#kirsaac

25. “You think you’re the only one that’s suffering here?”

Kira hates this. She hates how he’s so distant. She hates how he won’t talk to her, how he looks away when she catches him staring. She hates it, she hates all of it.

“Please talk to me,” she whispers. She thinks it’s a whisper, anyway - or maybe her voice is just too broken to get any louder.

He shakes his head, and if Kira didn’t know better, she would swear his face is wet. “I can’t,” he says. “I just - I can’t.”

It’s unsurprising that she finds her own face wet, warm, and practically burning underneath her tear tracks. “Isaac, please. I can’t do this without you.”

Tentatively, she reaches out to touch his arm - and he jerks away. “Kir, I don’t know why the hell you didn’t talk to me first.”

For the first time in hours, he turns to look at her. His eyes are red-rimmed and his cheeks are blotchy and he smells like smoke. Kira frowns. “Have you been smoking?” she asks.

Isaac stares at her for a long moment before laughing, a little cruelly. “That is not the fucking point,” he mutters.

Anger wells inside her a little at that. “I don’t care what the point is, Isaac,” she says. “I just need you to support me, for Christ’s sake.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to support you when you’ve signed up to get yourself killed?!”

There’s a long pause then. Isaac looks a little shocked by himself, but still juts his chin out, like now he’s said what he’s needed to say and doesn’t plan on taking it back. She feels her own lip jut out a little, but she won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry even harder.

“You think you’re the only one that’s suffering here?” she bites back eventually. Isaac blinks, shifts so that he’s leaning away from her a little. “Do you think that I’m doing this for fun? I’m so sick and tired of not being in control of myself, Isaac.” She sighs and tilts her head forward to lean on her hands. “I just want to be okay. I’m hoping Eichen will help me.”

Isaac winces at the name. She knows that he’s thinking of Stiles when he came back a few years ago - stripped of a large part of himself, with flashbacks and fears he hadn’t had before. But, over time, he got better. He became whole again. That’s what Kira wants. Maybe not the middle bits, but she wants that end. She wants better.

He sighs and reaches out, loosely grabbing her hand. “I just don’t want to lose you,” he murmurs.

The McCall-Stilinski Holiday Parties are always what Erica would call “bangers;” everyone goes, everyone gets drunk, and everyone goes home either with someone they’ll regret being with in the morning, or alone with tears down their drunken faces. Not Isaac, though, because fortunately for him and probably the rest of the world, Isaac doesn’t drink. Therefore, he is there as a designated driver for whoever so happens to need one. (Scott has thanked him profusely for this; Stiles stands in the doorway and blows raspberries.)

They arrive promptly at 10:30, and Erica and Allison head directly for the booze. Lydia rolls her eyes, then grabs Derek by the hand and leads him towards the food, where Isaac sees Scott socializing with one of Stiles’ college friends. Which leaves Isaac alone, to stand awkwardly hover-y by the couch, his phone his only source of communication.

By 12:00, people are already stoned/drunk out of their minds, and Isaac and the other designated drivers start hearding people out. First he takes home two girls, Tracy and Hayden, both of whom cry because they think his eyes are pretty. Then a boy named Mason, who passes out as soon as his head hits the passenger’s seat. (Isaac uses his phone to call “Liam” on his emergency test, who was pretty pissed when Isaac woke him up, but instructed him where to go anyway.)

Then, as soon as he came back, two girls stumble up to him. One looks incoherently intoxicated, but the other pretty straight-faced and seemingly sober. “We need a driver,” says the calm one, quite bluntly, and Isaac raises his eyebrows.

“You seem to be doing okay,” he says, and she rolls her eyes.

“Because I don’t drink,” she says plainly. “But whatever, we need to get home and everyone else has a line coming out of their ass.”

Isaac sighs and crosses his arms. This girl has already managed to annoy the crap out of him, and it’s only been a two minute conversation. “Look,” he says, “I’m not exactly having the time of my life driving drunk people home, so why don’t you drive your girlfriend home and have the time of your lives not in my car?”

