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Stiles gets the letter toward the end of their senior year and Isaac’s there with him, watching as the other boy opens the letter. His heart drops into the pit of his stomach when Stiles tells him he’s got a full scholarship to the school of his dreams: Columbia University.
Which is nearly three thousand miles away from Beacon Hills.
They celebrate and Isaac is happy for Stiles, really, because he knows how important it is for his best friend to go to a good school. He can’t help but wonder what’s going to happen to them with Stiles so far away, but he doesn’t think about that….
Not until the day comes for Stiles to leave.
That day is hell for Isaac and he hugs Stiles a dozen times, not letting to until the very last minute, when Sheriff Stilinski tells them it’s time to go. He watches the cruiser pull out of the driveway and waits until it’s out of his line of sight to start crying.
*
Now, a year later, Isaac is going to community college to become a vet tech while he works at the local animal clinic. Everyone said, after graduation, that Isaac could have gone wherever he wanted because he was smart — but he knows that’s not true. He’s broke and barely scraping by with the money he earns working at the clinic, he can’t afford to go anywhere else but community college.
Plus, Isaac knows he’s not as smart as Stiles because everyone compares the two of them. He can’t go a day without having someone talk about Stiles and how he’s doing at Columbia.
“Stiles is a psychology major,” Scott says one time, when they’re walking out of their English class, and Isaac winces. He knows there’s a comparison underneath those words but Scott is too nice to come right out and say it. So Isaac nods, says nothing, and continues to walk to the bike rack.
When Isaac gets home (which is the Stilinski house, like it has been since he was sixteen) and checks the mail. He quirks a brow when he sees a letter from Stiles, addressed to him, and takes it upstairs to his room. Once in there, Isaac drops his bag to the floor and goes to lay on the middle of his bed, tearing the envelope open carefully.
A collection of plane tickets fall out onto Isaac’s chest and he picks them up, reading his name on each of them. One is going from Beacon Hills to Reno and he scrambles to get the rest of them, reading them in order. When he realizes where they end up, he scrambles off the bed and grabs his phone, dialing Stiles’ number.
Stiles answers on the fourth ring.
“Hey, Isaac,” he says and laughs, the sound warm and familiar. “What’s up?”
“I just got your letter.”
“Oh. Wow, that was fast.” Stiles pauses to chuckle before adding, “So, what do you think?”
Isaac takes a deep breath. “I think it’s awesome, Stiles, but you — how did you afford to buy me plane tickets from here to New York?”
“I got a job and, well, I’ve been saving up.” There’s another pause and Isaac can hear people talking in the background before Stiles comes back. “I know you can’t afford to come out here on your own and we haven’t seen each other in a year, so… call it an early Christmas present.”
“You know I’m going to pay you back for this, right?” Isaac asks, his heart hammering in his chest when he realizes he’s going to see Stiles in a matter of days.
There’s a snort on the other line and Isaac smiles. “Dude, no, you aren’t going to pay me back for anything. It’s a gift, Isaac, and I really want to see you so you’d better be on that plane,” Stiles answers.
“But it’s in…” Trailing off, Isaac looks at the date on the first ticket, his eyes going wide. “In three days! You could have given me some warning,” he mumbles.
“Calm down, you’ll make it out here in time. Just borrow a suitcase from my dad, pack your warmest clothes, and get your ass here.”
“Warm clothes?” Isaac asks, his eyebrows pulling together.
Stiles laughs and Isaac can picturing him nodding. “Yeah, it’s supposed to snow here soon. You do have warm clothes, right?”
“Yeah, I’ve got a few,” comes Isaac’s reply and he moves around the room, tucking the tickets somewhere safe. “So, I’ll see you in three days, then?”
“Definitely. I’ll be there to pick you up. Hope you don’t mind riding in a taxi,” Stiles answers before he’s gone again, yelling something at someone. He comes back and huffs, “I’ve gotta go. Let me know when you get to the airport on Monday morning, yeah?”
Isaac licks his lip and nods. “Yeah, I will. See you then.”
They hang up and Isaac’s heart won’t stop pounding. He looks at where he put the tickets, smiles, and goes back downstairs to check the rest of the mail. There’s stuff for the sheriff and some junk mail for Stiles but, underneath all of those, is a letter from Isaac’s dad.
