No Luck

Can We Pretend We Aren't Awkward

A secret life and place where we hide

It feels right

I'll settle on the dust, settle on the dust

But I've got better luck in my head

We're just ghosts inside my bed

- This Side Of Paradise, Hayley Kiyoko

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Scott pulls the joint from his lips, sighing lowly. His shoulders slump considerably and his eyes close. Isaac feels like he's intruding on a person moment. He fiddles with his hands in his lap, trying not to disturb Scott who invited him up here in the first place.

Aren't they suppose to talk? Isaac isn't good at talking, as talking like a normal human includes not stuttering out awkward word vomit.

"This is nice. Isn't it?" Scott asks. He turns his head to Isaac, casually blowing a line of smoke out of his lips. He nods timidly. Isaac tries to look at the stars, tries to take in the view of Beacon Hills from atop some college guy's smelly apartment.

Though, within the first five minutes of trying to enjoy the night sky, his attention drifts to Scott. Again, Isaac thought about how the boy looks like a puppy. Slightly uneven jaw, lips twisting up as if he's about to growl when he's annoyed, and brown eyes that remind him of Lydia's dog, Prada, when she wants a treat.

"What?"

Isaac blinks, suddenly realizing he'd been staring. He stumbles and stutters out random words, trying to justify himself. Scott smirks, torturing Isaac with his pointed look. He puts out the joint, even though Stiles is going to kill him for taking it and then wasting most of it. Oh well.

"I wasn't- I mean- I... Has anyone ever told you that you look like a puppy?" Isaac questions. "A puppy?" Scott asks, reaching up to rub at his neck questionably. He arches an eyebrow at Isaac. "A very sexy puppy." The blonde confirms. At this point, his face feels like an inferno.

A very sexy puppy? What is that? What. The. Hell. Is. That? Yep. Shoot him now. Lock him up in a dungeon or something and have a troll - if werewolves are real, than trolls can be too - slowly kill him with bad music and Legos, the evilest of toys.

He still has a mark from when he stepped on one when he was 10. Legos are evil, but he's getting off point. The point here, is that he's saying stupid shit in front of Scott, who probably already thinks he got hit one too many times in the head.

Scott's whole face scrunches up, and then falls into a grin all at once. Isaac has the urge to reach out an pinch his nose playfully, but that would make this whole situation weirder. "You think I'm sexy?" Scott's voice is incredibly smug.

He's Scott, so of course that's all he gets from this conversation. "You're alright." Isaac shrugs, suddenly finding his 'cool'. He can do this. Someone will come find them and break this awkwardness he's feeling, he just needs to stay cool for a few minutes.

Scott stands, moving away from the edge. He stretches, his shirt riding up and revealing a slightly trimmed happy trail. Isaac nearly falls off the roof.

Warning: 'Cool' has left the building.

Scott sits down again, hugging his knees to his chest. He shivers. "Cold?" Isaac asks. Scott nods, his chin hitting his knees as he does so. Isaac gets up and sits next to him. He takes the scarf off his own neck and wraps it around Scott's.