Notes: Thank you to all of the kudos, opinions and kind words about my first chapter. Here is chapter 2! I really appreciate all the feedback and bookmarks, I was really nervous about posting this fic, so thanks for making me feel welcome in the scisaac fic community :3 enjoy!
Chapter 2: Drowning
They spend the night at some seedy motel with a blinking vacancy sign, fake palm trees around the entrance to the parking lot and plastic flamingos lining the grass as decoratively as possible along the first row of rooms facing away from the front desk office. It's only a few miles away from the diner and after eating everyone is tired from full bellies, traveling all day and with the looming prospect of another day of driving ahead of them. Isaac has managed to drift on and off on the drive to the motel, his head resting against Scott's shoulder as Stiles argues with Lydia that there is only one great batman and that had been Michael Keaton. Scott discretely presses a kiss to the side of Isaac's head when he's sure no one is looking in the dark atmosphere of the car…and then proceeds to do it again after he hears the other's heartbeat skip to inform him that he's not asleep.
Isaac lifts his head when Stiles parks the car, smiling softly at Scott before running his fingers through his curls. He yawns, glancing around at the motel which is painted a bright pink that would probably hurt his eyes with direct sunlight on it.
"Well, look, at least they have a pool…so you can catch STDS via water." Stiles admits dryly, turning the engine off.
Lydia rolls her eyes. "You didn't want to travel the extra miles to reach the Motel 6." She glances outside the window and looks up at the blinking sign of the motel: LOST PARADISE and then mutters about how a place that looks like this should remain lost.
"It's just for one night." Allison insists, opening the jeep to crawl out and grabbing her bag on the ground to hoist over her shoulder. "We should talk about sleeping arrangements."
Before he can even utter the suggestion of guys in one room and girls in another (and if he should have to bunk up with Scott then so be it) Lydia and Allison share this look when the redhead gets out of the jeep that he can only describe as a undisclosed girl conversation that as a guy he will never understand.
"I'll stay with Stiles." Lydia informs the small group when they're all standing at the trunk of the jeep. And there it is, one simple look translated into English.
Stiles opens and closes his mouth once and then twice, like he can't honestly believe he didn't have to manhandle the situation to convince Lydia to sleep in the same room with him.
"Oh," Allison glances at Scott like she had no idea this strange occurrence of events was going to occur. Isaac can feel his nails digging into the palms of his hands as he stands to the side, shifting on his feet. "Well, I suppose Scott and I can stay together in a room. Wouldn't be the first time."
Scott laughs, rather awkwardly and glances at Isaac, then to Stiles who is rubbing the back of his neck like he can see the thought bubbles above everyone's heads. "I don't…I don't think that's—"
"That's perfect." Lydia interrupts; smiling like her favorite store is giving her a discount on half the merchandise. "You two can catch up…talk."
"Catch up? What do they have to catch up on? They both seem pretty up to date on the fact that there's an alpha pack trying to maim and murd—" Stiles' sentence is cut off with a sharp yelp when Lydia steps on his foot.
Scott shifts on his feet. "But…Isaac would have to—"
"Room by himself," He guesses he shouldn't be surprised Lydia seems to have everything all figured out. "He's not five years old, I'm sure he wouldn't mind, would you Isaac?"
Isaac's stomach clenches painfully, an uncomfortable pulling sensation starting at his rib cage, like someone is reaching inside his chest and yanking down on the bone. He clears his throat and shrugs his one shoulder, tries to stop picking up on Stilinski's sympathy that is rolling towards his nose even though he can't see the expression plainly on his face. His hands are tied, there's nothing he can really say to object to the notion of staying alone—or the fact that he doesn't want Scott to sleep in the same room, let alone the same bed, as his ex. He knows there's unresolved issues there, feelings left unsaid, thoughts unexpressed and open wounds to heal—and honestly, what is he supposed to say? He and Scott hold hands sometimes, sometimes they kiss, other times they do everything that isn't kissing, sometimes they feel a lot like something even though they're more like nothing. Scott and Allison though? That is something.
