Basorexia

Isaac coughed, waving a hand to bat away the dust motes dancing in the air. If he knew he'd spend most of the night breathing in dust, he wouldn't have bothered going through all this stuff. He had to do it eventually, he knew, but he couldn't drum up any shred of enthusiasm. He knew he should've paid someone to deal with this for him. It wasn't like he was low on money. Sniffing, he popped the other side of the taped box and looked into it, moving a few yellowed and weathered newspapers aside.

"Uhh…hmm…I think this is my mom's silver," Isaac announced, lifting an oddly shaped object out of the box. He carefully unwrapped…something. A candlestick holder? He wasn't sure. He'd never seen one in his life before. Hell, this was the first time he'd seen his mom's silver. Camden had always made comments about it, something about not knowing who to pass it down to if she didn't have a daughter. His mouth twisted to the side as he turned it this way and that.

"Do you want to keep it?" Glancing over his shoulder, he watched as Melanie untucked her legs from beneath her and unfurled from being curled into the corner of the couch. She twisted a pen between her fingers, the ends tapping the notebook on her lap in quick succession.

"No, I don't think so," he said. He wrapped the holder up and put it back in the box. "I don't know what I'd do with it." Leaning back, he eased off his knees and sat at the base of the couch. Draping an arm against the cushions, he twisted around. "Do you want it? You could use it for your Halloween parties."

A sparkle appeared in her eye but a second later she made a face and shook her head. "It's yours. I wouldn't feel right using it for some party."

"At least it'd be used. What the hell am I going to do with silver?"

"Scoop up a few rogue werewolves and bop 'em on the head?"

She dissolved into a round of giggles so contagious that his mouth lifted in a half smile and he chuckled as well. Not at the joke, it was terrible, but at how much she seemed to amuse herself. He leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes, taking in her laughter. He knew right then and there she was the best person to ask for help with this. Otherwise he wouldn't have been able to even look at the boxes let alone go through them.

Speaking of boxes… His eyes fluttered open and he took in the plethora of boxes stacked nearby that they still had to go through. Some were labeled, some used to be labeled with the words crossed out, and some looking as if they'd seen better days. That's what happens when you try to cram three people's belongings into minimal space, he guessed.

"It was nice of Derek to let us use his old place for this stuff," Melanie said.

Isaac didn't miss the use of the word us. His twisting stomach and the warmth that spread through him didn't miss it either. It could have been a very innocent word choice but, well, he didn't want to settle for that. Reaching out, sparks shot at the tips of his fingers when they brushed against the smooth stretch of skin on her calf. "What else was he going to use this place for?"

"To practice his brooding?"

He snorted. "Nice."

"Maybe he's into real estate." At the incredulous look Isaac threw her way, Melanie shrugged. "Stranger things have happened. Besides, he can't go around being a werewolf babysitter all the time. He has to live his life for himself too."

"Maybe." He rubbed his thumb against her leg, turning his head to hide the smirk that appeared on his face when he felt the muscle twitch beneath her skin. His smile slid off his face as his eyes scanned over the array of boxes.

A groan rumbled in his chest when fingers dug into his hair, nails caressing his scalp before the pads pressed into that one sweet spot behind his right ear, rubbing in small circles. He felt her touch all the way down to the tips of his toes; trickled down his spine and eased his tense muscles. "What're you thinking about?"

"That I don't want to do this."

"We don't have to. We can take a break."

"That's not what I meant." His words slipped out in a dull monotone. His eyes never left the boxes. His family. His entire family all packed into one place, stuffed away and pushed aside. Gathering dust, frozen in time. The lump in his throat broke up when he swallowed and eased out a breath. "What'd you keep from Erica?"

"Ah." The couch dipped behind his back. He broke off his stare as Melanie settled next to him on the floor. Her hand dropped from his hair to lay on his shoulder, her arm curling around his neck, cradling the base. Leaning over she pressed her forehead against his cheek. He breathed in deep, taking in the clashing scent of her fruity shampoo and sweet body wash. "Not much, honestly. Pictures, some notes, a few bits of jewelry. I kinda figured anything else would just make me feel like I'm drowning in her stuff." Her sigh ghosted across his skin, sending chills down his spine. "And…she wouldn't be there to save me."

"Yeah. I get that." His body, weary and heavy, rested against hers. She lifted her head, nuzzling her nose against his cheek. He dropped his hand atop of her knee, giving it a squeeze. "I just…I didn't know my mom. And I sure as hell didn't know my dad so…" He brushed the back of his hand by his nose and cleared his throat. "I think this is all I need." He patted at his chest; the cool metal of his brother's dog tags seeped into his skin.

Melanie tossed away the notebook. She pinched the chain around his neck, lifting it from beneath his shirt. He watched as her nimble fingers slid the tags along the chain, placing the clasp at the back of his neck. Her fingers caressed his hair at the nape. "Looks good on you too."

"Sorry to waste your time."

"Any time with you s'not wasted."

He half expected her to add something like "I would've done it for anyone". And she probably would have, but right now she was here. With him. Going through boxes of his old life that felt like some sort of dream or misplaced memory.

Her face turned up towards his, like a flower opening to rays of sun. His heartbeat slowed. Once upon a time she brought out the uneasiness in him, the anticipation and questioning that came with every glance, every hug, every touch. But now his mind eased, and contentment wormed its way through him; a simmering constant anchoring him in place as the world battered him around.

He dug his fingers into her hair, following the flow of the strands until he bunched the ends of the shafts around his fingers, pulling her mouth to his. A flame burst within him;; sparks popping and jumping with every eager meld of their lips.

A tidal wave of warmth crashed through him; like hot chocolate on a cold day, like a blanket fresh from the dryer, like the first few shafts of sun peeking out after a summer shower. If it was love, he wanted to drown in it.