It was rooted and overgrown like a garden that had once meant something to someone, but it had become too much, a burden, and the flowers writhed. Weeds sprouted up and consumed, climbing up the fence and walls. They didn't have starting or stopping points. They had always been there, waiting.

Isaac stood in the doorway. He was soaking wet. Scott could see his abdominal muscles tense, his gooseflesh, and his eyes. They were full of quiet rage. He was trying on the mask of anger, but it was an ill fit. He was confused and scared and hurt and he couldn't stop being those things no matter how hard he tried. He was supposed to be stronger now. Bruises faded and cuts closed without a trace, but he had gotten enough glass stuck in him to know that wounds kept bleeding long after they had healed.

"Can I," He didn't want to ask for help. He was tired of asking for help, but he didn't have a choice. His fingernails dug into the palms of his hands. "Stay here?"

He was shivering, but he wasn't cold. The ghost of the boy he used to be still lived inside of him. "Only for the night…I don't have anywhere else to go."

"Derek?"

He smelled blood and the rain on him. He heard his heart pounding and his breath hitch.

"Stay as long as you need."

Isaac stripped of his shirt and undid the button on his jeans.

"What are you doing?"

"Changing...I was going to shower, if you don't mind."

(No) softly

"It's not like you haven't seen me naked before."

He hadn't seen him like this. Vulnerable and intimate, he had cruelty in his openness. He hadn't looked at him like this. There was a hunger in his eyes. They burned with a dark intensity that made him lower his gaze. He hadn't looked at anyone like this. Not even Allison.

Isaac smiled. He wondered if this is what he smelled like following Derek around like a lost puppy. Sick with need and putrefying with sweetness. Scott listened to his footsteps receding away and the silence that followed.

Scott could still hear him. He felt like he was listening to his thoughts, but he couldn't turn it off. The shower head turned on with a rusty squeak, water rushed out, the unzip of jeans, the rustle of getting out of them, the door closing. The scorching hot water ran over his shoulders and back. It used to burn him. He used to hide in there. Disappear in the streams of water. Every drop washed him clean, but he couldn't get clean anymore.

The lights had been turned off, but that didn't mean anything anymore. It was quiet, but he knew Scott wasn't sleeping. Not even the dead dreamt that softly. Isaac rubbed at his wet hair with a towel. He draped it over the back of a chair and took the pillow and blanket that had been lain out for him and made his bed on the floor. There was moonlight flickering in and dancing across the floor. It comforted him as much as it frightened him.

"There's a couch, you know." Scott said shifting under the covers.

"I'm fine. I like it here." But really who liked the floor. He didn't want to be alone. He had slept in colder places than this, on harder surfaces away from any light or warmth. "Goodnight. And thank you."

"Don't mention it."

He never got that physically close to people. Close enough to listen to their heartbeat. It was the sound he fell asleep to.

"Don't play dumb." Derek backed him against the wall. The house sighed. There were webs in the corners and rot in the wood. He had venom in his voice. "You're a lot of things, but not that."

Isaac inhaled deeply. His eyes were transfixed on his carotid artery. It was thrashing. And exhale. He leaned in closer, breathing him in. His gaze flickered up to his lips and his hands pulled up his shirt. His fingers lingered on his hipbone. He met his eyes. They had a familiarity to them. The pale greens had a kindness to their savagery.

"Tell me what you want."

He was burning up like parchment. The farthest, darkest crooks of his soul were on fire.

"Kiss me."

Derek grinned. He wrapped a hand around his neck and pressed hard on his windpipe. His nails scraped his skin and he pushed himself against Isaac so no space remained between them. He was marking him. Derek loosened his grip and brushed his lips against the boy's. He opened his mouth with his tongue.

There was a growing ache. A heat and pulse that made Isaac deepen the kiss, biting Derek's lip and rubbing against him. Derek chuckled.

Isaac ran his fingers through his thick dark hair and pushed him down onto his knees.

The sky was pale yellow. A storm was in bloom. He loved the smell before it rained.

"You talk in your sleep." Scott told him over breakfast the next morning.

"What do I say?" His voice was low. Isaac had woken up screaming from nightmares, but they weren't incoherent or fading. They were memories that would never leave him. He fought with the sheets, putting holes in them, but the McCall's bedding was fine. Sweet dreams never stayed with him.

Scott swallowed heavily. "Maybe you should see someone."

Isaac raised an eyebrow. "Like who?"

"Ms. Morrell,"

"She's a little old for me, don't you think?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Why are you being like this?" He didn't say hostile, but that's what he meant. "I'm only concerned about you."

"Concerned? Is that all?" His laugh was harsh. He looked down at his bare feet. He was tired of running, but it was in his bones. "I shouldn't have come here."

'Where am I supposed to go?' It was what stopped him from leaving. He liked to think it was his fault. That he had done something wrong. It was easier that way. 'Don't leave me.' It was a plea. He had come to expect abandonment. Tolerate it. Even accept it, but not from Derek. Something was wrong.

"Isaac," Scott breathed, grabbing his wrist.

With his face half in shadow and his eyes sharp with hurt and fear he looked like a feral animal. "I will break your arm, Scott."

Scott looked at him one last time before letting go of him.