He licks his lips and nods his head towards the trunk of the jeep and Stiles opens it easily; he tries to remain indifferent, like it doesn't matter, like he doesn't have eyes on him trying to figure out what he's going to say before he says it. He can feel Scott's especially, right against the side of his head, damn near boring holes into his brain.
"No of course not," He smiles softly at Allison before reaching inside the trunk of the jeep to grab his bag. "Why would I mind?"
He avoids Scott's gaze as the group starts towards the front desk office to book their rooms for the night.
0o0o00o0o
He's slept in worse places before.
He used to camp outside in his yard with his brother when they were younger almost every Sunday during the summer and the ground, yet filled with grass, was always hard and lumpy against his back. He fell asleep on his kitchen floor once waiting for the evitable moment when Santa would tiptoe through his living room to deliver presents on Christmas Eve. He's fallen asleep in many positions in the back of a car, he's slept on the cold metal of the subway train that was once Derek's hideout, he's slept on the floor at the McCall household until Mrs. McCall insisted that that was no way to sleep (and that he'd ruin his back) and he's fallen asleep confined in a freezer, his knees nearly tucked up to his chin when his father would forget to unlock and unhinge the lid.
Honestly, a motel with dirty sheets (he was trying not to pick up on all the scents he could detect just from the fabric alone), a creaky mattress and paper thin walls are not the worst things he's had to deal with in terms of sleep.
But sleep doesn't come easily and for Isaac that's sort of new. Even with the impending onslaught of nightmares that usually press into him like a building falling down on his chest, suffocating him, he usually has no trouble falling asleep. Sleeping soundly and getting back to sleep after a nightmare is one thing but the initial drifting off is seamless.
He lies in bed for what feels like hours, car horns blaring in the distance, rain finally falling and pounding against the pavement, lights shining from street lamps against the cream colored ceilings, his hearing strained and picking up breathing, whispers and moans, pulses stuttering and the sound of the walls settling. Isaac tries to convince himself that he's not searching for anything specific, that he's just trying to fall asleep and sometimes the sounds soothe him in a way he can't explain, the noise hugging his body and frayed nerves but he finds that he's looking for one voice in particular. One voice that's down the hall and six doors away. Scott's voice.
But he can't find it; it's lost in the mixture of sounds. Either that or Scott isn't talking. He's not sure which is worse.
He selfishly wants to know what he and Allison needed to talk about, if they actually got as far as to tell one another things they'd been keeping close to the chest, or whether they danced around it and said nothing instead. He wants to know if whatever it is that he and Scott are doing is still, well, something. He wants to know if Allison changed his mind; Isaac wants to know if he's lost something good.
Something he doesn't really deserve in the first place.
He eventually does fall asleep, his eardrums vibrating with the drip drip drip of the rain sliding off the gutter into the pavement outside his window and the heartbeats of the surrounding rooms.
0o0o0o0
His nightmares always start out differently but end relatively the same way.
He's cold. His body is shaking from pain, exposed nerves, and a bitter bite to the air around him that reminds Isaac of getting stuck in a snow drift absolutely naked. He's confined, his joints crack and moan as he tries to stretch but finds that he can't, he can't press against the four walls. He's heartbreakingly human, his body hurts, he's not healing, his blood is dripping into ice. The bones of his spine feel like they're stabbing him through muscle and through his ribcage from the awkward angle of his lanky body against the wall and floor of the freezer. He scratches but he doesn't know why he bothers and then the worst settles in, his stomach drops and panic seizes his sternum, ice as real as the frost surrounding him sitting in his veins, blood runs cold. What if he doesn't get out this time? What if this is really it?
He can't breathe.
