nsfw: scott and isaac hold hands
— @volkolox ꧂
what a pretty picture achilles paints with his butterscotch smile. so warm at the centre, a real melt-in-the-mouth moment, wading through that thick, golden honey gaze of a boy more teenager than monster. it’s a stark contrast to his ice, this ember of a person, but everyone knows that of the two in contact, ice always melts.
consider this: a touch-starved teenage werewolf with a chip on his shoulder and something to prove. he fights for every scrap of attention, and rejoices at even a passing glance his way.
consider this still: a touch-giving teenage werewolf born with a heart so big that loves vomits petals from his chastened tongue. he gives attention freely, unequivocally, unjudgementally.
what else is isaac supposed to do, when faced with someone so opposite? so good? everything his father wished he’d have been and then some? when scott reaches for him, little old him, with freezer burned skin and eyes so cold they manifest snow in california, how is he supposed to respond?
— by linking their fingers, of course, and basking in the warmth he hasn’t felt since he was seven years old and remembered how to breathe.
patroclus is doomed.