She mumbles something that Isaac doesn’t quite catch. Then she lets out a frustrated sigh and says, “I can’t drive, okay? Now please.”

The quite obviously drunk one giggles, and begins to play with the strings on his hoodie. “It’s cold out,” she says, and it’s for the first time he notices her odd attire of a tanktop and denim shorts.

“She lost her clothes and I can’t find them,” the other explains shortly. “Now will you get us home or what?”

He sighs and looks between them, eventually saying, “Okay.”

When they walk outside, the drunk girl (”Kira,” the other one says, nodding to her girlfriend. “And my name’s Malia.”) looks small and cold. So he does what any rational person would do; he takes off his jacket and pulls it over her shoulders. She beams at him and wraps it, large on her tiny frame, further around herself.

Malia raises her eyebrows, and he shrugs. “She looked cold,” he explains, before leading them towards his Volvo.

They both safely buckle Kira into the back, where she giggles and plays with the zipper on the hoodie she’s now wearing. Malia and Isaac climb in front, and begin their ride in silence, besides the directions she gives him to their apartment.

They sit in quiet until eventually Isaac clears his throat. “So,” he says, “are you in college?”

As if answering this question could literally exhaust her, Malia sighs and slumps in her seat. “I’m not,” she says, and hooks her thumb over her shoulder at Kira. “But, believe it or not, she is.”

Isaac leans over the seat a little while still looking at the road. “What do you major in?” he asks.

Slowly, she leans forward and puts her finger on his nose. “Education,” she whispers, like it’s a secret, and then laughs.

“You want to be a teacher?” he asks after she removes her finger.

Malia sighs again. “When she’s not drunk,” she mutters, then sits up. “Take the next right.”

He does, and she tells him when to stop on the street. She hops out of the car and pops open the door, but Kira has already unbuckled herself. “Thank you, young sir,” she says, in a deep and ridiculous voice. “And what is your name?”

“Isaac,” he says, automatically, and she giggles again.

From behind her, Malia grunts. “Thanks, Isaac,” she says, and pulls Kira out by her legs. But she can’t stand her up, so she ducks her head back in and asks, “Can you help?”

So Isaac climbs out of the car and jogs over to them, helping Malia to hold Kira up by her arms. “Thanks,” Malia mutters, and he proceeds to walk them up to their apartment.

When they get up to their third floor apartment, Isaac holds Kira as Malia opens up the locks on the doors. Then Kira turns to him and stands on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. “You’re very pretty,” she says, and then promptly leans over and pukes on his shoes.

He just looks at his shoes, and Malia turns and looks at his shoes, and Kira leans wearily on Isaac’s shoulder. Eventually, Malia says, “Huh.” Then she grabs Kira by the hand, pulls her through the door, and says, “Well, goodnight.” Then she closes the door in his face. Isaac blinks, then looks down at his shoes again, and then decides to throw them out on his way home.

–

By the time the next morning rolls around, everyone is very hungover. Or at least Isaac assumes they are, because they are all still asleep. But Isaac makes them all pancakes anyway, and Lydia is the first to come to get some, her hair half in curlers and half down. “You’re a saint,” she says, through a mouthful pancakes, then resolves to go get Stiles and Scott.

Allison and Erica arrive next. Erica comes in grumbling, and the previous day’s eyeliner smudged under her eyes, but makes happy noises around her breakfast. Allison smiles at him gratefully, wrapped up in Erica’s baggy sweat clothes. Derek eventually arrives from his shower, and Lydia comes with Scott and Stiles, both in only boxers and covered in hickeys.

All seven of them sit together and eat their breakfast, until the noise of a phone rings out into the air. Everyone reaches into their pockets and frantically checks their phones, until eventually, Allison sighs, reaches into her bra, and picks up. “Hello?” she says, and pauses while she waits for the other person to speak. At the end, she clears her throat, holds out her phone and announces, “Isaac, it’s for you.”

