When Scott and Quinn started spending their lunch breaks together, it quickly became a routine. What had begun as a simple shared moment of escape from the chaos of their school lives turned into something that happened with increasing frequency.

At first, it was nothing more than two people finding comfort in each other's company, but soon it became more than that. Quinn had a quiet way about her, an observant nature that drew Scott in, and he began to look forward to those moments with her. They could talk about anything—or nothing at all—and it was enough to ease the tension that had built up in his life.

However, not everyone was as oblivious to their growing bond. Isaac, from a distance, watched them with a careful eye, unable to tear himself away from the sight of his old best friend sharing time with someone. The place for the longest time, had been his.

He had tried to suppress the surge of emotions that rose within him, but it was hard to ignore the pang of jealousy that shot through him every time he saw Quinn laugh at something Scott said. The more he saw, the more he found himself fighting the urge to shift, to let the wolf inside him take over, to confront Scott and demand to know what he was doing with her.

But even as the wolf within him growled in frustration, Isaac couldn't bring himself to take any action. What right did he have? He had pushed Quinn away, driven her to the point where she no longer sought him out, no longer cared for the promises they had made as children.

She deserved the freedom to make her own choices, to choose her own path. Isaac knew that he had no one to blame but himself for how things had turned out. He was the one who had ruined their friendship, the one who had let his fears and his own insecurities drive her away.

Derek had warned him countless times to stay away from Quinn, to let her go, but Isaac could never bring himself to listen. How could he, when every fibre of his being screamed out to be near her?

Every night, he found himself standing outside her house, watching the lights flicker on and off, wondering if she was thinking of him if she ever missed the old Isaac. He would stand there, frozen, unsure of what to do, until the sense of guilt and shame became too much to bear, and he would retreat into the darkness.

Why couldn't he just act for himself, for once? Instead of hiding behind the safety of his pack, or seeking comfort in someone else?

It was this internal turmoil that pushed Isaac toward Allison. Just like him, she had her own reasons for seeking solace in someone else. She couldn't be with Scott, and Isaac found himself in the same position as Quinn. They were both trapped in this tangled web of longing and confusion, where their hearts told them one thing, but their actions betrayed them.

It was wrong, so undeniably wrong, but like all of them, Isaac and Allison found comfort in the people who were there, right in front of them, while the people they truly wanted to be with remained distant, unreachable.

The truth was, none of them were willing to face what was right in front of them. They were all too afraid to confront their own realities, to face the fact that they had all hurt each other. They sought comfort where they could find it, turning a blind eye to the mess they had made.

Quinn, for her part, was still unaware of the supernatural world that surrounded them. While Scott had slowly let her into his life, introducing her to the circle of friends he had built, Isaac had kept his distance, as though hoping that by staying away, the cracks in their friendship might heal themselves.

But the reality was that Quinn and Scott had grown close, their bond forming naturally over time. They spent more and more time together, sharing moments and laughter, and soon they were inseparable in a way that Isaac could no longer ignore.

Though Quinn never made it into their inner circle she found her place alongside Stiles and Lydia. The three of them would hang out, sharing secrets and stories, while Isaac and Allison were left to their own devices. But Scott had made sure that Quinn and Isaac never crossed paths, keeping the two of them apart, unable to talk, unable to reconcile what had been broken.

Scott couldn't force Quinn to become friends with Isaac again, not like he had with Allison. Their friendship had survived, despite the complications of their feelings for each other. But Isaac and Quinn? They were still strangers, their bond fractured beyond repair.

"Isaac has no idea, does he?" Stiles asked, looking over at Scott, who was lying sprawled out on his bed.

Scott lifted his head slightly, his brow furrowed in confusion. "No idea about what?"

Stiles rolled his eyes and groaned, flopping back in his chair. "About you and Quinn," he said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Scott sat up, now fully awake. "Like you say, something is going on?" he asked, his voice heavy with uncertainty.

Stiles waved a hand dismissively, clearly annoyed. "You can't pull that with me, Scott! I'm your best friend, remember? I'm observant, you know that."

Scott closed his eyes for a moment, running a hand through his hair. He could feel the tension building again, the uncertainty gnawing at him. "Isaac will think I'm doing this to get back at him, for going after Allison," he muttered, his voice tinged with frustration.