Isaac pounds on the lid of the freezer and screams; he knows it's useless, knows no one can hear him, knows no one will listen. No one ever listens. Not his aunt who lives in San Francisco, who's gotten many calls from Isaac just asking her to help, not his teachers who see bruises all over his face or watch him limp out of their class, not his mother watching from heaven and certainly not God.
No, he must have given up on Isaac a long time ago. And part of him doesn't blame the abandonment.
Just when the final breath seems to leave his lips, when he doesn't think he can take one more lungful in, that's when he wakes up. He jolts up in bed, chest aching with the realization that he can breathe, that there's more than enough oxygen to keep him company. He's soaked to the bone with sweat, the collar of his shirt sticking uncomfortably to the back of his neck as he runs his hands over his face and through his damp curls. Isaac feels like he shouldn't be surprised when he hears a gentle rapping on the door, can recognize the slow and steady heartbeat a mile away but he's still unsteady from his nightmare, he's shaking and his legs feel like jello as he gets up to answer it. He takes a deep breath before clearing his throat, opening the door to see Scott standing there.
He's not sure how long they've been apart, he has no idea how much sleep he's actually gotten between getting to his room and when his head hit the pillow. He wants to know what time it is but he figures it must be late because Scott looks sleepy, like he's just woken up from a deep REM cycle. His eyebrows furrow, he can't figure out what the shorter is doing here, but he guesses he can't exactly complain when Scott looks so good. He hates how simple Scott is, how it doesn't take much for Isaac to be completely thrown off balance by him. He's dressed in sweatpants and a maroon colored t-shirt that has wrinkles from being slept in, his eyes are warm like honey but tired and his hair is a mess from his pillow.
Isaac's stomach flutters and the wolf inside him snarls at such a weak sensation before he clears his throat and bites his lower lip. "What are you doing here?"
"Trouble in Paradise?" Scott asks, a soft smile pulling at the ends of his mouth like an invisible string. The joke isn't lost on Isaac, seeing as how they're stuck in this glorified shit hole ironically called Lost Paradise but he can't find the energy in him to smile.
Isaac shifts in his spot and rubs the back of his neck, looking past Scott to see it's stopped raining.
"I could hear your heartbeat all the way down the hall," Scott then says, admitting the real reason why he's standing outside of Isaac's door. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." Isaac answers, all too quickly. Scott probably wouldn't have believed him anyways but now the sharpness in his voice gives him away easily.
Scott knows, it's clear in those brown eyes. It's not like this is the first nightmare Isaac has had around the other wolf but it's still something embarrassing all the same, still something he feels like he has to keep to himself. Keep private.
"It's okay," Scott says softly, stepping forward to…he thinks touch him but his fingers flex and remain at his side. "Everyone has nightmares; you know it's nothing to be ashamed of."
He almost hates the sincerity in his voice, how sweet he is, how good he is with him. Isaac bites his tongue hard on saying something he might regret and says instead, "How's Allison?" It comes out a lot harsher than he intended but it's better than snapping at him to mind his business and not to worry about him in terms of his nightmares.
Scott cares far too much, it's a quality that Isaac admires and finds suffocating all at the same time. It's comforting to know that when he feels like he might have no one who actually gives a shit about him that Scott is there, and that he cares. That he does it far too easily and far too often. But at the same time Isaac wants to shake him because while it might be inherent for him to care about everyone it's also unrealistic. He sets himself up for disappointment, for hurt. One of the best and worst things about Scott is that he's got a hero complex, because no matter how much he may want to, he can't save everyone.
Scott clears his throat and glances down the hall, like Allison may pop up out of nowhere when she realizes he's left the room in the middle of the night and go looking for him.
"Is that what you're upset about?" He asks. He's not angry but he's something that Isaac can't quite put his finger on. It's either frustrated or confused; both smell a lot alike. "Because it wasn't my idea to room with her."