He stares at the envelope and takes it upstairs, stuffing it into a shoe box where he keeps the rest of them. All of the letters are unopened and Isaac doesn’t know why he keeps all of them instead of throwing them away, figuring that one day he’ll open them all, just to see what his dad wants.
After putting the box away, Isaac lays on his bed and reads a book, anxiously waiting for the sheriff to get home so he can ask about borrowing a suitcase.
*
Three days later, after several exhausting flights, Isaac lands in New York and he walks through the airport, bumping into people on his way to baggage claim. Everything is so big and he doesn’t have time to take it all in before getting to the escalators. As he goes down the lower level, Isaac’s heart pounds and his hands shake with nerves, his anxiety through the roof.
Even though they Skype regularly, Isaac is excited and nervous to finally be able to see Stiles in person. He knows the other boy has changed — grown his hair out, got glasses, and became a thousand times more attractive — and Isaac himself hasn’t changed much.
Isaac steps off the escalator and follows the signs pointing to baggage claim, getting to the right one. He stands among the people that were on his flight and yawns, wobbling on his feet as he waits for his luggage. It passes by him and he grabs both bags, slinging the duffle bag over his shoulder, setting the rolling suitcase on the floor.
As he walks away from baggage claim, Isaac feels his phone buzz in his pocket and he stops to grab it, reading Stiles’ message. It says he’s standing outside, waiting, and that Isaac will know it’s him immediately.
Rolling his eyes, Isaac puts his phone away and walks to the exit, stepping out into the brisk cold. He shivers, wishing he had brought a warmer hoodie other than his Beacon Hills Lacrosse one, and looks around.
Isaac looks to his right and smirks when he sees Stiles standing a few yards away, waving a sign that said “Isaac Lahey smells”. He shakes his head and walks over to Stiles, the suitcase trailing behind him.
“I smell after being on all of those planes,” he says and lets out a surprised noise when Stiles drops the sign, wrapping both arms around his neck.
Stiles holds onto Isaac tightly and smiles. “I missed you,” he mumbles before pulling away, his eyes shining as he looks up at the taller boy. “But we’ll talk about that more when we’ve gotten you into a warm cab, huh?”
All Isaac can do is nod and stare at Stiles. The other boy grew another inch but Isaac was still taller than him by a couple. He smiles and watches Stiles adjust the purple beanie on his head before waving his hand and stepping forward, whistling.
It takes a moment for a cab to stop and, once it does, Stiles tells the diver to pop the trunk and he helps Isaac put his things inside. He shuts the trunk and opens the back door for Isaac, smiling as he motions for the other boy to get inside. Once he is, Stiles climbs in behind him and gives his address to the driver.
“You look good,” Isaac says, moving a hand to touch the beanie on Stiles’ head, grinning. “Who knew you going to Columbia would turn you into a hipster?”
Stiles mock-laughs and slaps Isaac’s hand away, playfully. “It’s cold as fuck here, if you haven’t noticed, and this beanie looks fantastic on me, don’t hate.”
“Cocky as ever, I see.” Smiling, Isaac leans his head against Stiles’ and nuzzles him, causing the hat to shift. “I’m really tired,” he mumbles.
“I know. My roommate’s out of town for winter break, so I have the whole apartment to myself. You can sleep when we get there.” Stiles’ voice is warm and soft and it almost puts Isaac to sleep. When he feels a hand in his hair, however, he does doze off and doesn’t wake up until nearly half an hour later, when Stiles is telling him to get up.
When they get to Stiles’ place, Isaac follows him up the stairs and nearly trips over all of them, blushing when Stiles laughs at him. He feels a hand on his arm, one meant to steady him, and that keeps Isaac from falling up the last flight of stairs.
At the top, Stiles leads Isaac down a hallway and opens a door, pushing it open before going inside. “Sorry about the stairs — the elevator’s being worked on,” he mumbles before unbuttoning his coat, peeling it back to show off another layer. Which just so happens to be his lacrosse hoodie.
“S’okay,” Isaac replies and smiles, shutting the door before toeing out of his shoes, moving them so they’re in a line along with the others along the wall beside the door. “We’re matching.”
“Huh.” Smirking, Stiles nods and runs a hand over Isaac’s stomach, touching the numbers. “Imagine that,” he says and drops his hand, Isaac’s entire face heating up because that wasn’t normal. Not even for him and Stiles, who always act more like a couple than best friends, but Isaac shakes those thoughts off.
