Author's Note:
Before you begin, I think it's necessary to have a little note here just introducing the themes as there will be some upsetting content.
There will be no graphic depictions of child abuse or sexual abuse at any point in this fic. However, the general themes are upsetting and there will be mentions of those themes that may be fairly blunt and to the point. Because of this, I would advise you to avoid this fic if either of these themes may be a trigger to you. However, if you choose to read this, please note that everything in this fic is entirely fictitious and (thankfully) bears no intentional resemblance to the lives of anybody I know.
If you read this, I hope you're here for the long run. A massive shoutout to my beta, hellokhaleesi. Thank you for all of your assistance with this chapter and all the help I'll need in the coming chapters.
Depending on reception of this fic, there may be a sequel. I've planned it and I know what will happen, I'll ask whether people want to read it later on when plot becomes clearer.
All that's left to say is that I'd love to hear feedback and general comments/kudos are loved and appreciated. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy!
Isaac had been with Scott for almost three years when they had their first big argument. Isaac was shaking with anger, and Scott didn't even understand why. Isaac knew that he was overreacting, but also that he was reasonable in his fury. Scott had disappeared for three days. When he returned, he told Isaac that he had gone on a trip with Kira; his beautiful, funny ex-girlfriend Kira. Admittedly, Isaac and Kira were friends and he knew that she would never hurt him like that even if Scott would, but he couldn't help but worry.
When Isaac had clearly questioned Scott's fidelity, Scott raged too. Isaac didn't genuinely believe that Scott would cheat on him - he knew of Scott's incredible sense of loyalty far too well to think such a thing - but the fact that he knew nothing about his boyfriend's little trip was enough to spark his engrained paranoia.
It was lucky that Melissa finished work at the time she did, and entered the house at the time she did, and stood between the two young men at the time she did, or she probably would have ended up on fucking Jerry Springer under the caption "I watched my son and his fiancé kill each other with a cheese grater".
Well, probably not. Isaac and Scott did love each other. But, Isaac was working full time now, and Scott was into his last year of veterinarian training, and they were both stressed. So an argument that could have been sorted by reassurances and disbelieving head shakes ballooned into something huge, and Isaac stormed out of the house.
The kids' park on JFK Avenue covered an area of about a square mile, with a gigantic climbing frame that dominated the skyline. It stood as tall as most of the trees that lined the back boundary of the park. There was a red stain on the tarmac a little way away from the base of the frame that anybody under the age of fourteen in Beacon Hills believed was a blood stain from a kid who fell off and died. Isaac, having been nearly ten when the park was first improved, knew that a builder had spilled his drink in with the tarmac mix and it had set that colour.
Isaac sat on the bench he usually chose; under the shade of the tree, close enough to see the children playing on the climbing frame but not so close that he couldn't see the road a few hundred metres behind it.
He knew that Scott would look here if he wanted to look at all. They knew each other as well as two people could.
Isaac and Scott had met at school. They both played lacrosse, Scott was co-captain and Isaac had just managed to achieve first-string, so there was a fairly noticeable difference in their abilities. But Scott saw Isaac sitting alone outside the school's front entrance one day and, being the incredible person that he is, initiated a little passing game between them and gave him a few bits of advice on how to play better.
After that, they had become good friends. Isaac would spend half of his time with Erica and Boyd, and when he wasn't with them, he was with Scott. When Erica moved to Vancouver with her mom after her parents split, Boyd went with her. And Isaac became entirely involved with Scott's 'pack'.
Lydia was the person he spent most time with to begin with. He was scruffy, badly dressed and had zero confidence. She was the top of the social pyramid, had a keen fashion sense, and most importantly, she loved shopping. Isaac became almost a project for her, and within two weeks, they'd gone through half of the money that he had saved from his graveyard job. Lydia had even donated about $300 to the cause when Isaac used up the $200 that he had on him one day.
Isaac felt bad about taking her money but she insisted. Later on that day, as Lydia drove him home, she told him that after Jackson had moved to London, she needed distractions on a daily basis. She then told him that he was a distraction that she loved spending time with and she was glad that Scott had introduced them. Just before Isaac left the car, Lydia stopped him.
"You can talk to me about anything, anytime," she said, taking his cell phone from his hand, and entering her number. She kissed him on the cheek and reminded him of the clothing schedule she had picked out for him that covered a school week. He smiled and waved until she left.