"I didn't hear much protest." And that's not fair, he knows that, but his body is pumping with adrenaline from his nightmare and the wolf inside him feels like fighting, claws dragging down the bones of his ribcage.
"That's not fair." Scott mumbles, looking at his shoes. It's like he can read Isaac's mind sometimes and more often than not he wonders if that's a werewolf thing or if it's just a Scott McCall thing; always empathetic to the people around him.
Isaac sighs and leans against the doorframe before carding his fingers through his hair. "What did…you and her talk about?"
It's not worth it, he thinks, as he hears the steady and strong pulsing of Scott's heart. They've both been under too much stress lately as it is and he doesn't want to be the one to quicken the beats, at least not in that way, not from a fight. He forces his wolf back down, swallows the building rage, the trigger of animosity and relaxes. He thinks about Scott, he listens to his heartbeat and the beast settles behind his sternum.
Scott looks like he's confused by the subject change but takes the opportunity easily with a hesitant smile. "Uhm, well, it was nothing specific. She just said that she misses me and…" He bites his lip and looks up at Isaac, shrugging his one shoulder. "That she knows we thought breaking up would be best and that she still believes that but…"
"She misses you." Isaac nods, finishing the repeated thought with a small humming noise.
He relates to Allison sometimes more often than not; even though that's something he'll never admit. He knows Scott, or at least he likes to think he does, and the fact that he's attractive only adds to how kind he can be, how selfless and how loving. So yeah, he understands Allison when she tells Scott she misses him because honestly, who wouldn't miss having someone like that in their life?
"She might have said more but to be honest I was sort of distracted." He admits, laughing with a hint of blush on his cheeks that's far too attractive for his own good. Isaac's heart painfully skips a beat in his chest and he hates the glint in Scott's eye that tells him that he's heard it. "I kept trying to figure out which heartbeat was yours out of the rooms between us."
Isaac smiles softly and shakes his head; the sleepy yet placated look Scott is giving him makes it impossible for him to be upset. And he wants to be angry with him, though he's not sure why. He supposes because it's easier; he's used to walls and hiding behind them, he's used to building them with his hands until his fingers bleed to mask how he feels—because no one's ever cared about that before anyways.
Except Scott. He cares. And that scares the shit out of him.
"Do you want to take a walk?" Scott asks, tilting his head down the hall because he knows Isaac and he knows that he's not going to be able to fall back asleep for a while. It's also rather obvious that Scott doesn't want to go back to his room yet and the last thing Isaac wants is to let him go.
And even though his body aches to sleep, Isaac can't think of one thing he'd rather do. So he slips his shoes on and follows Scott out of his room, the door shutting behind them with a resounding thud.
0o0o0o0o
They walk around the motel complex a few times before changing their path to include the walkway to another parking lot and the pool, passing the sign Stiles had commented on when he parked the Jeep. They don't talk much at first, just listen to the cars driving past the motel, the random noises coming from closed up rooms, heartbeats, breathing and the sounds of their feet knocking against cement and gravel. But as soon as Isaac mentions the cabin they're driving to it's like a rock shakes free from the side of a cliff, an avalanche starting as Scott's face lights up.
Scott talks about the cabin in detail, how it's right on a lake and how it's been in the Stilinski family for years. He talks about when he was little, before his dad left, that the three of them used to join Stiles' family up there for barbeques and summer days filled with melted popsicles and lake water, camping out under the stars and how his father used to teach him how to fish. It's painful for Scott to talk about even though the memories are good, Isaac can sense it on him, can almost feel the tense hurt in his shoulders, can smell the rottenness of betrayal and disappointment.
At one point when Scott is talking, Isaac slips closer and slides his hand into his, easily lacing their fingers like he's done it a million times. The shorter smiles softly at the sentiment, his thumb brushing the tree of veins on Isaac's wrist as they walk.
