The fight had started two hours ago, beginning with playful banter and teasing and escalating into a full on screaming match in the McCall's living room. Melissa was working late, thankfully, and Scott had awkwardly left the house, seeking refuge at Stiles' place. You had the house to yourselves, and you weren't taking advantage of it the way you had originally wanted to. Yelling at each other from different rooms instead of falling asleep together on the couch, you furiously began packing your things that usually stayed put in Isaac's room. When you finished, you stormed into the living room, where Isaac was pacing back and forth with a scowl.
"Where are you going?" He demanded, stepping in front of the door and crossing his arms as you rooted through Melissa's bookshelf. You had your own little space at the McCall's, considering you were over there more than you were at your own house, and you had been permitted to keep whatever books you wanted over there.
"I'm not staying here tonight," you replied stiffly, nearly pausing to see his reaction but deciding to just continue doing what you were doing.
"You can't just run away every time we fight, Y/N! That's not how it works!" He yelled, running his hands through his hair in frustration. He loved you to death, even if he hadn't exactly said so yet, but damn it you were so infuriating sometimes it drove him over the edge. "Oh, I'm Y/N, and I walk out the minute my boyfriend and I start fighting because I don't want to actually fix things!" He mimicked childishly just as you found the book you were looking for, meaning you spun around with a brick sized novel in your hands.
"No! I walk away because I don't want to have a fight that gets so bad that it causes us to break up, which you don't seem to get - !" You talked with your hands, it wasn't something you could control, it was a reflex. You hadn't realized that you were doing it when you started shouting at Isaac again, but you were now fully aware that you had done it because the hand with the book was suspended in the air and your other hand was placed on the table and Isaac flinched away from you.
That was when you realized what this looked like. It looked like you were about to throw the heavy book at him, and he flinched because that's what he thought you were about to do, and now you felt fucking awful.
"Isaac, no, you know I would never...I could never..."
"I know that, I know that," he replied quickly, dropping his arm to his side. He had raised it protectively in front of his face. "I know you wouldn't, I swear, I just..." He trailed off, still keeping his distance from you, his features guarded. Suddenly, you were breaking the distance, arms wrapping tightly around his torso and your face buried in the fabric of his sweater. It took him a minute to respond, but when he realized that you were trying to hug him and not squeeze the life out of him, his arms hesitantly wrapping around you, one hand stroking your hair.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Holy shit, I am so, so sorry," you whimpered, clutching his shirt in your hands.
"It's okay, I promise I'm not mad," he said softly, rubbing your back in slow circles. When you pulled your eyes, your eyes were watery and red.
"No, it's not okay," you insisted, "You-you thought...you thought I was going to throw the book at you, that's not okay. I would never ever hurt you, do you understand that? I'd rather die than hurt you, and I'm not exaggerating, either. I don't want you to be scared of me."
"I'm not scared of you," he protested. "I know you wouldn't hurt me. Trust me, I know. But I still get nervous when people yell at me, or hit me, and I still hate small spaces, and I know that you care about me and that you'd never try to hurt me on purpose but I can't help it that I get a little scared sometimes. Don't be upset, you didn't know, okay? I don't talk about it. I'm fine now."
He doesn't say his father's name, but you know exactly what he is talking about. You were his best friend before you fell in love with him, he had told you everything, and it hurt back then when he told you all of this, and it still hurt now when he talked about it.
"I'm sorry," you repeated, pulling him toward the couch and lying down with him. Instead of him holding you like he usually did when you spent the night in his room (actually sleeping, not the other sort of sleeping together), your arms went around him. He had to admit it, he liked the safe feeling of you holding him, the reassurance he felt. The comfort.
"Are you sure you don't want me to hold you, instead?" He asked, closing his eyes as you soothingly ran your hands through his curly hair. You shook your head, even though he couldn't see you.
"No, I like this, this is nice," you murmured. You paused your movements, and he moved his head to look up at you. You had to admire his eyes again, they were wonderful.
"What's up?" He poked your cheek, making you laugh quietly.
"I just...you really flinched, Isaac. I feel awful that you even thought I was going to hit you. I-I would never even think of doing that, I don't even think I'm capable of doing that. I just, I want you to know that. Even if I wind up hating you one day, which I hope doesn't happen, and even if we're fighting and screaming at each other, I will never hurt you." He sat in stunned silence, and can't summon the right words to tell you how much he cares about, how thankful he is for having someone like you in his life. You're already half asleep when he begins to speak, but his words are lost once again when you whisper, "I just love you, I guess."
It's been too long since he's heard those words, since he's been able to say them back to someone without hesitation, but finally, he can. "I love you, too." You smile in your sleep, not realizing that he actually said it back, but he doesn't mind. At long last, his feelings are out there for the world to see, and he's safe and he's happy in your arms.
