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writing-whump · 10 days

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Could we get a little ficlet or a long fic, I wouldn’t mind either, about how Isaiah feels now that most of the truth is out?

Maybe him angsting over it at home, with Sel and Mat sprinkled in there. Or however else you see this going.

This just had to happen. Very angsty. Thank you for the request!!

Falling apart

Since Isaiah realized what Hector meant, there had been a strange shrieking noise in his ears.

He couldn't fall apart around Hector, of course, the worry for him, the responsibility and regret at that moment were enough to let him focus.

But Isaiah couldn't fall apart during the meeting either. It was a work meeting, so of course he had to push all that back.

He also couldn't afford to fall apart during the car ride. That was dangerous, he could hit somebody.

Everything was too loud and too hazy and he needed to get out of the public, away from the people, into safety.

So he went home.

The sheer relief at closing the door behind him into space that was just his, that he didn't have to hold out or pretend for anyone, where no attacks would be coming, where the world had no right to enter or see him like this...

He looked at himself in the mirror. His suit was straight and nice, his face looked smooth and normal. There was no outward sign. He was okay. He made it home.

Then he remembered he wouldn't be alone for long. He was early today, but Matt and Seline would soon follow...

God, he didn't want them to see him fall apart either.

But there was nowhere to hide, nowhere to go. They shared an apartment, they shared a room with Matthew. He couldn't hide from them, from the world for days at a time to break in peace, like before when he still had his own place.

Maybe he should have left it running. Lease it for empty, for opportunities like this.

But there was no way to keep them from looking for him there either.

Isaiah shook his coat off half-heartedly instead of hanging it up and went to the balcony.

It was a small balcony, but they had a roof apartment, so the view was good. A piece of sky, just for him.

Wolves always craved open spaces in distress. The walls felt suffocating to Isaiah, the warmth, the light, the promise of company.

He should have at least insisted on having a room of his own to get locked in. Maybe he could climb up on the roof to have some privacy? That would still count as if he was home.

He wanted to drown in a river or get stranded in a forest, or jump from the roof. Didn't think those were exactly healthy solutions though. It would upset them.

He sat in the rattan style terrace sofa, looking at the buildings and then higher, to the sky. It was early after sundown, so the colours were still bright purple and dark blue, darkness taking over.

That was when the pain came. Hot and searing, like a blade, cutting through his heart.

He jolted in his seat, hand digging into the armrest. He expected that, braced himself for it, for his heartbeat to suddenly go from imperceptible to painful.

The intensity still suprised him.

There was a wave of relief as the pain subsided and he slumped back, gulping down air.

His stomach twisted into knots, partly from the knowledge the pain would soon return and partly because his digestive system always stopped working when a heart episode hit him like that. He could feel it churning and bloating immediately, refusing to digest the rest of his lunch.

He stayed quietly in that chair, seeing as the night fell on the skyline and the buildings. The pleasant warmth of the spring day retreated to biting cold.

Isaiah liked the cold. It was somehow soothing against the sweat and the waves of heat that came when his heart seized and made a hole in his insides for the fun of it.

He didn't want them to find out. He never meant for them to find out. He didn't want to destroy Hector's ideal, no matter how fictional. He didn't want Arnie to feel left out. He didn't want them to live with the awareness that their father, their flesh and blood could fail so monumentally.

That they had madness running in their family tree.

He also didn't want them to know how much he had failed. How long he believed in his father and listened to him, defended him, loved him and tried to save him. How many things he did that he hated and knew were wrong, felt were wrong, but did them anyway.

In a way there was comfort to the rhythm of the pain. When it came, it took over his mind and senses so much he couldn't think.

His mind went blank and the thoughts stopped eating at him. He looked forward to the shock and blindness as much as he feared it.

"Oi, Zaya? What are you doing there?" Matthew's voice cut through his meditative agony like a falling star.

Matthew shuffled closer, the balcony door shutting behind him. "It's fucking cold here. Can you see the mosquitos? They are having a feast on you, man. Come inside."

Mosquitos? No, he didn't notice. Least of his problems.

If he didn’t say anything, would Matt leave him alone?

No such luck. Matthew came closer instead, crouching down. "Hey. Zaya. Is something wrong?"

Matthew waited for an answer but Isaiah just shook his head, sighing softly. Matt craned his neck up inside, waving at someone, then sat down next to Isaiah on the rattan sofa.

He put his hand on Isaiah's forearm, stretched down on the armrest. "Zaya? You are freaking me out. Please talk to me."

The balcony door and the net against the flies went open, Seline joining them on the balcony. "Hi. Are we having dinner outside? It's a little dark for that."

She came closer. Isaiah couldn't look at her. He was afraid of what she would see.

The blade cut into him then with a new force and he gasped, bowing down.

Matthew's hand was on his shoulder that second, holding him up.

Seline's much smaller delicate hands came to rest on his other arm. "Hey, sweetie. What happened? Can you tell me what happened?"

