█ ▌┋ 「♙」` [ vampcircles ]
it's in the way he stands -- the way he never smiles -- the way his shoulders seem to be perpetually caved in on themselves... it's a barring to all forms of human conversation -- a solemnity that bars the exchange of friendly expressions, and even friendlier words. isaac wears his scars like a knight wears armor ; in plain sight. and to some, it's disturbing ( scratch: always ). most people find it unsettling that he'd been arrested for the murder of his father ( despite all charges being dropped -- his innocence proven ). most people find it disturbing that he's now the sole heir of beacon hills' local graveyard -- a graveyard that houses his entire family, and more recently, his two best friends ( who died in a car accident -- running away together ).
it's in the way he stands -- the way he never smiles -- the way his shoulders seem to be perpetually caved in on themselves. this is a boy who has been forced to become a man. a man who is utterly alone.
-- that is, except for the small girl with sad brown eyes who seems to frequent his graveyard. the girl who has also experienced death in an abundance. the girl who isn't terrified by the wilting willow tree, or the dark orange leaves scattered across unmarked graves.
he's seen the way she always makes a beeline towards an old sycamore tree in the far corner. he's seen her settle in front of the same tomb stone every single time, a diary in her lap, totally at peace.
-- he gets it.
which is why he never questions her presence -- why he never approaches her, and carries on with his own business, making sure nobody else disturbs her quiet bubble of mourning as they meander through the cemetery.
and he has no intention of ever meeting her, or introducing himself. because what kind of a person wants to meet someone at a graveyard?
the choice is taken away from him when he runs headlong into her one shady afternoon, the impact causing him to drop the bag of compost resting over his shoulder. and holy hell, she's right there. isaac can't help but gawk.
⊰ ☾ ⊱ ❛ are you-- are you okay? ❜
he isn't surprised when his words fail to connect naturally. they never have in the past. why would they start now? bending down to pick up the bag, he sighs when he realizes it's split down the side, dirt spilling onto his once-perfectly swept pathway. typical.
❛ --wheelbarrow. god, i mean-- i swear i can talk. i just don't. i'm-- yeah, i'm gonna go now. before i make you even more uncomfortable. ❜