They all look at him, and he blinks and swallows the last of his pancake before excusing himself with Allison’s phone. He walks to his bedroom and closes himself in. When the door clicks shut, he brings the phone to his ear.

“Isaac Lahey?”

It’s a familiar voice, but he can’t quite place it. So he just shrugs and says, “Yeah?”

There’s a rustling on the other end of the line, and someone sighs. “My name’s Kira Yukimura?” she says, and now Isaac places the voice with the face: Drunk Teacher Girl. “You drove me and my friend home last night, and I kind of took your jacket. So now I have your phone.”

He frowns and reaches for his jeans, only to find no phone there. That makes so much sense, actually. “Oh,” he says. “Alright, well, I can come by your apartment and pick it up?”

“Actually, my friend, Malia, told me about how I acted last night,” she says, and she sounds awkard and frustrated all at once. “And then, you know, how she acted after I acted. And then, after I explained to her that that isn’t what people do, I began to feel so, so bad. I want to apologize in person, but I’m going straight to work as soon as Malia’s boyfriend comes to pick us up.” Malia has a boyfriend? He kind of assumed that… “So I was wondering if maybe you wanted to meet up later for coffee?”

Is this a date? It’s not necessarily a date. He thought she was cute, but she was pretty drunk when they met, and she doesn’t seem to remember much from it. Plus, he hasn’t been on a date since high school. (With Allison, no less, and they all know how that turned out.)

But he doesn’t feel the need to overanalyze it, because people are people, so there’s a chance she’ll fuck him over anyway. So he just shrugs. “Sure,” he says. “Let me know when and where.”

–

Kira’s coffee meet happens to be just an hour after and a half an hour away from his creative writing class, so he gets there (with harsh traffic) about fifteen minutes early. Which is good, because Kira shows up about five minutes later with a sheepish smile. “You’re early,” he says, with a half-smile because he’s a dick like that.

She grins and sits. “You’re earlier,” she says, and he shrugs.

“Maybe I really needed that jacket back,” he replies. “It does have my phone, two mints, and some pocket lint inside, after all.”

She laughs, and it sounds like a bell. Then, blushing, she clears her throat and slides his jacket across the table. “I believe that belongs to you. And also belonging to you is an apology for the way my friend and I acted yesterday night–”

But he waves her off. “It’s no worry,” he assures her.

“It is a worry,” she insists, then blushes even more and ducks her head. “Malia, um. She told me about the shoes and, I would like to both apologize and buy you new shoes.”

And, what happens next, well. He isn’t exactly sure why he does it, but a little voice in his head tells him to go for it. So he swallows and says, “Let me buy you dinner and we’ll be even.”

Kira smiles and happily agrees.

–

They date. Like, date-date. They go out, and laugh, and have major PDA issues when they go out. (He even invites him to dinner with his friends and siblings one night. Stiles asks her what her intentions are with “their Isaac.” Although Isaac just buries his head in his forearms, Kira laughs. Thankfully.)

It’s about 5 months in that things get… weird.

He’s at a bar one night, with Erica, Derek Lydia, and Allison. Allison just got a premotion at work, and Erica insisted they celebrate. Scott and Stiles decided to stay in. (To do what, Isaac doesn’t want to know. The time was already past 11 pm when they left, so he supposes it’s reasonable for most people to choose to stay in, although most people don’t throw raging parties well into the night at Christmas. Scott had said they were “watching Netflix,” but something about the look in Stiles’ eyes made him think that maybe they were doing something else.) So they’re out to dinner, Allison and Erica cooing over each other, when Lydia turns to him with a mischevious glint in her eye. “So,” she says, “how are things, Isaac?”

He swallows the bit of pizza he has in his mouth and shrugs. “Things are fine,” he says. “Class is going kind of slow, but I think it’s just because I’ll be graduating soon.”

She nods, as if she’s interested, and then gets to the real question he can tell she wants to ask: “How are Kira things?”