Scott barely talks about his father, but when he does Isaac just…he just gets it. They have that in common, not having the best father figures. Scott also understands what it's like to hold the memories of his dad, the ones that were actually good, close to his heart. To memorize every detail; what his cologne may have smelled like, how his voice sounded, the smile lines on his face or the lightness in his eyes. He knows that his father wasn't always who he ended up being, that at one point in both of their lives they had supportive and loving male figures.
And Scott understands that not everything turns out the way it's supposed to.
They're quiet again for a while but the silence is not unwelcome between them. Isaac listens to Scott's heartbeat, his breathing, uses it as a tempo to regulate his own; his ears no longer hum with the sounds of his father screaming at him to get into the freezer, no harsh unwelcome spits of angry words and harsh fingers digging into his skin. Just Scott's gentle tha-thump, tha-thump of his heart. He tries to cover a yawn with the back of his hand but it's too late, his movements too sluggish from being exhausted and Scott sees it, pauses on the path to turn his body to face him—he thinks he's about to suggest they turn in, but the other something past Isaac's frame.
A slow smile spreads out on his face, annoyingly causing flutters of nervousness in Isaac's stomach.
He doesn't even want to ask. "…What?"
Isaac is about to turn around to look at what has caught Scott's attention but the other wolf is suddenly yanking him by his hand in that general direction, the taller not even recognizing where they've ended up until they stop at the edge of the motel pool.
Isaac raises his eyebrows and glances at Scott and then back at the water. The pool isn't as far gone as the rest of the motel, he's actually surprised with how well kept it looks and except for a few stray leaves and branches decorating the shallow end of the pool near the steps…it almost looks…sanitary enough to swim in.
But…his head snaps back to Scott, who is still grinning at him like he's given Isaac an early Christmas present and…no, they're not actually going to—
"Have you ever gone skinny dipping?" Scott asks; he's dropped the other's hand a while ago and now both sets of fingers are playing with the bottom of Isaac's t-shirt.
Isaac's mouth falls open and he stumbles over a few of the words that want to work their way out of his mouth but it seems they've gotten stuck under his tongue. "You can't be serious."
"Do I look like I'm kidding?" Scott asks, his eyes flickering up to Isaac's stormy blue ones.
They're still that warm coffee color that he identifies with but there's a hint of something darker bleeding into the patches of light brown. He shivers as the pads of Scott's fingers trail over his stomach, still tugging gently at the bottom of his shirt.
"You look like you're a lot of trouble." Isaac teases, making Scott chuckle and then pull back. He tugs off his own shirt, Isaac's eyes instantly attracted to the way his skin and muscles move under the lights surrounding the pool and the pale moonlight hanging low in the sky.
The other hums, waits for Isaac to take his own shirt off but when he doesn't he starts to strip down to his boxer briefs. He licks his lips and glances down as Scott bends to take the fabric off his legs, kicking his shoes off and aside a moment later. The black boxer briefs don't leave much to the imagination and this plan to use the pool is suddenly one of the best ideas Scott has ever had. He doesn't think he'll actually strip down naked though, not in a crowded motel with rooms surrounding them, not when his ex-girlfriend is how many rooms away sleeping soundly (at least he hopes so).
"Maybe I am." Scott admits when he slides up against Isaac, lifting himself up on his toes to gently kiss at his lips. "Now are you going to undress yourself or am I going to have to do it for you?"
Isaac can feel the heat of Scott's body rolling off of him in waves, pressing against the stitch work of his clothes to the point where it seems like it's seeping into the pores of his skin. His hands move to grip Scott's hipbones, his head dipping to press kisses to the side of Scott's mouth; the excitement mixed with a potent dose of happiness and hints of arousal are almost intoxicating enough to take his breath away.
It seems like a great idea until they're actually in the pool; their lips were attached for the betterment of Scott helping Isaac pull off articles of his clothing, chuckling against kisses as he trips on his sweatpants and gets his head stuck while trying to yank off his shirt. The water is a lot colder than either of them were expecting, Isaac thinks it has something to do with the rain water tainting the heated pool but they're both shivering. He's got goosebumps covering every inch of his body, but despite the fact that Scott is in the same boat he's trying to pretend that this is still the best idea he's ever had by diving under the water a few times and coming up directly in front of Isaac.