Once they’re both out of their jackets, Isaac follows Stiles down the hallway and to his room. Which is clean, the walls painted a neutral colour, and posters hanging up. There’s a desk in the corner with Stiles’ laptop sitting on it, surrounded by books and empty cans on Monster.
“Oh.” Stiles laughs and goes to clean up the empty cans. “I need a lot of energy to stay up and study. Columbia kicks your ass sometimes. With their academics, I mean,” he says and shrugs, dumping the dozen or so cans into the trash can.
“Uh-huh…” Isaac yawns and runs a hand through his hair. Stiles’ bed is empty — and big — so he goes over to lay on it, stretching out along the middle. “I’m gonna sleep now. But… what are we doing later?”
Stiles joins him on the bed and sits next to him, smiling. “I was going to introduce you to some of my friends and take you out to dinner,” he answers and shifts so he’s laying beside Isaac. “Go to sleep.”
“You going to sleep, too?”
“I might. I have an alarm set on my phone, just in case.”
Isaac takes a deep breath and nods, closing his eyes. He wraps an arm around Stiles and holds him close, humming at the feeling of a hand on his chest. Stiles’ fingers are moving in slow circles, drawing shapes on the front of his t-shirt, and Isaac falls asleep quickly.
But he doesn’t stay that way for long. He jerks awake a few hours later, in the middle of a nightmare, right when his dad comes down on him with a knife, and he whimpers loudly.
“Isaac?” Stiles asks, his voice dripping with concern. “Hey, shh, no. It’s okay, Isaac, see? It’s just me and you, no one else.”
Suddenly, Stiles’ hands are on his face and Isaac swallows, lifting his own to cup over the backs of the other boy’s. He takes a deep breath and calms down, listening to Stiles’ voice as he tells him it’s all going to be okay.
After a moment, Stiles asks, “What’d you dream about?”
“My dad.” Isaac opens his eyes and looks at Stiles, licking his dry lips before giving him a soft smile. “I only get nightmares after he sends me letters,” he mumbles.
“Dude,” the other boy says, his eyes wide, “that asshole writes you letters? Still?”
Isaac nods his head weakly and lays it back on the pillow. “He writes one almost every two weeks. Sometimes he goes a month or two without writing anything and I think, finally, someone’s killed him in prison but they keep coming.”
They’re silent for a moment before Stiles pulls Isaac to him, almost tugging the taller boy’s body onto his own, and wraps his arms around Isaac’s shoulders. He runs a hand through the other boy’s hair and hums to him, not saying a word but that’s alright — the quiet helps.
After a while, Isaac fits his body on top of Stiles’ and ducks his head, tucking it underneath his friend’s chin. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles.
“What are you sorry for?”
“I haven’t even been here a day and I’m ruining things.” Isaac sniffles and swallows, nuzzling against Stiles’ chest.
Stiles takes a deep breath and exhales sharply. “That isn’t something you need to apologize for. It’s only been three years, Isaac, and I know that the wounds are still fresh in your mind. Your dad — he tried to kill you, Isaac, and that’s not something you bounce back from quickly. Sometimes not at all,” he whispers.
“When’d you get so smart?”
“Mmm… I’m not sure, but I do know that things will get better. He’ll lose your address and you’ll stop getting letters from him. Then you’ll be able to move on and be happy.”
The thought of never getting another letter from his dad makes Isaac stupidly excited but he’s still afraid. He’s scared of his dad getting out of prison somehow, making an agreement or even somehow getting parole, and his chest tightens.
A long, silent moment passes before Isaac asks: “Can we hang out alone tonight?”
“Yeah, sure,” Stiles answers and smiles, moving a hand through Isaac’s curls before the taller boy rolls them over onto their sides. A squeak leaves Stiles’ throat and he laughs, leaning his forehead against Isaac’s. “It’s supposed to snow tonight. The weatherman said it wasn’t supposed to happen until the middle of the week but…”
“They’re a bunch of liars,” Isaac mumbles and laughs. “You know I’ve never seen snow before.”
Stiles nods his head and closes his eyes. “I hadn’t, either, not until I got here and the first time it snowed I freaked out. My roommate laughed at me and said he could tell I was a Californian.”
“What’s snow like?”
“Cold and wet but beautiful, especially up here. The buildings get covered in it and it makes things, like, a hundred times more gorgeous,” Stiles answers and hums. “You wanna go out tonight, if it does snow?”
