but ranting like that really cleared my mind.” Isabella inhaled and looked at him, a tiny smile gracing her lips. “It's better to do something than nothing at all, even if what I'm doing amounts to nothing right now. Someday though, maybe, just maybe, it'll matter.”

Something shifted in her. Like the leaves blowing in the mind, simply basking in the gentle coldness of the night told her something. Simply having an ear to listen to, simply having a hand to hold, it gave her confidence.

“The stress can get to you, for sure. Waking up, rolling over to check your phone, then going to your computer and doing nothing, even that has some meaning, I think. It means you're trying to live. There are some people out there who can't do that. The fact that you are is…admirable.” Isabella's shoulder started shaking. “Ha…haha! Who am I even talking to at this point?”

“Did you have a little too much to drink?” Owen teased.

“I think so.” She smiled and glanced at him, the small half of her expression suddenly glowing. “I'll try to drink less Mountain Pew from now on.”

“Less or none at all?”

“...let's do something manageable, like four cans a day.”

He would have laughed if not for the sincerity in her words. “It's a start.”

Owen raised their held hands and raised a pinkie. Isabella did the same, smiling and nodding. The agreement was done and sealed. 

“Alrighty! Let's go back home and give it one more swing,” Owen said, tossing his can of soda into the trash can. Isabella was right behind him, happily hopping on behind him on his bike.

***

Creating a new video from scratch wasn't easy. However, now that Isabella's resolve was at full blast and Owen was decently versed in editing, their progression skyrocketed.

The duo's late-night editing sessions blurred into the early morning, marked by caffeinated beverages and shared laughter.

Around noon, they crammed themselves inside Owen's closet. Laptop and mic closeby, they readied themselves for another session. Except—

“I want you to do the audio.”

“H-huh?” Isabella's panic came in the form of confused blinks. “Why?”

“You have a beautiful voice,” Owen said.

“That's…it?” She searched him for additional answers. Nothing, because it was damn near impossible to see inside the closet. “Because it's beautiful…?”

“Also, you have the type of voice that gears towards the Gen Z theorizing sphere. Fast and a bit squirmy yet informative.”

“That's…” Isabella frowned. “I think I should take that as a compliment. I think.”

Owen laughed and gestured at the mic. “Come on, you can do this. Trust me. This is your vision, isn't it? Your script? I'm not a professional so I can't bring your ideal to reality, but you can."

He poked her heart and smiled. Isabella swallowed and nodded.

“Okay.”

She agreed to it. Wonderful. It seemed he was really getting to her because he swore he saw her eyes flash with iron determination.

“One, two, three…” Owen mouthed the numbers and she immediately began speaking into the mic.

The moment Isabella began, however, she quickly cut herself off and asked, “Doesn't this sound weird?”

“Isabella, I'm the most biased source when it comes to you, so obviously I'm going to say you sound wonderful.”

“Right. B-but I mean, I thought I heard my voice cracking.”

“It didn't.”

“Did it?”

“I didn't hear it.”

“Hm.” Like a lightswitch, her nerves were replaced by resolve. “Okay, got it. I'll continue.”

Upon her second attempt, Isabella didn't make a single mistake. As he listened to the recording, Owen grinned ear to ear. Isabella was stronger than she thought she was. When she put her mind to something, she did it with complete perfection.