He smiles and kisses along Isaac's shoulder blades, trying to get his body to stop tensing against the shivers.
"If you relax it's a lot easier." He runs his nose over his collar bone.
Isaac's body uncoils after a few moments like a snapping rubber band, it's instantaneous and when Scott feels it he pulls back with a satisfied smile on his face, splashing his chest with water. He cards a few fingers through Scott's hair, watches as water drips down the side of his face and the ridges of his muscles as they stand in the shallow end, the water lapping against the edges of the pool with light thwapping noises.
"I am never going along with any of your ideas ever again." Isaac mutters but his syllables are coated with a smile in his voice.
"I thought you trusted me." Scott teases before moving to the side and pushing himself up to float on his back.
Isaac bites his lip and goes under water enough that his shoulders are covered and not exposed to the night air. Regardless of it being rather humid out, especially since the rain, there's a bite to the soft breeze working its way through the fake palm trees near the entrance of the pool that's making the hair on his arms stand up straight.
"I take back the one time I said that you always seem to want to do the right thing because this…this is in the definition of wrong." Isaac smirks as he uses both of his hands to press down on Scott's chest; the shorter loses the balance he'd acquired floating and submerges into the water for a few moments.
He comes back up and flips his head to the side, his hair shaking out like a dog would after getting a bath. Scott grins at him before shaking his head, "I told you I never have any idea what I'm doing most of the time. Besides," He inches closer and hooks his thumbs into the waistband of Isaac's boxer briefs before using the leverage to yank him against his chest. "I didn't hear much complaining when your clothes were coming off."
"Didn't seem like I had much of a choice either—" Scott cuts off the rest of his sentence with a kiss, his body pressing wonderfully against his in the cool water.
He grunts softly and leans down to wrap his arms around Scott's waist, lifting him up a little to compensate for the height difference as Scott's fingers dip into the back of Isaac's boxer briefs. His hips jerk forward at the sensation and a soft moan leaves the space between the Scott's lips as he opens his mouth more to slide his tongue along Isaac's. The heat of the kiss makes him completely forget where they are; a shitty motel in freezing cold water, a looming alpha pack hell bent on killing them all in Beacon Hills and Stilinski's obsession with the virgin sacrifices.
He forgets all about Derek throwing the glass at his head and kicking him out of the only home he had come to know since his father died, he forgets about Allison and her obvious feelings for her ex-boyfriend that he's currently kissing. He forgets about the fact that he and Scott are still undefined and that there's this blip of fear in the back of his mind that they might lose themselves in makeout sessions like this and the in the comfort of remaining in a gray area.
For a while it's just the two of them kissing, hands grabbing at one another like they might be able to tear the skin off bones. The wolf is raging inside of him behind his ribcage, a few things easily awaken it and arousal is definitely one of them. Primal urges, he thinks, tripwires to his claws coming out and his eyes glowing yellow. But he keeps the beast at bay, keeps it hidden behind his ribcage as the kiss slowly comes to a stop, both of them panting against one another's lips and breathing the same air. It's suffocating, almost, carbon dioxide and chlorine from the pool. But it's comforting too, like Isaac's lungs recognize the scent of Scott and collapse around it.
Isaac hums softly before pulling on Scott's wrist towards the deep end; there's a hesitance there in the way Scott's body tenses. He can smell waves of brief panic, it tastes like sweat and he rubs at his nose with the back of his hand to get rid of it. The shorter smiles apologetically in his direction and relents, letting him pull him into deeper water. The water laps over Isaac's upper chest and completely covers Scott's shoulders and while he doesn't understand the flash of fear in Scott's eyes a moment before he knows that wrapping an arm around his waist to pull him flush against his chest won't hurt either.