"Are you?" Stiles asked, his tone probing.

Scott frowned, running his fingers through his hair. "No, I'm not. It's just... Quinn makes me forget about all the pain," he admitted, his words feeling heavier than he expected. "My God, it sounds like I'm using her, doesn't it?"

Stiles lifted his hand to his mouth, uncertain how to respond. He stared at Scott for a long moment, before finally speaking. "It's a square," he said, his voice quiet but thoughtful.

Scott blinked in confusion. "What?"

Stiles sighed. "Allison goes for Isaac because she can't be with you. And Isaac... he's with her because he can't be with Quinn. And then vice versa."

Scott stared at him for a long moment, the realization slowly sinking in.

The entire situation was a tangled mess of their own making. Everyone was stuck in their own little corner, desperately holding on to whatever they could while ignoring the truth they were all too scared to face.

Finally, Scott groaned, grabbing his pillow and covering his face. "This is such a mess," he muttered, the weight of it all pressing down on him.

Stiles watched his best friend for a moment, the heavy silence filling the room as Scott lay there, his face buried in the pillow. It was a rare sight, this vulnerability from Scott, usually the one who kept everything together for everyone.

But today, the strain was obvious, the weight of everything catching up to him. Stiles had seen it before, in other situations, but this time it felt different. There was more at stake.

"Yeah," Stiles finally said, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. "It's a total disaster. But you know what? It's not the end of the world. You're not the only one caught in this mess, you know."

Scott lifted his head just enough to peer over the edge of the pillow, his eyes tired but sharp. "I'm not sure it feels like that right now."

Stiles let out a humourless chuckle, running a hand through his hair. "I get it. It's a lot. But you're not the only one tangled up in all of this. Isaac's got his own mess, Quinn's dealing with her stuff... and then there's Allison." He trailed off, glancing at Scott.

Scott's jaw clenched at the mention of Allison. "I don't even know where I stand with her anymore."

"I don't think anyone knows where they stand anymore," Stiles replied, his tone unusually serious. "But I'm telling you, Scott, you can't keep running from it. From them. From... whatever this is. Sooner or later, you're gonna have to face it."

Scott sat up, throwing the pillow aside with a frustrated sigh. "But how? How do I face something when everything's messed up? When I don't even know what I'm supposed to do anymore?"

Stiles looked at him for a long moment, then stood up and walked over to the window. "You just do. You keep moving, even when everything feels like it's falling apart. You don't have to have it all figured out, Scott. Nobody does."

Scott ran a hand through his hair again, his thoughts a whirlwind. "I know I should talk to Quinn. I know I should try and fix things with Allison... but it feels like too much now. Too much time, too many lies... too much distance. I'm not sure there's anything left to fix."

"Don't say that," Stiles said, his voice firm as he turned back to face Scott. "Just because it feels like it's too far gone doesn't mean it is. You can't let fear keep you from trying. Don't let it win."

Scott looked at him, the weight of Stiles' words sinking in. "I don't know if I can fix things with Quinn, or with anyone. It's just... everything's so complicated. And I'm tired, Stiles."

Stiles softened, taking a step toward him. "I know you are. We all are. But the worst thing you can do right now is give up. It's messy. It's complicated. But you don't know what'll happen until you try."

Scott nodded, slowly taking in what his friend was saying. It wasn't an easy fix, nothing ever was. But maybe, just maybe, there was a chance. A small one, but a chance nonetheless.

As Stiles made his way back to his chair, he shot Scott a look. "Just... don't let Isaac have the last word in this mess, okay?"

Scott's expression hardened at the mention of Isaac, the tension rising again. "I'm not planning to."

But even as he said the words, a knot of uncertainty twisted in his stomach. Isaac had been there first, with Quinn. Isaac had been her friend before Scott had even known what she meant to him. How could he compete with that?

Stiles, sensing the lingering doubt, clapped a hand on Scott's shoulder. "You just have to find your way. And if Isaac's still stuck in the past with Quinn, that's his problem. You have to worry about your own future now."

Scott let out a deep breath, his mind still racing. But Stiles was right. There was a future to think about, and maybe he needed to start taking control of it instead of letting the past dictate his every move.

The silence in the room hung heavy again, but this time, it felt like it might be the beginning of something different. Something new.