Prompt: It's the anniversary of his dad's death and Isaac thinks no one remembered… He's wrong. Erisaac.

Word Count: 602

Notes: References to suicide and abuse.

Isaac's dad wasn't a good person, had never been a good person, would never be a good person. You know, since he's dead and all.

And yeah, his dad used to beat the shit out of him. Maybe his dad did drive Cam to commit suicide, and maybe he killed his mom, too. (His memories of that night are kind of fuzzy when he thinks of it. He'd been young, scared and confused. It's difficult to think about, though, so usually, he doesn't.)

All of that might be true.

But the thing is…it's still his dad in the ground. Even a shitty dad feels better than no dad, no family.
He's not mad at Jackson, either. Things had been completely out of his control, and it's not like Isaac could argue that his dad deserved to live, so…he won't. Actually, he feels pretty good about it, most days.

That means he's selfish, right?

Who gives a shit?

Still. Still. Days like today are complicated because he's sad, angry, disappointed, grateful, relieved, and happy all at once. It's exhausting, but it's better than the alternative, he usually decides.

The alternative, of course, being his dad still beating him.

It's been five years since his dad made him bleed. (Five years since his dad cooked him dinner.)

Classes don't sound very appealing right now. Food sounds worse. He thinks about how Stiles spends the anniversary of his mother's death (sleeping; pretending nothing's wrong; crying at her grave; steeling himself before he sees his dad again) or how Derek spends his (alone; angry). Neither of those options sound any worse than he feels.

How do normal people move on from this?

He pulls the pillow over his head and curls up tighter. His roommate has already gone off to class. So far, Isaac has only gotten out of bed to close the curtains and turn off the air conditioning. He wants to sweat in the darkness under three comforters, and that's what he's going to do.

Outside, he hears someone sliding a key into the lock. It smells like Erica. He doesn't move from his nest, figuring if she managed to get a copy of the key, she can let herself in.

The door opens and then shuts. "Hey," Erica says, slipping between the sheets next to him. "Sleep okay?"

Erica never asks him how he's doing or if he's okay. Of the entire pack, he thinks Derek is the only one who understands better than her that Isaac isn't okay and will never be okay. That's mostly because Derek feels the same. Erica just wants to be there for him, which means more, at the end of the day.

"Yeah," he says, rolling over to loop an arm around her waist. "Yeah."

"What do you want to do today?" she asks.

"Burn his house down," he says quietly. "Build him a memorial."

She moves around until her face is tucked into his chest and then hums against his collarbone. "Both? Or neither?"

"Neither," he admits, and squeezes his eyes shut tightly.

"Let's just stay here," she suggests.

"Yeah," he says. "Who cares about class?"

"Losers and nerds," she says.

She doesn't ask him to talk and he doesn't do it. They just stay…quiet…warm…calm.

And things still don't make sense with his dad, but when Erica kicks off the comforters because it's too hot, he doesn't stop her. She's warm. She's something to hold on to.

He's not confused about that. Erica is just good. He's not happy, at least not wholly, but he's not alone and that's more than he could have hoped for.

A/N: forever my headcannon that Mr. Lahey killed his wife uwu. Originally posted on my writing tumblr, neverendingpaintrain. Follow and prompt me yo (also i literally follow everyone back there.)

Disclaimer: if i call someone a nerd i mean it really affectionately okay. i love nerds. Also i don't own teen wolf obvs