"Hey, kiddo."

Isaac lifted his head slowly, tears glistening in his eyes as he looked up at his aunt. His broad shoulders trembled with suppressed sobs, the weight of his grief palpable in the air. Sue settled herself beside him, close enough to offer comfort but giving him space to express his anguish.

"I miss her," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion, each word tinged with sorrow.

"I know, kiddo. We all do."

The funeral had taken place on a serene afternoon, the sun casting its warm rays over the earth, painting the sky in a brilliant hue of blue. The casket of Jane Sylvester, adorned with flowers, rested at the front of the room, a solemn reminder of the woman they had lost. The scent of lilies mingled with the faint aroma of incense, creating a bittersweet fragrance that hung in the air, a poignant tribute to the life that had been.

"This is the first time I've cried at a funeral," Isaac murmured thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on his aunt's casket. "In fact, I think this is the first time I've attended a funeral."

"How are you?"

"Fine," he answered, his tone clipped. "I've…I've had better days."

Sue observed him carefully, noting the exhaustion etched into his features; dark circles shadowed his eyes, hands shaking slightly, and upon closer inspection, she noticed the faint traces of dried blood on his knuckles.

"Have you been fighting?" Sue asked, her worry evident in her voice as she glanced at the bruise on his cheek.

Isaac's gaze faltered, his hands instinctively retreating into his pockets as shame colored his cheeks. He avoided her gaze, his silence a tacit admission of guilt.

"Isaac, you're not like that. What happened to you?"

"Maybe that's who I am. I'm tired of everyone telling me who I am or how to feel," he muttered bitterly, his words tinged with resentment and self-loathing."

"Fighting isn't going to solve anything. You're just going to end up hurt, and you've got us all worried."

"Then stop worrying so much about me." Isaac snapped, his voice tinged with a mix of anger and despair. Tears welled up in his eyes, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. "Leave me alone." His voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible as he confessed, "I don't know who I am anymore."

Seth had to rub his eyes twice to verify that what he was seeing wasn't a figment of his imagination—Isaac was sitting on the porch of his parents' house, his figure slouched and shoulders weighed down with an invisible burden. He frowned as he noticed that only his car was parked, the only vehicle in sight. Plus, Isaac was supposed to be in New York with his hockey team, not sitting here in Fairbrook.

"Isaac, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in New York?"

"Hi," Isaac greeted dejectedly, his voice tinged with weariness. "I got suspended."

Seth took a seat beside him, the wooden porch creaking slightly beneath their weight. Together, they gazed out at the sun-drenched street, the warmth of late May enveloping them in its embrace.

"I still remember when you got your first skates, you know?" he chuckled, the nostalgia evident in his voice. "Your parents gave them to you when you turned two. It was more your father's idea, to be honest. Jacob was hoping that by the time Christmas came around, he could take you skating with him."

"I don't know if I want to be a hockey player anymore."

"What do you want to be, then?"

"I don't know," Isaac admitted with a heavy sigh, his expression crestfallen. "Lately, all I do is hurt people."

Seth looked at him with compassion not knowing what to say. His heart ached at the raw honesty in his words, the pain etched into every syllable as if carved from the depths of his soul. Isaac seemed more lost than ever and he didn't know how to ease his burden, some wounds ran too deep to be healed with mere words.

"Let me take you somewhere? It's not too far from here," he offered quietly, a glimmer of hope shining in his eyes.

Isaac nodded silently, his steps falling in sync with Seth's as their footsteps echoing softly against the pavement reaching the Fairbrook community ice rink. Uncertainty gnawed at him, mingling with a flicker of curiosity as they approached the entrance. Despite his apprehension, he followed his father's friend inside, the cool air of the rink enveloping them as they stepped onto the gleaming ice.

Inside, a hushed serenity blanketed the space, the rink sparkled under the gentle rays of sunlight filtering through the expansive windows, casting a radiant glow over the arena. Adorned with photographs of legendary hockey players adorning the walls, including Isaac's own father, the rink served as a silent testament to the sport's storied history.

"What are we doing here?" Isaac's voice echoed faintly against the rink's walls as he surveyed the familiar surroundings, his brow furrowing in confusion

Seth remained silent as he guided him to the center of the rink."What do you see?"

"What do you mean?"

"Look around you, what do you see here? Tell me."

"I don't know. An ice rink, some seats, posters…."

"And who do you see on those posters?"

"Great hockey stars. Why?"

"You left someone out."

Isaac's eyes scanned the walls until they settled on a familiar image—a poster of his father, smiling down at him proudly in his hockey gear. Beside the poster, his father's jersey hung framed on the wall, a silent tribute to his legacy.

"My father," he breathed out, his voice thick with reverence as he stared at the image of the man who had once been his hero.

"This is your father's legacy, Isaac," Seth remarked softly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "But it doesn't have to be yours."

As Isaac's resolve crumbled beneath the weight of his emotions, he held him close as he collapsed against him. His words came out between ragged breaths as he grappled with the overwhelming sense of loss and confusion.