Isaac thinks about that for a moment and nods. “I wanna go back to sleep, though,” he says and lifts his hands up to touch Stiles’ face. “Will you stay?”
“Of course.”
With that, they curl up against one another and Isaac wraps his arms around Stiles, holding him close. He falls asleep quickly and stays that way until he hears something beeping. Groaning, he rolls away from the noise and hits the wall, awaking with a frustrated sigh.
Someone laughs beside him and Isaac rolls over onto his back, blinking as he turns his head to look at Stiles. “What’re you laughin’ at?”
“You,” Stiles answers, motioning to the wall, “hitting your face.”
“S’not funny,” Isaac mumbles and yawns, stretching a little. He moans when his joints pop and sits up, rolling his neck. “What time’s it?”
The other boy looks at his phone and then back up at Isaac. “Eight.”
“In the morning?!”
“Evening.” Smiling, Stiles moves off the bed and goes over to the window, pushing the curtains back. He looks out and down to the street, where snow is covering the sidewalk. Snowflakes are still coming down from the sky and he turns to Isaac, grinning. “It’s snowing,” he says.
Isaac yawns loudly and scoots to the edge of the bed before standing, going to join Stiles at the window. He breathes in slowly through his nose and looks at the snowflakes falling in front of the windowpane, smiling.
“Change into something warm and we’ll go for a walk. Maybe go get some coffee from the cafe around the corner,” Stiles says and turns, patting Isaac’s arm.
Once Stiles is gone and moving to the closet, Isaac goes outside and into the hall, going back to where they left his bags in the living room. He opens one and pulls out a pair of tight jeans, a t-shirt, a long-sleeve thermal, and a coat that he’d gotten from Allison the Christmas before.
Isaac moves down the hallway and steps into Stiles’ room again, stopping dead in his tracks when he sees his best friend is naked. Or, well, nearly naked. He swallows and knocks on the door, blushing hard when Stiles turns around.
“Sorry, I don’t… know where the bathroom is,” he mumbles.
“Oh.” Stiles laughs and comes to the door, leaning over the frame, giving Isaac perfect view of his shoulder — and the tattoo on it. “It’s right there,” he says, pointing to a door down the hall.
When Stiles speaks, Isaac nods and follows his directions, stepping into the bathroom quickly. He undresses and changes as fast as he can, looking at himself in the mirror before running his fingers through his hair, trying to tame the curls.
Giving up, Isaac moves out of the bathroom and takes his pile of dirty clothes into Stiles’ room, dumping them onto the floor. He looks up at his friend and bites his lip at what Stiles is wearing: a pair of tight, black jeans, Doc Martens, a dark blue and black beanie on his head, and a heavy coat over top of what looks to be an Offspring t-shirt.
“Ready?” Stiles asks, smiling as he buttons his coat.
Isaac licks his lips and nods. “Gotta put my shoes on,” he says and walks back into the living room, going to the door to put his shoes on. He bends over to tie them and straightens up when he hears Stiles come into the room.
“Did I tell you that I missed you? Like, a lot.”
“I missed you too,” Isaac replies and smiles brightly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He quirks a brow when Stiles hands him a pair of black gloves. “Oh, uh, thanks.” Laughing quietly, he takes the gloves and puts them on, looking up at Stiles the moment he produces a dark beanie from his pocket.
Stiles grins and holds it out before putting it on Isaac’s head. “You have to protect those gorgeous curls from the cold,” he mumbles and stuffs his hands into his pockets as he steps back. “God, you look gorgeous”
“So do you.” The words come out before Isaac can stop them and he blushes, moving to open the door before stepping out into the hall. He watches Stiles come out and waits for him to lock the door before they head down to the stairs.
It takes them a few minutes to get down to the lower level and, once they get to the door, Stiles slides his hand into Isaac’s. It’s an innocent move, at least it seems like that, but it has Isaac’s heart hammering in his chest. All he can do is squeeze Stiles’ hand and lace their fingers as they walk out into the snow.
And snow… is the most gorgeous thing, other than Stiles, that Isaac has ever seen in his life. The world outside is dark but streetlights illuminate everything as snowflakes fall down from the sky. He tilts his head up and feels a few flakes fall onto his face, laughing.