Scott smiles softly and rests his forehead against Isaac's nose and lips for a few long moments before speaking. "I almost drowned when I was eight." The panic and fear makes a hell of a lot of sense now and Isaac feels sort of guilty that he tried to drag him into the deep end. Scott senses it and shakes his head. "Dude, guilt smells like dusty bookshelves, knock it off."
Isaac smirks and feels the lightest bit of blushes paint over his cheekbones with thick brushstrokes and just shakes his head.
"I wasn't the greatest swimmer but I thought if I just went out into the deep end slowly and treaded water the best I could then I'd be okay. But my," He looks down at the water between them, like the clear liquid has the words he's looking for. "But my asthma was bad and when the water reached my chin I felt like I couldn't breathe."
Isaac raises his hand from the place on Scott's back to rub the back of the other's neck, his thumb pushing slow circles into the top of his spine.
Scott lifts his head and brushes their noses together then leans back into the touch of Isaac's fingers. "I don't know how long I was under the water until my dad pulled me out but I remember feeling lightheaded and like…" He touches his chest, fingers scratching at his sternum. "Like my lungs were going to pop."
He never wants Scott to go through something like that again, the feeling like there's so much pressure on his chest that his organs will burst like a balloon kissing a needle. He knows it's nearly impossible to ask for and while Scott may never feel liquid itching its way to fill up his lungs he knows that metaphorical drowning can be just as bad as actually breathing in water. He knows it's impossible to save him from something like that, no matter how much he may want to or try. And the thought is paralyzing, it's buckling against his chest.
Isaac brushes his lips over Scott's forehead and sighs, his hand moving down the other's spine to rest on his lower back again. He feels obligated to expose himself even though he feels like a broken record with his issues and nightmares. But Scott's eyes are warm, they're open, they're nonjudgmental and he finds himself falling into them as he begins to speak.
"When my dad would lock me in the freezer..." He licks his lips and smiles softly, because at this point what else can he do but pretend it's nothing but some sort of sick joke. "Sometimes, he'd forget I was in there and I'd fall asleep but…" Isaac swallows, finds something interesting in the water to the right of Scott because he can feel the other's eyes boring into his face. "other times I'd panic and I'd try and claw my way out but I couldn't. It was suffocating. It…it felt like—"
"Like drowning." Scott whispers and Isaac nods.
The shorter cups the side of Isaac's face, the skin on his fingers rough and prune-like from being in the water. He feels a tingling sensation where Scott touches him against his cheek, like he's trying to take his pain away, or wants to, tries to, but then doesn't. His eyes are filled with something that he can gratefully say is not pity, the last thing he wants is for Scott to feel sorry for him. The coffee color is dolloped with dark shades of caramel; streaks of protectiveness and guilt and pain all rolled into one.
"I wish I could have done something…I just, I don't know, anything so you wouldn't have had to go through that."
The sentiment is not lost on him but he bites the tip of his tongue in responding with something that sounds a lot like 'it's okay' because it's not, 'don't worry about it' because he doesn't want Scott to stop caring (though he doubts he would regardless) or 'it's made me into a stronger person' because he's not so sure of that sometimes.
"You can't save everyone." Isaac says instead, his voice serious even though he's trying to say 'thank you' through his tone. It's not working.
At least Scott doesn't look insulted but instead determined, his eyes flashing gold to prove a point. "I can try." Is all he replies with before kissing Isaac as a sheer point of distraction.
Isaac doesn't mind, he's not sure what he'd say to that anyways. He figures replying that it's pointless to try, to stretch himself that thin, that it's physically impossible for him to reach everyone when he might need to, or that his heart is too big (and that it's one of those things he loves and hates about him at the same time) is useless. Scott knows all this and still refuses to think any other way.
No matter how much some people don't want to or can't be saved.
