~perfect for pictures~ (luka couffaine x reader)

☆ chapter twelve ☆

(ISAAC'S POV)

The walk home was exquisite. The air nipped at my nose ever-so-slightly, but it wasn't unwelcome. The wind practically pulled the door to Y/N's apartment closed for me. Her cat circled around my feet before I could even hang up my coat.

"Hey little dude," I pet Castor's multicolored fur and he nuzzled into my hand a bit. "It's just you and me for a bit. Y/N's at work." I bent down and picked him up. With Castor in my right arm, I hung up my coat and struggled to take off my shoes one-handed. After a minute or so of struggling, I was all set to plop down on the sofa. I pulled a blanket over myself and put Castor on top of it– in my lap. He settled down and I turned on the TV. "This is nice." I spoke to the empty apartment. Perhaps maybe even to Castor.

~three hours later~

(Y/N'S POV)

I unlocked my door and let myself in. The apartment was dimly lit, with only a lamp on. The light from the television filled in some of the shadows of the room, and I didn't hear Isaac.

"Hello?" I peered around the corner. "Isaac, are you–" I saw him. He was cuddled up on the couch, sleeping with Castor in his lap. The very end of Roman Holiday was playing– the scene where Audrey Hepburn leaves Gregory Peck alone to pace the embassy dramatically. Isaac looked unbelievably peaceful, like a picture frozen in time. "God, so predictable." I muttered with a laugh. He rose to consciousness and opened his eyes sleepily.

"What makes you say that?" He yawned.

"Shit, I didn't mean to wake you up," I sat down next to him. "Sorry."

"Nah, I was waiting for you to get home anyway." He messed with his hair as if it had gotten messed up during his nap (which it hadn't). "Why am I predictable?"

"You love your William Wyler movies and it shows." I gestured to the screen. This was true. When we were about thirteen years old, Isaac made me watch every single one of his movies. He invited me over every night and we'd watch all the classics. I never really got as into them as he did, but I loved watching him watch the films. He'd get this goofy grin on his face and mouth all of the lines word for word.

"Tis true." He smiled at me with the same goofy grin. After a few seconds of less-than-awkward staring at one another, he seemed to tap back into reality. "Hey, um... why don't you pick the next movie– I know you're not exactly a Wyler girl."

"That's not true! I loved The Children's Hour. Plus, I mostly just like how happy they make you."

"Really?"

"Really."
"So what do you want to watch? Pick something I haven't seen." Isaac handed me the remote.

"I just do not think that's possible, Ise." I rolled my eyes. There was no way I was finding a new movie to show him. "Let's just go Wes Anderson."

"Ah, ol' reliable." Isaac joked. Wes Anderson movies usually pleased the both of us. I clicked over to The Royal Tenenbaums.

"Sound good?" I turned to him.

"Bless you and your fantastic taste! Of course it sounds good." He opened the blanket for me to get under it, and I obliged.

"Oh, wait–" I hesitated.

"Hmm?" He hummed, watching the TV. The narrator spoke: 'Royal Tenenbaum bought the house on Archer Avenue in the winter of his 35th year...' and Isaac hummed along to the rendition of Hey Jude playing in the background.

"I should probably heat up some dinner." I started to get up reluctantly, but he grabbed my wrist.

"Don't worry about it, I ordered some Chinese. It should be here any minute now, I suppose."