Danny has known Isaac since he was six years old.
They'd played together once, on the playground, back when Isaac had been a happy little child without a care in the world.
But then Danny had met Jackson, and Jackson had a way even at age six about making the world revolve around him, and Danny and Isaac hadn't ever played together again.
Until today.
Now they're seventeen, and the project of the day is painting the new Hale house, a project Danny's been roped into by Jackson and Lydia for his artistic ability and also for the fact that he's a warm body and it's a big house and they're running out of daylight.
He and Isaac paint the hallway upstairs in a light shade of green, and Danny adds swirling white leaves to the edges of the molding.
"That's really beautiful," Isaac says, and Danny smiles at him. "You're really good at that."
"I like to doodle," Danny replied, swirling another leaf near Isaac's hand, "But I'm not an artist."
"You're the best one here," Isaac says, and then he grins slightly, "Which I guess isn't saying a lot."
Danny laughs, and they go back to painting and finish the hallway after a half an hour.
"Can I ask you a favor?" Isaac says, and Danny looks over at him, green paint smudged across his cheek and his white shirt dirty and smeared.
"Sure," Danny says, and maybe he agrees without knowing what it is because he remembers what Isaac looked like as a little boy, all curly hair and toothy smile, covered in red ink at the drawing table in their kindergarten classroom.
"Come on," Isaac says, and he leads Danny down the hallway to a room, where he turns the light on and steps inside. "This is my room," Isaac says, gesturing, and then he lets out a puff of air and repeats, "My room," like he can't believe it. "It's the first thing in a long time that's really been mine," he admits, "And I want it to feel like that."
Danny observes the empty room, primer on the walls and hardwood floor nearly finished.
"I don't know what to do to make it mine," Isaac admits, "And I'm a terrible painter."
Danny looks over at him, realizes what Isaac is asking. "What's your favorite color?" He asks, already eager to get started.
"Orange," Isaac says, and laughs at Danny's expression, "I like sunsets, and sunrises. Not the fruit," he clarifies, and Danny nods.
"Do you trust me?" Danny asks, and Isaac lifts his eyebrows.
He's quiet a long moment before he says, "I don't really know you enough to trust you."
"No," Danny says, realizing how stupid that must have sounded, "But do you remember the little boy who brushed sand out of your hair and kept Jackson from picking on you?"
Isaac's lip twitches, and he nods.
"Do you think you could trust him?" Danny wonders, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"Maybe," Isaac admits, like he's thinking about this memory for the first time in a long time, "I think I could."
"Then go do something else for a couple of hours," Danny instructs.
Isaac shifts for a moment, looks around his room, and then he nods, and leaves.
It's dark by the time Danny is finished. Lydia has knocked on the door twice, but he's told her to wait outside, because he wants Isaac to see it first. When he finally emerges, he finds the others downstairs, sipping sodas and having pizza. He gestures to Isaac, who looks him up and down before standing and following him back up the stairs.
He must look silly, and he's gotten more paint on himself than he planned on, but he doesn't care. He leads Isaac into his new room with his hands over his eyes, and he drops them once Isaac is in the center of the room, turned towards the full wall.
Isaac stands there in front of Danny, completely still. Danny's no werewolf, and he doesn't have supernatural hearing, but he could swear that Isaac has stopped breathing.
On the wall is a giant, orange, yellow, red, purple, and pink sunrise. The colors spill out from the sun peaking out of the floor and up across the wall and over the ceiling, meshing into giant rainbow clouds and coming down into a gentle light blue on the other side of the room.
Danny takes a step towards Isaac, is about to lay a hand on his shoulder, when Isaac turns and wraps both of his arms tightly around Danny's shoulders, his chin pressed against Danny's collarbone.
Danny hugs him back, and Isaac says gently into Danny's ear, "Thank you."
"It's okay?" Danny wonders. Isaac lets him go and pulls away, gives him that look like he's crazy again.
"It's amazing," Isaac says, "I can't believe you did this for me."
"Well," Danny says, shrugging, "Maybe the little me on the playground did it for the little you who used to smile more."
Isaac does smile at him, big and genuine. "Danny?"
"Hmm?" Danny hums, glancing around at the artwork again.
"I trust you," Isaac says, and he reaches over and gives Danny's hand a squeeze.
Danny squeezes his hand back.
It's almost like coming full circle, except this time, Danny intends to keep Isaac smiling as long as he can.