Isaac slides down the locker, thumps his head against the hollow metal in shock. He stares between his arched legs blankly, arms loosely hooked around them. This was the last thing that he wanted.
The stronger wolf grimaced, unsure of how to respond. They couldn't work on their final Heart of Darkness paper during study hall - their free periods were at different times. As much as he was reluctant, Ethan had to work something out with the beta. It wasn't going well.
"You locked me in a closet," he states automatically, wide cerulean eyes open. Ethan made to speak, but Isaac's words were like a rolling stone gathering momentum down endless tracts of the mountain of his life.
"With the girl that stabbed me…" he cranes his head sideways, turning his gaze toward the wolf, "twenty times," Ethan's eyes flutter in uncertainty of how to approach the situation.
"You slashed me open, chased me while I was half dead on a motorcycle, killed the girl that helped me escape - I never got to thank her by the way - practically forced my alpha to disown me since there's no way in hell he'd kill his kin and…."
"Look -"
"You helped kill Boyd," Isaac looks up, eyes wide in growing anger, "and -"
"Hey Ethan, I was wondering if we were still on for Friday? With midterms coming up, I wasn't sure if you'd be too busy," Danny greets Ethan with a warm smile, completely oblivious to the lanky teen sitting against the lockers. Ethan, happy for the deflection, absorbs himself into Danny's presence.
"Yeah, of course. I have to work out a good time to discuss the presentation for the paper on Heart of Darkness with my… partner," Ethan glances at Isaac with furrowed eyebrows, and Danny arches his in disbelief, "but. Friday night. You and me and your change of clothes." Ethan wraps his powerful arms around Danny, pressing their noses together.
"You know how much I love to cuddle," Danny smiles, extracting himself from Ethan's embrace, "I got to get to class. I'll see you after school.
Ethan watches as Danny leaves, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. It was wavering. The metallic clang of Isaac's locker shutting interrupts him from his thoughts, bringing him back to the situation at hand. It was strange though. For one in such a position, he seemed oddly calm. Ethan knew better than to trust docile serenity. It often foretold of impending disaster.
"Isaac."
He turns around halfly, reverting his attention back to exchanging useless books to more pertinent texts.
"We have to work together on this."
Isaac grins, and it confuses Ethan, "Somehow, I always end up working with my enemies. Sorry to ruin your date though. I have that lab proposal to do with Stiles on Thursday.'
"What do you have to do tomorrow?"
"None of your goddamn business."
Ethan bows his head, licking his lips, "If it's worth anything," he trails, heading towards the direction of his next class, "I don't want to be enemies," he nods slightly, then walks off.
Isaac sighs, then whispers, "Friday. Right after school. Your place."
That night, Isaac heard everything in slow motion. The voices echoing the hollow hallways, the cascade of heartbeats like a cacophonous melody. It all felt too real, and it all felt like fantasy. Eventually, the syncopation became raindrops, a heavy downpour, then… He moved too slowly, saw things too clearly, heard everything, everything. Every detail of their porcelain faces, every fragment of light that caught liquid fear, he remembered it all. He contributed to the cacophony with his own voice, and with his own heart, his own desperation made full.
No one should be forced to make these kinds of decisions. He wept, like most everyone else. Blood stained hands may be washed clean, but the conscious won't be remedied. No amount of ablution would wash this away.
"Earth to Isaac, hello?" Stiles snaps his fingers in attempt to garner some reaction from the lonesome wolf.
"I'm very much aware, would you please stop?" Isaac snaps. Lately, he'd been strangely hypersensitive to minute details, even considering his werewolf abilities. Hearing in particular, as if there lie some ulterior music, a rhythm of sorts, that whispered quietly, just playing without a heed to who's listening. It's been happening since that night. Every sound seemed to have a significant new meaning, a different aspect he hadn't noticed before. The scratch of graphite against the smooth fibers of Stiles' messy notes, the crinkling of his own under the pen. Stiles' soft comforter gently shifting against itself, even the caress of his shirt against his skin. He perceived it all differently, yet exactly the same - familiar, yet nuanced.
Stiles' snapping had whole new levels of obnoxiousness, he didn't even understand.
"Lab experiment. Due tomorrow. And we've got nothing to show for it," Stilinski waves his hands expressively, stressing the fact they were going to fail the assignment.
"Lab proposal. We aren't actually doing anything until next week. We just have to come up with an experimental design for approval."
They carry on, making snide remarks at each other. It wasn't necessarily out of animosity for each other, but rather a natural dynamic born out of sassy personalities. Stiles has difficulty dealing with Isaac's dense intelligence, not to mention the frequent spacing out, while the other just couldn't stand all the noise he was making.
"You know what, how about we burn mountain ashe and see how well 'humans' - I mean you, by the way, - can survive in a sauna fully decorated with mistletoe and monkshood, how about that?" Stiles paces, throwing up pages of discarded ideas in exasperation.
Isaac is infuriatingly calm, leaning on the white wooden door. He glides toward Stiles, something different in his demeanor that puts Stiles on edge. There's a glint in his eyes, and his lips upturned into a coy smile. They're closer than they've ever been. Stiles' heart jumps ever slightly, but Isaac caught it.
"You don't realize just how easy it would be…" he purrs sweetly, a long, thin claw caressing the tender underside of Stiles' jaw, skin nearly breaking under the featherweight pressure. Gently, Isaac tilts his head so their eyes meet, and Stiles is forced to comply, "to end the life on someone so insignificant." Isaac is gaping solemnly, threateningly, his eyes lidded in challenge.
"Actually, I do."
Isaac remembers struggling to breathe, asphyxiated on the floor. Honestly, he wasn't surprised in the slightest. He smelled the fragrant poison the moment he stepped on their lawn, the scent percolating his entire being as he stepped inside. Eventually he picked himself off the floor, none too gracefully, then left quietly. He deserved it, he supposes.
Either way, it gave him an idea of sorts. Of how to go about his late night excursions. He'd have to consult with Allison perhaps.
The next morning, Stiles is being particularly spazzy, so much so that Isaac can literally hear him in the hallway before he even arrives at school. Maybe he's paying too much attention to the most normal person in their loosely bound group, maybe his hyper-awareness got weirded out with all the wolfbane powder tossed into his face. He doesn't really care. Stiles ran into the wrong guy, mouthed off a little too much, and now he was trying really hard to talk his way out of a pounding. But his only defense wasn't helping him at all, only making the angry teen angrier. Unsurprisingly, the hallway is empty, as Stiles is late. Isaac casually strolls along the hallway, facial expression level. The bully is too engrossed in yelling at Stiles, and Isaac's footfalls are only audible to himself. Without breaking stride, Isaac grabs the bully by the shirt and flings him mercilessly into the lockers lining the adjacent wall, colliding with a metallic bang.
Like last week's trash.
Stiles just stares open mouthedly as Isaac continues on. Thinking for a moment, Isaac, turns back.
"Yet you can defend yourself against the likes of me?"
Isaac scoffs, then heads to class.