keeper (d. Hale)

dirt, petals, leaves.

Home was a complicated topic.

For many it was a physical space. A roof with four walls, two windows and a door, with the most enticing curl of smoke puffing from a sturdy chimney. A warmth radiating from a burning hearth that never falls to beckon visitors to step inside for a respite.  A home is cozy, wonderful and warm. 

For others the concept was much larger than that.

Issac saw a home as a place where he felt safest. 

Home began with his mother before she passed away and Camden died overseas. It stopped the moment his father began to stack the weight of the world's problems on his shoulders and expected Issac to ensure nothing would topple over or become too much.

Too much, that was unfortunately what it all became.

It was all too much when Issac's grades started to slip and the abundance of friends he once held started to dwindle to acquaintances before they became nothing more than familiar faces he passed the hallway crowd.

It was all too much when he wasn't picked for first line by the coach and he was forced to walk home alone after every practice and game.

It was all too much when his father brought home the broken freezer from the scrap yard and made him move it into the basement.

It was all too much. 

His house, the one he had grown up in, was no longer a home. It was now a prison that was meant to keep him contained. With each passing day he could feel the walls creeping closure. They tilted and swayed as they tried to stay up but they always threatened to topple and crush him underneath. It was suffocating and he imagined that the house was just a grave that was pre-constructed by a cruel fate for him.  

Issac spent as much of his time out of the house as he could. It was safer that way and in a way he was right as if he hadn't have told his dad that he would gladly prep the additional plots needed in the graveyard, he wouldn't have meet Derek and Delilah when he needed them the most. He wouldn't have felt the solid hold of Derek's hand as he helped him from the fresh dug grave he found himself trapped with, nor the warm embrace of Delilah's arms as she checked him for injuries.

It has been a long time since he had been held. And he didn't realize how much he crazed the contact until he was allowed to sink fully into it. 

Issac hadn't realized how much he wanted to be allowed to come home. 

Home was now with Derek and Delilah at the Willow residence. 

There he felt he could be truly himself, with out the fear of a physical violence.

The couple never made him feel less than he ever was. They instead did everything in their power take him feel he could thrive and grow into the young man he was today.

With them, Issac felt safe. Issac felt free.

At least that is what he had concluded with his therapist.

Shortly after he was legally allowed to stay with the Hales, Delilah had offered him the option of attending a session, just to try. There weren't any therapists in Beacon Hills but there was one that resided just outside of San Francisco that she though he might like to connect with.

She never forced the idea and let him know that if speaking about some of the things he wanted process were too difficult to do in person, they could start by phone. Issac was skeptical until Derek had admitted he had done it once or twice after Delilah had suggested it might help with his lingering PTSD. He didn't do it consistently but enough that he now didn't panic when Delilah left the room.