"I don't know who I am," he sobbed brokenly, his voice choking with sorrow.

The sight was utterly heart-wrenching, each anguished sob tearing through the air like a dagger of pain. His cries reverberated in the stillness of the ice rink, a raw outpouring of emotion that spoke volumes, he seemed utterly lost and afraid. Each tear that cascaded down Isaac's cheeks seemed to carry with it a desperate cry for help.

"You're okay. Everything is going to be okay. You'll see."

Sabrina's impatience radiated palpably through the phone line as she tapped her foot tapping rhythmically against the floor in frustration. With each passing moment, her irritation only seemed to intensify, evident in the scowl that marred her features as she scrutinized her nails with a furrowed brow.

"Sabrina Marshall," a male voice answered, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Seth, I'm not in the mood for your jokes. Is my son with you?"

"I thought you were all in New York," Seth replied with a touch of sarcasm, clearly enjoying needling her.

"You know perfectly well who I'm talking about. Is Isaac with you, yes or no?"

"Ah, if you mean him, then yes. As a matter of fact, he's been here all week."

"We told him he's staying home. Lately, I don't know what's going on with him, but he doesn't listen to me anymore, and I'm starting to get fed up."

"I'll tell you what's happening. He's scared, Sabrina. He's terrified."

"What is he afraid of? Tell me because it seems like he's said more words to you in one afternoon than to us in two months."

"He doesn't know who he is. He's lost and doesn't know how to ask for help." Seth's frustration was palpable, his words heavy with concern. "All those clandestine fights, those insomnia-fueled nights, getting suspended from the hockey team... That's all Isaac, it's him. That boy desperately needs his mother, and she's not here, Sabrina."

"He would have come to New York with us if it weren't for the fight he got into with Jayden, he knows that."

"I'm not talking about you, Sabrina. I'm talking about Sophia."

"What... what do you mean?"

"Isaac needs his mother and father to tell him that it's okay to be afraid and that he doesn't need to follow in their footsteps to make them proud."

"We've never pressured him into anything," Sabrina protested, her voice strained with emotion. "I hope you're not implying that."

"Jayden wants to be a hockey player like Alec, your kids want to be singers like you, how do you think Isaac has felt about that?" Seth asked, his tone edged with sarcasm.

"He likes hockey," Sabrina insisted, her voice firm with conviction. "It's been his dream since he was a child."

"Sabrina, don't talk to me like I don't know my own nephew," he warned, "I've seen him take his first steps, I've seen him skate for the first time, I've seen him grow up. Don't you fucking dare tell me I don't know Isaac."

"Then don't tell me how to raise my son" she shot back, her voice tinged with frustration and defiance.

"You may have raised him and he may call you Mom, but you're not his mother. His mother is dead, or do you think I haven't seen the way you and Alec look at him?"

Sabrina's eyes widened in shock, her heart sinking as Seth's words hit her like a tidal wave. "What are you talking about?" she snapped, her voice tinged with defensiveness.

"Alec sees Jacob, and you see Sophia. If I noticed, do you think Isaac hasn't?"

"He's said that?"

"Those 'bad days' you claim he has is just Isaac missing his parents like any kid in his situation would. That people-pleaser personality that you have attributed to him, Isaac has always been like that. His parents raised him that way; it didn't begin with the accident."

Seth's voice on the line resonated with a fierce intensity that commanded attention from everyone present. "When Isaac got angry as a child, he would either lock himself in his room, or go to the ice rink, or go to the Fabrays' house, or come to see me—it didn't come from the fucking accident."

"You've been telling him what he has to feel all his life, explaining every reaction he has, and it's not like that, Isaac has always been like that. The only problem he has is that he misses his parents and has never been able to mourn their death."

The voice held a note of accusation, his frustration palpable with pent-up emotion "Stop giving a fucking fancy name to every reaction he has and let him be him," With that final admonition, Seth hung up the call, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.

"Who would have thought that the Church had hot people and not just bitter old men?"

The playful remark reached Isaac's ears, causing him to glance down from his ladder. A smile tugged at his lips as he spotted a vibrant redhead, holding the ladder steady with a mischievous smirk on her face. Chuckling, he carefully climbed down the ladder to join her.

"Hannah, what are you doing here?" He greeted her warmly, leaning in to plant a kiss on each of her cheeks. "I would hug you but... it would ruin your outfit." He gestured to himself, clad only in light pink swimming trunks with paint stains adorning his chest, evidence of his day's work.

"This is me making an intervention."

"By intervention," Isaac mimicked air quotes with his fingers, "what kind of intervention do you mean?"

"A family intervention," Hannah stated matter-of-factly as they strolled down the street, the warmth of the summer sun enveloping them. "You can't hide in Fairbrook forever."

Isaac had been residing at his parents' house for almost half of June, with frequent visits from Seth and Grace. Engaging in volunteer work at the church, painting the facade, and assisting at the hockey camp had provided him with a sense of purpose. The laughter of children on the ice rink had stirred something within him, reminding him of the joy he once found in skating. With each passing day, he felt as though he was reclaiming a part of himself, a sentiment Grace had playfully remarked upon, noting the newfound confidence in his stride.