Isaac rolls his eyes and is about to reply when Erica chimes in. “Yeah, bro,” she says, looking up from where she and Allison are across the table. “How is it going with Kira? I was beginning to think you were never going to befriend anyone outside our group, let alone date them. Now you’re dating a smoking hot girl and hanging out with her best friend.”

Derek nods thoughtfully and adds on. “Things do seem to be getting serious with you two,” he says. “Well, as serious as you’ve gotten with anyone dating-wise, that is.”

“I wasn’t sure she was going to make it this far,” Erica says thoughtfully, filling her mouth with another large bite of pizza. “I guess you must really like her.”

“I hear wedding bells,” Lydia singsongs, and Erica snickers.

The way they talk about him makes him… uncomfortable. Something about the way they imply he’s cold and unfeeling is hurtful. Then, to add on the wedding joke. He swallows, his hand curled tightly. He’s never really trusted anyone outside of these six people, and if things are moving too fast with Kira that might not be a good thing. After all, Lydia and Derek have been together for four years and neither of them, as far as he knows, have thought about marriage yet. (He always kind of assumed that it was because Lydia was focusing on school, but now he isn’t sure.) Or maybe that’s how fast normal-paced relationships go, and his is just slow and maybe he’ll lose her.

Allison finally takes pity on him. “Guys, lay off,” she says. Her tone is as soft as usual, but Isaac thinks he hears an underlying bite to it. “He’s clearly freaking out and you’re all making it worse.”

Each other table member ducks their head and mutters a half-apology, but Isaac’s mind is on Kira. “It’s alright,” he mumbles. “Excuse me.” Then he stands and heads for the front door.

–

Knocking. He isn’t even thinking about it when he doesn’t, and still isn’t thinking about it when a neighbor comes out and shushes him. He doesn’t think about it until the door opens, and Kira has her hair up in a bun and sweatpants on that he realizes it’s 2 AM. She immediately looks down at her attire, embarrassed, and looks back up when she asks “Isaac? What are you doing here?”

 “Uh,” he says, but is interrupted by a voice from within her apartment.

“Kira, I swear, if that’s your boyfriend, I’m going to kill him myself!”

He pulls on the neck of his sweater nervously, then asks, “Is there some place we could talk?” He sighs, then amends, “A place where people won’t want to kill me?”

She nods, smiling gently, and takes him by the hand. The place she leads him to looks over the city street, seemingly a folding fire escape with plants adorning the railings. She sits on the edge, lets her petite legs dangle above the busy sidewalk, and watches him fold up his legs to sit next to her.

After a while in silence, Isaac clears his throat. “It’s nice out here,” he says, and she smiles again. They lapse into silence until he asks, “Aren’t you going to ask why I knocked on your door at two in the morning?”

She shrugs. “I wasn’t planning on it, no,” she says calmly. “I was planning on waiting until you were ready to tell me of your own free will.”

They stew in that for a while, until Isaac sighs. “Can you face me?” She nods and turns her body, crossing her legs like his. Eventually, they’re both able to squeeze so that they face each other, and he takes her hands. “Do you think we’re going too slow?” he asks.

Her laugh is breezy and light, always reminiscent to him of wind on a summer day. “No,” she says. “And we’re not going too fast either. We’re going at exactly the right pace for us because that’s the pace we’re going at right now.” That makes sense, he figures,  and he swallows. After a lengthy pause, she takes one of her hands and smooths his mess of curly hair back and away from his eyes. “Is that all?” she asks. She asks softly, as if afraid he might break or become angry with her.

“No, I…” He sighs, takes her hand from her lap in both of his. “It’s just that, I haven’t… dated in a long, long time. Not since high school. And really, I’ve had the same six friends since freshman year of college: Allison, Erica, Scott, Stiles, Derek, and Lydia. So hanging out with you is kind of a crazy thing for me. I’ve never been used to change or going outside my comfort zone, so I’m just… really afraid of losing you.”

He sighs, swallows, then admits:“Nothing has ever scared me more than being with you.”

She smiles, her eyes wet and gleamy, then reaches up to kiss him.

–