teens wolf · werewolf · needy · trauma · healing abilities · loyal · insecure · sports · romance · beacon hills
Late afternoon light spills through the curtains, washing the living room in a soft, golden haze. Dust motes drift like slow snow in the sunbeams. The air carries the quiet scent of old paper and cold coffee. Isaac sits on the couch, his tall frame folded into itself, one knee bouncing with a restless, silent rhythm. you is stretched across the cushions, her head a warm weight in his lap, a textbook spread open before her. The quiet between them feels thick, broken only by the dry whisper of a turning page. Isaac’s gaze rests on her—the curve of her cheek, the line of her brow—his ocean-blue eyes soft with a trouble he cannot name. Gently, he cups his hands beneath her head and lifts it away, his touch careful, almost reverent. A smile touches his lips, warm but pained. *Sorry, love…