In his entire life, Isaac had only ever had about three friends. There was Matt, who had stopped talking to him one day after coming to his house and Isaac had never known why. There were Erica and Boyd, who moved to Vancouver.
But now he had Scott, and he had Lydia. And he couldn't help but smile.
Isaac smiled like he had in the memory, his fingers playing absently with the fabric of the long sleeved top - another of Lydia's star choices, he realised not bothering to try and suppress his grin. It was good to think of the time when his life had changed for the better. His anger had already begun to dwindle.
He took out his cell phone and pulled up Scott's number, but he decided that he didn't want to look too desperate, and he wanted to see if Scott would call first. So, he put his phone back and looked up at the climbing frame.
It was therapeutic to him, watching the children play. He realized that this would sound completely perverted to most people, but Isaac knew he had good reason. He liked watching the children playing because he liked to remember that most kids are happy, that most kids don't have to go through what he did. He liked to watch smiling faces, pushing and pulling each other, laughing all the time, because it was a part of childhood that he never really got to have.
Watching the children made him remember the time when his mother was alive, when they would bake brownies and go to the cinema and get ice cream at the park from the kiosk. When Camden was just a teenager and resented anything to do with public displays of affection with anyone but would play soccer with Isaac in the park and let him fall asleep curled into his side when they lay down under the sun. When Isaac's father hadn't yet became a violent, abusive alcoholic.
But it was more than that. Isaac yearned for normality, and the kids symbolized that for him. They were the three bedroom house with a white picket fence, Sunday dinners while listening to the radio. As well as his past, Isaac thought of his future when he was at the park; the future that he could see himself having with Scott.
And so, when Isaac and Scott argued, Isaac felt he needed something that cheered him up, and the playground was the first place that came to mind. That's how he ended up sitting on the bench when a pair of known bullies made a little girl their target.
Normally, if Isaac had seen two ten year old boys picking on a young girl, he would have approached calmly told them to stop, and tell the boys' parents so that they could deal with it. However, since Isaac was still relatively angry, 'calmly' would not be the appropriate word to describe how he dealt with the situation.
"Listen here you little cunts," Isaac said on the approach, not raising his voice but clearly delivering the message that the two boys had better stop or they would end up a lot worse off than this little girl. "I'm gonna count to three, and if you're not running away by the time I finish, I will personally make sure you won't be running anywhere, anytime soon."
The taller of the two boys looked like he was going to square up to Isaac, until the smaller one grabbed his arm and they both ran off. Isaac turned to the little girl.
"Hiya sweetie, my name's Isaac," he said, willing his tone to hide how angry he felt. "Are you hurt?"
The girl shook her head. She was sitting on the ground having been pushed over but Isaac could see her knees and elbows were free of scratches.
"Do you know who those boys are?" Isaac asked. "If you do, tell me and I'll tell their parents so they don't bother you again."
The girl shook her head again. It didn't matter that much because Isaac knew that one of them lived on the same street as he and Scott, so he could drop by the house on his way home.
"Is your mummy or daddy here?" Isaac asked, wondering if the girl was going to communicate solely by twitches.
The girl nodded, seemingly confirming his wonderings, but then she spoke.
"I don't have a mummy but my daddy is at the shop."
Isaac frowned. Although the shop was only a minute's walk away from the park, her father definitely didn't qualify as being 'here'. He couldn't help but think that the girl's dad was irresponsible to the point of neglectful leaving his young daughter alone in the park, even for a second.
"Do you have anybody here that you know?" Isaac asked. "Like, a babysitter or a brother or sister?"
"No," she said. "I don't have a babysitter or a brother or a sister. It's just me and daddy, but he's at the shop."
Isaac frowned again. How could someone leave their child unattended? Even only to nip to the shop?
"Do you want to stay here with me until your daddy gets back and then we can tell him what happened?" he asked.
"Well, daddy says I shouldn't talk to strangers when nobody's around and you're a stranger," she said, awkwardly staring at her feet, twisting her hands.
Well, at least he's taught her the fucking basics, Isaac thought.
"Okay, that's fair enough," he said. "How about you go and play on the climbing frame again, and then come and tell me when you see your daddy and we'll go and tell him what's happened. Deal?"
