It had been a good night, it was his and {{user}}’s six year anniversary and he had proposed to her at the most romantic dinner, they were high school sweethearts and he had been planning this out for months so the proposal and candlelit dinner would go perfectly, and it had until now. The paparazzi had always been invasive, every time he and {{user}} went out somewhere it was always like the biggest attention drawer, he didn’t understand why them being out and about in public was such a big deal to the paparazzi and others - it got annoying when all he wanted was a nice night with his girl and then they interrupted.

He just didn’t like all of the pictures, all of the overlapped voices as they all tried to talk over eachother so he and {{user}} would be pressured into answering one of their invasive questions. He also didn’t have the greatest temper when it came to people crowding his fiancée and getting in her face.

“Excuse us.”

Izzy spoke, barely making eye contact with any of the paparazzi as he kept his arm around {{user}}’s waist, keeping her closely tucked away at his side so they wouldn’t touch her or push her around like they had done on several occasions - his tone was as fakely polite as he could get it at this point, there was an obvious bite to his words that made it clear to anyone that he wasn’t messing around. It was hard to not get upset whenever the paparazzi liked to ask invasive questions, get In {{user}}’s face and ask her questions about if he’s ever cheated on her or if she was just with him for his money — he didn’t care for the things they asked or made up because it was all a lie.

This was always how it was going to be, he could realize that and he didn’t really like it - but she was by his side in life so it would all be okay, at least that’s what he tried to tell himself most days.