"Troubled Ones"?
NICE. A+ choice, anon!
I was never entirely sure how clear I made this in the actual fic, its a delicate little hint, but I think* Jackson and Isaac end up together later. They probably, really, hook up the next morning: Jackson falls asleep there, next to Isaac. They curl up on top of one another the way they used to when they were children, when they were still friends. He supposes they’re not, technically, friends now. Can you be friends with someone you haven’t seen in seven years?
Isaac wakes up first. Luisa is downstairs, making breakfast for Jackson’s parents, washing the cups Jackson and Isaac used last night, dumping out the wet grounds from the coffee machine before brewing another pot. He thinks about moving but doesn’t really know where to go. Doesn’t want to go back across the street. Doesn’t want to go home.
"You’re thinking too loud," Jackson grumbles. He hasn’t even bothered to open his eyes. Isaac blurts out an apology, whiplash quick, and Jackson groans. "Shhhhhhhhut up." He pulls the pillow over both of their heads. "How are you not tired, I am fucking tired." They were probably like this even as kids; Isaac waking up early and playing quietly in Jackson’s room, because he didn’t want to bother anyone, while Jackson lazed around until he damn well felt like getting up.
It’s hotter under the pillow, it’s weirder, even though they were lying close together before. Isaac smells like Armani still, and Jackson like some ridiculous almond hair conditioner Lydia bought him and he’s addicted to. It hits all at once - the way they’re lying together, curled up around each other, how easy it is.
"Hey," Jackson says, quiet, inane, stupid, and he lifts his chin as if to say ‘what of it?’
"Hey," Isaac says back, a whisper, because it feels like a time you should whisper. Hushed and secret. The kiss is soft too, inevitable and comfortable and unhurried.
aaaand they play hooky from school and go to the diner and Jackson orders them pancakes just the way they like, and chocolate milk - Isaac makes a weird little face at him, like it’s that hard to remember how a person likes their pancakes, Christ - and Jackson feels… light.
*’I think’. Like I didn’t write the damn fic. time for sleep