“You are so fucking cute,” Stiles murmurs and laughs, pulling Isaac down the sidewalk. Snow cakes against the bottom of their shoes but Isaac doesn’t mind, just keeps looking around at all the cars and buildings, watching snow fall onto them.
They stop at a coffee shop and Stiles watches Isaac in awe, squeezing his hand lightly. When the other boy turns to look down at him, Stiles smiles and says, “I’ve had the biggest crush on you since junior year.”
Isaac’s heart skips a beat when he hears that and he swallows. “Are you serious?”
“Yep. I wanted to ask you to senior prom but Erica beat me to it.”
“I wish you would have,” Isaac murmurs and moves closer, wrapping his hand around Stiles’ hip. “I would have said yes.’
The other boy’s eyes go wide as he mumbles, “I got jealous.”
“And I got jealous when you went with Scott.”
“That was just a bro thing,” Stiles mumbles and moves his hand away from Isaac’s, wrapping both arms around his neck. “I only let Scott get to first base with me — but you could have gone all the way to third.”
“So things were awkward for you, after I moved in?” Isaac asks, wrapping his own arms around Stiles’ waist.
Shrugging, Stiles smiles and stands on his tiptoes. “Not really. I just had to be a little more careful,” he answers.
“With?”
“Being naked and jerking off. Watching you when you’d do things, like clean your room or cook dinner.”
“Huh.” Isaac laughs and licks his lips, watching as snowflakes fall onto Stiles’ cheeks. “I always looked at you. Your dad caught me a few times and I thought he’d kick me out for staring but.. he just smiled at me.”
Stiles bites his lip and laughs. “I told dad I was in love with you on the way to the airport and he asked why I didn’t say anything,” he says and pauses, clearing his throat. “I said it was because I didn’t want to make things harder for me — or you.”
“Stiles…”
“Hmm?”
Without answering, Isaac leans down and presses his lips against Stiles’, kissing him slowly, feeling the cold wetness of snow on his skin. He sighs and closes his eyes, completely aware that the people around them are staring but he doesn’t care.
After a moment, Isaac pulls back and laughs breathlessly. “I love you too,” he whispers. “I’ve loved you since I was fourteen and when you — when you came to save me that night, when my dad nearly killed me, that’s when I fell in love with you more.”
Stiles just stares up at Isaac, his lips curling into a smile.
“I owe you my life, Stiles, and I won’t be able to thank you enough for saving me. I can’t thank your dad enough for taking me in and helping me,” Isaac continues and lifts a hand, cupping Stiles’ cheek, thumb brushing along his cheekbone. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” comes Stiles’ reply before he leans up to kiss Isaac again, harder this time, and he bites the other boy’s lip, pulling away when he moans. “And you don’t owe me anything. I did it because you’re my best friend and I was worried. I didn’t know your dad was going to go psycho on you…”
Talking about his dad makes Isaac’s chest tighten and he swallows, remembering the tattoo on Stiles’ shoulder. “You have a tattoo,” he mumbles.
“Oh.” Stiles blinks and chews the edge of his lip. “Yeah, I do.”
“What is it? I didn’t really get a good look.” Isaac continues to stroke Stiles’ cheek as he speaks, a small smile on his face.
Stiles looks away, across the street, and shrugs. “My mom’s name,” he answers and Isaac’s chest tightens. Of course Stiles would get a tattoo for his mom — he should have known that.
“I’m sorry I asked,” Isaac mumbles and leans down to kiss Stiles’ cheek lightly, brushing lips lips along the other boy’s skin. He pulls him close and hugs Stiles tightly, laying his head against the other’s.
They stand for a moment, wrapped up in each other’s arms and in the silence, before Stiles breaks it. “Let’s go get coffee,” he says and pulls Isaac toward the cafe.
Isaac goes willingly and they go inside, heading up to the counter. Stiles orders for both of them and they grab their coffees, heading toward a corner. They sit together and sip their drinks, talking about what kind of classes Stiles is taking and how school is going for Isaac.
By the time they get back to the apartment, the snow is coming down harder and both of them strip out of their winter clothes. The heat kicks on and they stand by the window in their pajamas, Isaac holding Stiles against him, kissing the side of his neck.
Snow, Isaac decides, is the best thing ever — after kissing Stiles, of course — and he makes a mental note to look into transferring to New York. Purely for the gorgeous winters… and to be with Stiles.