from rot to bloom.

           watching her face drop was heartbreaking .      what once just seconds ago blessed him with a type of pleasure he was the one giving her was now split into that of sorrow . he even stood there staring at the empty wall , letting her leave without him explaining anything . not that there was an explanation .      ❝      damnit ...      ❞ fingers slithered through his hair just as his feet pivoted and he ran down the stairs after her . he had to talk to her , and fix this ──── how ? that was a problem he'd face once he caught up to her . ❝      sophie , wait !      ❞ he's surely caught up to her in no time , abruptly planting his body in her way to avoid her going out those doors . ❝      i didn't mean that . ──── well no , i did ──── but not in the way you think . just let me explain myself , please .      ❞

most days it's still strange --- isaac gets up in the morning , pulls on his big boy pants , leather jacket and bad boy persona then heads to the institution where he'd formally played the part of invisible nobody. now , he straightens his shoulders , takes up space. erica shoves aside the oblivious outliers and those stupid enough to try and make a stand , and the huff of laughter that escapes him is genuine. there's no pang of sympathy , no one had ever really been in his corner before erica and boyd had come along , both lured into the same pyramid scheme of werewolfy - ness by derek hale ... and if the general population of beacon hills high wasn't scared of her , they deserved what they got. god knows isaac doesn't wanna be on erica's bad side ...

which is , in part , why he takes the tastycake without hesitation. ' 'm not , ' isaac protests , mouth full of stolen sweet. it's a knee - jerk reaction ( defend yourself , defuse the situation , apologize profusely , remember to duck ) muscle memory from his father's abuse. and while he's pretty sure that erica isn't going to punch him or throw a plate at his head , it's a hard habit to kick. no matter how strong he is now , that scared little boy still resides inside him.

maybe she's a little nervous. they went from being betas and having a pack to … whatever they are now. party of three – practically a tight-knit family at this point. although, boyd seems to be getting out there more lately, leaving quite a bit of space for just a party of two. (not that she's complaining.) but with that at the forefront of her mind, what little they had glued together seems to be separating more and more and … the thought of going back to who and what she'd been, alone and rejected, weighs down on erica. isaac could easily join scott and his friends. he's the kind of guy who belongs with a group like that. and if that were to happen, how long before she's entirely left behind?

but that worry is easily diffused the moment his arm comes around her shoulder. her own arm lifts and she instictively hooks her fingertips over his – not quite holding his hand, but grasping on. her head meets the back of his arm as she tilts back enough to glance up at him. she's all smiles and lingering eye contact, perhaps a little too long. ❝ that's because he's too much of a moral compass. ❞ she walks in step with him for a brief moment before playfully bumping her hip into his – and reluctantly pulling away from his side with the action. ❝ play your cards right, and there may be more of where that came from. ❞

𝒉𝒆  𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅  𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍  𝒉𝒆𝒓.        stab  her  as  she  stabbed  him.        drop  her  off  at  francis'  doorstep  &*  take  the  inevitable  noose.        that  would  be  easier  than  falling  for  this  again.          but  god  ,  the  way  his  legs  tremble  tells  him  how  quickly  he  will  drop  to  his  knee  for  her.        he  wonders  if  his  cousin  would  indeed  take  her  head  –  or  had  her  choosing  him  won  him  over  in  the  end  ?        he  knows  he  himself  cannot  raise  a  sword  to  her.      he  can  only  hope  francis  would  show  the  same  mercy.          no  matter  what  she  deserves  ,  he  does  not  wish  ill  of  her.        that  is  his  downfall.        

his  swallow  is  dry  ,  but  his  gaze  is  anything  but.       he  blinks  back  the  stinging  as  he  tries  to  wrestle  between  mind  &*  heart.        he  could  tuck  tail  &*  run  –  he  shouldn't  have  come  to  this  house.       why  had  he  ?       for  the  chance  to  say  goodbye  to  the  memories  here  ,  not  the  hope  that  he'd  see  her.       he  had  no  reason  to  think  she'd  come.      but  she  had  –  unprompted  ;  unplanned.      had  fate  played  a  hand  ?      led  them  both  here  ?       what  a  lovesick  fool.       

such  a  fool  that  he  steps  the  last  bit  of  distance  over  to  her  &*  takes  one  of  her  hands  in  both  of  his.     his  side  aches  ,  earning  a  hiss  of  pain  as  he  stands  on  uneasy  feet.      that  wound  she  inflicted  has  hardly  healed  –  simply  stitched  &*  covered  with  herbs  &*  ointments.      ❛   …  antoine  is  waiting  not  far  from  here.   ❜        with  francis'  allowing  him  to  take  louis  to  navarre  ,  did  he  know  mary  would  go  with  them  ?       sparing  his  life  meant  losing  his  wife.       ❛    if  we  can  get  there  ,  we'll  have  some  sanctuary.    ❜

the silence and distance between them gives cause for her nervousness to spike. she knew what she was risking by being here.  (possible death, likely disappointment.)  and yet she knows now what she wants and can't go back. she'd be living a lie. her heart has belonged to louis for some time now, despite her faults and sins, and she'd rather the final blow be by his own hand than to return to the castle to play queen, to a husband she no longer loves.

the silence between them is so deafening. mary takes to picking nervously at her nails as her hands fold against her midsection. she holds his gaze for as long as she can, hoping he can read her utmost sincerity and take her offer into consideration. brows furrow just slightly and soon, her gaze follows with it. (she's grown afraid of his response – even if she will accept whatever he chooses. be it death, or sent away.) from the corner of her eye, she senses the movement first. just moments from accepting defeat, she now feels her hand held between his and stares up to his face, relief washing through her features almost immediately as a smile cracks through.

he could hear the exhausted hissing a mile away. ❛ see, this was something i was assured wouldn't happen living in a house with hair gel guys. and dean. ❜ he mumbled to himself, his volume increasing with each stomp up the staircase. ❛ i thooooought you guys said the products cabinet was off limits to overnight visitors! ❜ volume: MAX. steve wasn't even sure which of the guys was home, or which one had a visitor. all he knew was he could smell his hairspray from the kitchen. his last can. the last drops.

without a second thought, steve flung the bathroom door open, ready to catch a complete stranger red handed. ❛ alright, you owe me twel–– what the–? ❜ except it wasn't a complete stranger. at all. it was hannah's best friend, the one with the nice hair. ❛ allie? when did you even get here? ❜

oh – that irritated voice and those stomps up there stairs had been directed at her, huh? she feels like a deerin headlights: eyes wide, lips parted and jaw slightly agape as he finger releases its press against the hair spray nozzle. if this was off limits, why did the guys downstairs insist that she used it?

she snaps back to here and now, a playful grin gracing her features as she sets down the bottle and begins running her hair through freshly hairsprayed tresses, allowing for loose waves, big hair and bangs and patting the rest down where it should go.