Quinn was sitting by herself on a worn, wooden bench in the middle of the school courtyard, the sunlight casting a warm glow over the pages of the book she was reading.

The noise of students chatting and laughing around her barely registered; she was lost in her world of words, finding comfort in the quiet moment. The rhythmic turning of pages was the only sound she could hear until the bench beside her creaked under the weight of someone settling down next to her.

She glanced up, surprised, and found herself staring at none other than Scott McCall. He looked a bit unsure of himself, his expression betraying a mix of nerves and awkwardness.

"Hey, Quinn," he greeted her, his voice carrying a note of hesitation.

"Hey, Scott?" she replied, her words trailing off into a question, unsure of why he was suddenly sitting beside her. Ever since that brief, chance encounter in the hallway, Scott had started greeting her every time their paths crossed. It had felt strange at first, but now, she found herself acknowledging him back, albeit with some uncertainty.

"This is weird... isn't it?" Scott said, breaking the silence in an almost too-exaggerated manner. Quinn couldn't help but laugh at the way he said it—he reminded her of a sad puppy who had just lost its bone.

"Well, no, not really. I mean, you do often say 'hi' to me in the halls," Quinn responded, her voice softening, still amused by the awkwardness radiating off him.

"It's still weird," Scott insisted, his face crinkling as if he was wrestling with the discomfort of the situation. Quinn lowered her book in her lap, a chuckle escaping her lips at his awkwardness. It was endearing in a way.

"It's not weird unless you say it is," she teased, looking at him with a knowing smile. His face contorted with horror, and she quickly realized her words might have caught him off guard.

"It was a joke," she added quickly, her voice light, trying to ease the tension that had suddenly filled the air.

Scott shifted uncomfortably beside her, his hands fidgeting as if he couldn't decide whether to laugh or apologize. "Sorry—I just didn't know how to approach you," he confessed, his voice laced with vulnerability. "We've had classes since freshman year, and we never actually spoke to each other."

Quinn looked at him, her gaze thoughtful as she considered his words. "Maybe it wasn't the right time," she said quietly, a smile forming on her lips as she shifted slightly, nudging her head towards the table across the courtyard where Lydia Martin and Stiles Stilinski sat, talking and laughing.

Scott's eyes followed the direction of her gaze, and for a moment, he seemed to be caught up in the scene in front of him. "Like them, for instance?" Quinn continued her tone light. "A lot of people know about how Stiles liked Lydia. I think it was obvious to everyone but them." She leaned in just a bit closer, lowering her voice. "And after Jackson transferred, we all got to see the real Lydia Martin. The smart and friendly Lydia, not the one who acts all dumb and snobby."

Scott's face softened at her words, a small smile curling at the corners of his mouth. He turned back to her, his expression now more open. "What about Stiles?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Quinn smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, he's still the same in most ways, but something about him is definitely different. He's more confident now. You can see it."

Scott nodded, his eyes scanning her face, clearly trying to understand her a little more. After a brief pause, he leaned back slightly, looking at her with a question in his eyes. "So, is that what you do?"

Quinn raised an eyebrow, her expression slightly amused. "What? Observe people?"

"Yeah," Scott replied, his tone slightly teasing. But he noticed the way her face shifted subtly, her smile faltering just for a second like she was trying to cover something up. It was so quick, but Scott caught it.

Quinn quickly masked the shift in her expression with a fake smile. "It's just how I spend most of my time. Ever since—" She didn't finish the sentence. Instead, she looked down at her hands resting on the book in her lap, her fingers tracing the cover absently.

"Isaac," Scott said, his voice gentle, but Quinn felt her heart rate spike at the mention of his name. The unease was evident in her body language, but Scott didn't push her. He waited, quietly.

"Sorry," he added quickly. "I didn't mean to be insensitive."

Quinn shook her head, her eyes lifting to meet his. "It's fine," she reassured him, her voice steady. "It doesn't bother me anymore. We're practically strangers now—especially with him in your circle." She laughed lightly, but there was no real humour in her voice. "Okay, I can see how messed up that sounds now that I say it."

