you're still here? // isaacwhy x reader
A/N: no note, enjoy short n sweet :)
βββββ
The call had started like every other one. Background noise. Half attention on your end. Isaac muttering about editing something while you folded laundry on your bed, phone propped against a pillow.
Neither of you had anything important to say, you just liked existing in the same space, even if it was through a screen.
βYouβre gonna fall asleep,β he says at some point, not even looking at the camera. You had finished folding laundry a while ago, now underneath warm and clean blankets tucked all the at up to your chin.
βI am not,β you mumble, already blinking slower. βIβm listening.β
βYou said βmhmβ to something I didnβt even say.β Isaac snorts.
βDid too.β You retorted sleepily.
βName one thing I just said.β
ββ¦youβre editing.β
He snorts. βYeah. That was ten minutes ago.β
You try to argue, but the words melt into a yawn, and then into silence. Your cheek presses into your pillow, the dim light from your room washing everything soft and warm.
His voice becomes background noise comfortable, steady, safe. His occasional little note to himself out loud about what he was editing.
You donβt remember falling asleep.
ββββ
When you wake up, your room is darker.
Your phone is still where you left it, screen dimmed but not off. The call timer is still going.
And Isaac is still there.
Headphones on. Hoodie pulled up. Eyes flicking between his monitor and the tiny square of your sleeping face.
He doesnβt notice youβre awake yet.. just keeps clicking, scrubbing through footage, occasionally glancing back at you like heβs checking something.
Like heβs making sure youβre still there.
βIsaac?β Your voice is rough with sleep.
He startles immediately, looking at the screen. βOhβ¦ youβre up.β
You push yourself upright, heart doing something weird and warm in your chest. βYou stayed?β
It comes out softer than you meant it to.
He shrugs, like itβs obvious. βYeah.β
βFor how long?β You asked sleepily.
βSince you knocked out.β
βI was asleep for likeβ¦ hours.β
βYeah.β
You stare at him. βWhy didnβt you hang up?β
He hesitates. Not long, just enough to feel real.
Then he leans back in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck. βI dunno. You looked comfortable.β
βThatβs not a reason.β
βIt is a reason.β
βIsaac.β
He sighs, eyes flicking away from the camera. βI didnβt wanna wake you.β
Your chest tightens.
βYou couldβve just ended the call.β
βYeah,β he says again, quieter this time. βCouldβve.β
Silence settles, but itβs not awkward. Itβs the kind that hums: full, heavy, honest.
He finally meets your eyes through the screen.
βI like being on call with you,β he admits, voice casual in a way that sounds practiced. βEven if weβre not talking.β
Your fingers tighten around your blanket. βEven when Iβm literally unconscious?β
He huffs a laugh. βEspecially then. Youβre not roasting me or distracting me. Peak productivity.β
You roll your eyes, but youβre smiling. βShut up.β
βMake me.β
You both fall quiet again, and this time neither of you looks away.
He glances at the clock on his monitor. βYou should probably go back to sleep.β
βYou first.β
βI wasnβt asleep.β
βYouβre still tired.β
βIβm always tired.β
βIsaac.β
He studies you for a second, like heβs debating something. Then his voice softens.
βStay on call?β
Your heart trips.
βYeah,β you say, barely above a whisper. βOkay.β
You settle back into your pillow. He turns down his mic volume, the clicking of his keyboard fading into something distant and rhythmic. Not annoying. Just there.
Comforting.
You close your eyes again, but this time youβre aware of him. The quiet breathing. The occasional shift of his chair. The way he checks the screen every few minutes.
Like heβs making sure youβre still safe. Still there.
Right before you drift off again, you hear him mumble, so quiet you almost think you imagined it:
βNight.β
Your lips curve into your pillow.
βNight, Isaac.β
And the call stays on.