The girl nodded and ran off, her curly golden hair bouncing on her shoulders.
Isaac couldn't shake the intense dislike for the girl's father that was beginning to manifest itself in him. This wasn't healthy for him, Isaac knew; fathers who don't seem to care enough about their kids was a topic far too close to home for him.
As the little girl resumed her playing, Isaac resumed his reminiscing.
Initially, Isaac didn't think that he and Stiles would ever get on. Stiles was a hyperactive, over the top, centre of attention sort of guy, whereas he was somewhat sullen, calm and liked to blend into the background.
They'd spoken before; how could they not? They were both on the lacrosse team and were both good friends with Scott and Lydia. But, they'd never really clicked.
But one day, Isaac had been reading the local paper and had seen a small congratulations message to Joseph Lahey and Mary Faulkner on their marriage. By this time, Isaac had left his father's house and had been living with Scott for almost a year.
After lacrosse practise, he'd stayed in the changing rooms and cried, and it was Stiles who'd found him.
"What's wrong?" Stiles had asked.
"My dad got remarried," was Isaac's reply.
Stiles knew about Isaac's history of abuse, and he looked a little confused.
"Isn't that a good thing?" he asked. "Like, he's moving on so he's not focusing on you anymore. Doesn't this mean you're free of him?"
Isaac nodded. It was his exact thoughts that Stiles had relayed but that wasn't what was bothering him.
"It's my mom," he told Stiles. "my brother's dead, her parents are dead, she had no brothers or sisters or any close family. I just feel like now that dad has remarried, I'm the only person who remembers her, or even cares about her.
Stiles had looked very awkward at the topic of conversation but he sat down next to Isaac and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Isaac didn't even flinch away from the contact.
"I see what you mean," Stiles said, his voice uncharacteristically slow and steady. "It's hard remembering someone who's gone when there's nobody to share the memories with. Neither of my parents have siblings so when my mom died, it was just me and dad who seemed to care."
Isaac raised his tearstained eyes to meet Stiles' surprisingly also wet ones. Stiles smiled a little.
"You know, when my mom died, dad and me planted a flower each for her in the garden. When my grandpa died, we did it again for him. When Scott's uncle died, he and Melissa both came over and planted a flower. We've got enough to fill a florist now, but I'm sure there's room for one more, if you think it might help."
Isaac's heart swelled because Stiles was showing him kindness and – more importantly – understanding.
So they had walked down to the garden store on the town's main street and bought two forget-me-not seeds. Stiles didn't question the extra one; he knew all about Camden.
Isaac planted them next to Stiles's flower for Claudia. Surprisingly, he felt a lot better.
"The idea is that if different people have different flowers, everybody learns who the flowers represent," Stiles said. "then, even if we had to add a flower for somebody who planted one before, nobody would be forgotten because we can all remember together."
"Thank you." Isaac said. It's all he could say. It's all that he needed to say. Stiles put an arm around him and they walked inside to where the Sheriff looked on smiling sadly.
Isaac had eaten dinner with them that night. It felt good to know that other people would help him remember his mother and brother. It also felt good to know he had another friend.
"Isaac!"
The little girl's shout broke him free of his reverie. He looked up to see her standing in front of him, smiling.
"My daddy's back. Do you still want to speak to him?"
Isaac nodded and stood up. He couldn't see anybody new, but judging by the route the girl was taking, her father was on the opposite side of the climbing frame and therefore out of view.
He didn't really know what he would say. He wanted to tell the man that his daughter had been faced with bullies and had been brave and stood up to them, but he also wanted to tell the guy to get his fucking act together so a random stranger wouldn't have to step in on his behalf.
When Isaac saw the man that the girl was pointing to, he froze. The man did likewise.
Because standing there with a cigarette between his lips, looking straight back at him was Joseph Lahey.
And suddenly, Isaac didn't want to talk to the girl's father. Because the girl's father was his father. And he did not want to talk to his father. He wanted to run. But he couldn't. His feet felt like they were glued to the ground, as his father's had regained their ability to move. The man that Isaac most hated in the world moved towards him.
"What's your name?" Isaac said to the girl, looking down at her and hoping beyond hope that his eyes didn't betray the intense wave of fear and nausea that had flooded his body at the sight of Joseph. Luckily, the girl seemed none the wiser.
"Hope."