Scott wanted to say something—wanted to tell her that that wasn't true, that Isaac still talked about her all the time, that he'd never truly let her go. But the words wouldn't come. It was hard to know how to explain what had happened without making things worse. Isaac had wanted to keep Quinn safe, to keep her out of everything, but it was clear to Scott now that the way Isaac had handled things had pushed her away instead. The distant look in Quinn's eyes made it seem like trying to fix things would be a lot more complicated than he had originally thought.

The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words. Quinn glanced back at the courtyard, her gaze distant, as if she were seeing something far beyond the people sitting there. "I guess we all change in the end," she murmured, more to herself than to Scott.

The weight of the years of friendship, promises made, and promises broken hung heavy in the air, but neither of them knew how to bridge the gap between what was and what could have been.

Scott glanced at her, his mind racing with all the things he could say—things that might comfort her, things that might help her understand—but instead, he simply nodded. He understood more than she realized, and maybe that was the problem.

Maybe there were things that couldn't be fixed. That truth weighed heavily on Quinn as she sat next to Scott, trying to make sense of the shifting dynamics of her life. She had grown up with Isaac, their bond once inseparable, but now it felt like the very foundation they had built their friendship on was crumbling beneath her.

She could no longer reach him, could no longer find the same connection that had once been so effortless. He was different now, surrounded by new people, lost in a world that had little room for her.

Her thoughts drifted to the past, to the times when everything had felt so simple when the world had seemed small enough for them to conquer together. They had made promises—silly, childish ones—but ones that had meant the world to them at the time.

"Always be together," they'd said, pinky promises exchanged in moments of innocence. But now, those promises felt like hollow echoes of what they once were. Isaac had changed. She had changed. And they were both left wondering how they had drifted so far apart.

Scott, sitting beside her, felt the weight of her silence. He could see the way her eyes flickered with something—something between sadness and acceptance. She had resigned herself to the fact that things couldn't always be fixed, that the pieces of their broken friendship might never fit together again.

And in that moment, Scott knew that his own heart was heavy with the same unspoken truth. He had watched Isaac spiral, was he was becoming, and he understood that there were forces in the world—forces they had no control over—that could tear people apart.

"I guess some things are just too broken to fix," Quinn murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "And maybe that's okay. Maybe it's just part of growing up."

Scott didn't know how to respond. He had always been the optimist, always holding out hope that things would get better, that people would find their way back to each other. But even he couldn't deny the reality in Quinn's words.

Some things weren't meant to be fixed. Some things were beyond repair. Some promises were meant to be broken.

Quinn glanced at him then, her eyes tired but resolute. "I guess we just have to move on, huh?" She offered him a small, sad smile, trying to convince herself more than him. "Maybe the world doesn't stop for us to catch up."

Scott looked back at her, feeling a pang of sorrow for the girl who had once been inseparable from Isaac, who had shared every moment with him, every secret. Now, she was sitting here, a stranger in her own life, surrounded by people who couldn't understand the depth of her loss.

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. What could he say to make her feel better? That it would all somehow work out? That Isaac would return to the person he used to be? He couldn't promise her any of that.

So, instead, they sat in silence, two people who had once shared everything but were now bound by the unspoken reality that sometimes, people change. Sometimes, things break, and there's nothing anyone can do to fix it.

Quinn's hand lingered on the book in her lap, and for a moment, she wished she could lose herself in its pages again. But the world around her felt too real, too complicated for that kind of escape. Scott finally stood, breaking the silence between them. "I'll see you around, Quinn," he said softly, a look of understanding passing between them.

"Yeah," she replied quietly. "See you."

As Scott walked away, Quinn watched him go, feeling the weight of everything that had changed. The courtyard, once a place of solace, now felt like a reminder of all that had slipped through her fingers. Maybe there were things that couldn't be fixed, and maybe that was the hardest truth of all.