Isaiah chuckled hysterically, making them both jump at the sound.

"Is he hurt?" Seline said quietly to Matthew who made a helpess shrugging gesture.

"Isaiah." she rubbed his arm, something scared in her tone.

"They know," Isaiah said quietly, feeling like he went mad himself for he was smiling, pressing one palm against his face, covering his left eye. "They know everything. In fucked it up so bad, now they both know."

There was a stunned silence.

"Who knows, sweetie?"

"Hector and Arnie." It was like the seat was shaking underneath him. Why was it shaking? He looked around, letting his hand fall.

"What do they know?" Seline's voice was calmer now, soothing, gentle. Like she was talking to a wounded bird that could fall off the tree if she spoke too loud.

"About father." That's when Isaiah realized it was him who was shaking. Full-bodied terrible shivers all over him, from head to toe like he had a fever.

Matthew's hold on his shoulder tightened.

"What do they know about your father?"

Isaiah's breath hitched, his heartbeat in his ears. "T-they know everything. A-about the training, and what father did to me...how he his shadow went mad and how I had to- I had to challange him, I had to make him step down- but I couldn't- and then I had to leave, I had to-for the pack I had to- but I had to leave them behind- I had-" he broke off with a sob, not sure if he was making any sense.

"And now they know and now you are going to know, and- God, then you will leave me and they will hate me for it, they will know what I did-"

His teeth chattered together, although he wasn't cold, he was boiling, he was cooking in his own skin. Everything was itching and burning and he wanted to scratch it off, get the feeling off and stop feeling it.

"Sweetie, can I touch your face, or will it make it worse?" Seline let go of his arm, hands hovering.

Isaiah nodded to her, not seeing how this could be any worse.

She pushed a strand back from his face and behind his ear, the softest most tentative touch. "Shhhhhhh. It's okay. Let it out. You are okay, you can tell us."

Isaiah let out a dry sob, hands twitching. He felt Matthew reaching over to drape his arm over his shoulders.

"I did- I thought I did the best for the pack- I don't know, I don't know what else I should have done, but it was wrong, it was all wrong! I shouldn't have- I hate that- I don't want to go back there." He looked at her pleadingly, suddenly terrified out of his mind he would have to go back."

"You don't have to go back." Seline stroked his cheek. "You don't."

"I wanted to leave so bad." The admission made something in him crack, he could feel the crack in his chest, making his ears ring. "I couldn't- I couldn't stay there, I couldn't- but I left them all alone, I should have taken them with me, I should have found a way-"

"It wasn't your fault. You had two bad choices and you did the best you could at the time. You didn't want to leave them. They will understand."

"No, they won't! They will hate me for this, just like I hate me for everything- and they will never forgive me, and I left them, do you understand I left them there, for some greater good of the pack nonsense-"

Something hot and wet ran down his cheek. And then another, little hot droplets of pain dripping into his lap. "And you will hate me too, I'm just waiting for you to leave, you should both leave- but I'm so scared of when you will-" The crack was getting bigger, splitting him in half, cutting him open. He looked down at his chest, expecting his organs spilling out by now. The pain would certainly justify it.

He felt Matthew groan like the words hurt him.

Seline took his hand into both of hers, squeezing, gluing herself to his side as the shivers wracked his frame.

Matthew did something similar, tugging Isaish against his side like a pillar made of steel. His hand landed on Isaiah's.

Isaiah was cracking, but they were both pressing against him as if to hold him together with their own bodies.

He felt their warmth, Seline's scent like fresh breeze, Matthew's chest rising and falling next to his.

Two more shudders rocked him, but he felt them dying down, the shaking subsiding. Only his hands were left, trembling.

Isaiah squeezed their hands back, the grip on Matt and Seline somehow anchoring. "I'm so sorry."

"You don't have to apologize-"

"But I'm so sorry," he repeated, needing them to understand. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, sorry, sorry-"

His vision went blurry from the onslaught of tears and he curled into himself, sobbing like a child.

Matthew let go of his hand, which made Isaiah wince, but then his arm came around Isaiah's shoulders, tugging him forward into him.

Isaiah buried his face between Matthew's shoulder and neck, grateful for the cover, for the presence, for the strength. Matthew held him tight, like he was aware Isaiah's ribcage would come flying out if he let go.

Seline wiggled her way under Isaiah's arm, her side against his, her hands wrapped around his middle. Like a warm blanket.

"I miss 'em so much," he wailed quietly into Matthew's shirt while wetting it with tears.

Seline's head came to rest over his heart, holding him snuggly.

They didn't leave.

They stayed like that, in that cold, mosquitos ramming into them.

Isaiah wasn't sure how they were puzzled together anymore. It was a mix of limbs and breaths.

A cocoon of warmth and beating hearts.

#sickfic #angst #crying #chest pain #heart pain #hurt/comfort #whump #whump writing #my writing #werewolf wip

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