"Have you all come to Fairbrook?"

"Apparently, I have to stop giving 'fucking fancy names' to everything that happens to you, and this 'meeting' was long overdue."

"I take it you've spoken to Seth?"

The redhead rolled her eyes good-naturedly."I didn't endure four years of rigorous study only to have a waiter from Fairbrook lecture me on how I diagnose my patients, you know?"

"He cares about me."

"Just like all of them."

With a deep breath to steady himself, Isaac stepped forward, his movements deliberate yet tentative, "Hi," his words carried a sense of warmth and sincerity, drawing the attention of those gathered on the porch. Slowly, they turned to look at him, their expressions a mix of surprise and apprehension.

"Are you being serious right now?" Hannah's voice cut through the tension with incredulity, her disbelief palpable as she surveyed the scene before her. "You haven't seen each other in almost two months and you don't even give each other a hug? You're family for God's sake."

Her words hung in the air, a gentle admonishment that seemed to stir something within them all. In an instant they all rushed forward, enveloping Isaac in a cacophony of hugs and tears.

"Don't do this again, you hear me, young man?" Sabrina's voice wavered with emotion as she scolded him between tears and hugs. "You've grown up too, my baby. I've missed you so much."

"I'm still as tall as the last time you saw me, mom," he teased gently, his words tinged with affection as he hugged her tightly. "Although I'm plumper, Grace's meals are from another world."

A sudden slap echoed through the air, the sharp sound drawing everyone's attention to the mark on his cheek. He winced slightly, his expression sheepish as he met his sister's gaze.

"Okay," he conceded with a wry smile, "I deserved that one."

"I hate you, you asshole," Gabrielle muttered before she wrapped her around him tightly.

"I've missed you too, Ellie."

One by one, they hugged and scolded Isaac, their voices a chorus of affection and concern, until only Jayden remained, his expression a mix of frustration and hurt. The tension in the air was palpable as the entire family watched expectantly, saac and Jayden had never gone a day without seeing each other and always complained and pouted when they were forced apart. Now suddenly, they hadn't seen each other for almost two months, anything could happen.

"Congratulations on making State," Isaac ventured, his voice tinged with uncertainty as he scratched his neck, unsure of how to approach the situation.

"No thanks to you, asshole." Jayden retorted sharply, his arms crossed over his chest in a defensive stance. There was a hint of hurt in his eyes, a silent accusation hanging in the air between them.

"I'm sorry."

"You should be."

"I didn't mean to say you weren't a good hockey player.I was just frustrated with myself, and I took it out on you."

"You were a huge bitch, just so you know."

"I know."

"I should hate you."

"I know."

"But I can't."

"I know."

Unable to maintain their facade of anger any longer, the two friends embraced each other tightly, their laughter mingling with the sounds of their mock scuffle as they stumbled against the grass.

"I've missed you, Babygirl."

"Ditto, Princess."

"Woah, there," Santana exclaimed, her eyes widening in surprise as she caught sight of her best friend entering through the door. "What the hell have you done to your hair, Fabray?"

"I dyed it, like I told you I would."

"I didn't expect it to be so... so pink," the brunette admitted, her surprise quickly turning into approval. "Okay, Fabray. I like your new look."

"Quinnie!" Brittany's voice rang out with excitement as she bounded over and threw her arms around her best friend's neck. "You look great. Pink is definitely your color."

"Especially now that her favorite boy is back in town."

"I don't know what you're talking about, I just thought I needed a change. New year, new me."

"So all of this," The Latina gestured towards her friend's head, "has nothing to do with Isaac saying in his birthday interview that he found pink hair hot?"

"He also looked so hot with his hair a little longer," Brittany chimed in, holding up a stack of magazines featuring their friend on the cover. Headlines like 'Isaac Hargrave: The Crown Prince Comes of Age!', 'Young, Rich, and Legal: Isaac Hargrave Comes of Age!', and 'The Hargrave Legacy Continues: Isaac Turns 18 in Style!' adorned the glossy covers.

"Look at that, Quinnie. Now you'll have more hair to grab onto."

"Santana, shut up," Quinn snapped, though she couldn't deny the subtle thrill that shot through her at the thought of Isaac's new look. Her cheeks flushed pink, matching her newly dyed hair, as she tried to maintain composure.

"The sexual tension between you is enough to make the entire state of Ohio orgasm."

"And everyone deserves orgasms, Quinnie."

"Girls, Isaac and I are just friends, nothing more."

The couple exchanged knowing looks before bursting into laughter. "Fabray, you are friends in the same way Britt and I are best friends," Santana giggled, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. "What you want – no, what you need – is to ride that dick."

"That's not true! We're just friends," she protested, but her friends weren't buying it.

"If you're so sure about what you just said," Brittany interjected, her smile mischievous as she watched Quinn's expression shift, "Get ready because tomorrow is Isaac's birthday party and we've been invited."