She had smelt like roses.
He hated Denny. Hated that he was good enough for Izzie when he himself so obviously wasn't. Hated that he could make her laugh, /I used to do that/, and smile.
He felt disgusted when he pictured her kissing him. Holding him. He wanted to take her away and yell at her and scrub her clean with scalding water to get the image out of his head.
Alex was a complex person, still teetering between boy and man. Life's lessons hadn't quite taught him to grow up yet, but dammit, /dammit/.
She never smelt like roses for him. Lilac or lavender, some purple flowery scent for their few dates. Or nothing, just a whiff of clean soap and coffee grounds.
Alex was never good enough for her. He was selfish. He thought once he had her, it was over. He had won. Dr. Model with her distracting tattoo and awesome rack was his. His girl. His woman.
He was selfish. He blindly took advantage of her tolerance and exceeded what it could take.
He hated himself, he hated Denny, and he hated her. He hated her for being so inside his fucking head that all he could think about was how she never smelt like roses for him.
She had smelt like roses the night Denny Duquette died.
He wanted to scrub her clean, scrub off the roses and the infatuation. Wanted to scrub her until she was Izzie again.
He held her while she cried over another man.
AN: Hahaha. sigh This was my first fic in a looooong time after a year and a half long hiatus. They finally stuck a Grey's Anatomy option up, so I can post it! Alex is just... He begs to be written. I want to get inside his head and know how that evil little mind works. Oh well. Comments are love, constructive criticism is appreciated, and if you find a typo for the love of god let me know.