Over the next few weeks, Isaac had become a shadow of himself, withdrawn and distant. His usual sharp focus had dulled, and his interactions with the pack were half-hearted at best. He would sit quietly during meetings, his eyes unfocused, often staring off into the distance as though lost in a memory he couldn't escape. Even his physical coordination—usually precise and fluid—seemed to suffer.

One afternoon, as they were walking across campus, Stiles and Lydia watched in silent disbelief as Isaac, deep in his thoughts, walked straight into a tree. The impact was loud enough to make Stiles wince and mutter, "Yikes."

Stiles turned to Lydia, leaning in conspiratorially. "You don't think you were a little harsh back then, do you?" His tone was cautious, almost pleading, as if he wanted permission to feel bad for Isaac.

Lydia rolled her eyes, her patience wearing thin. "Tell me something, Stiles," she said, her voice sharp but not unkind. "How would you feel if Scott stopped talking to you one day? No explanation. No warning. He just decided you didn't matter anymore and treated you like a stranger."

Stiles opened his mouth to respond but stopped short, her words hitting him harder than he expected. His frown deepened as he thought about it. "Horrible," he admitted softly. "It would feel horrible. But what does that have to do with this?"

Lydia's gaze softened slightly, but her resolve remained. "That's exactly my point, Stiles," she said with a sigh. "Isaac and Quinn were like you and Scott. They grew up together. They depended on each other. And then one day, Isaac just decided to cut her out of his life. Imagine how much pain she must have felt."

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, not wanting to dwell on a life without Scott. It was a thought too painful to entertain. "I guess I never thought of it that way," he admitted reluctantly.

"Quinn had to watch her best friend—the one person she trusted above everyone else—turn into someone she barely recognized," Lydia continued, her voice quieter now. "I'm not saying Isaac should have dragged her into all the supernatural chaos. But he didn't have to abandon her either. He could've stayed her friend. That was a choice he made, and it was the wrong one."

"But wasn't he just trying to protect her?" Stiles countered, though his voice lacked conviction.

"Maybe," Lydia conceded, resting her chin on her palm. "But the whole reason he took the bite was to protect her, wasn't it? To be stronger, braver, so he could keep her safe?"

Stiles nodded slowly, seeing her point even if he wasn't ready to admit it outright.

"And tell me," Lydia pressed, leaning forward slightly, "how do you protect someone you've pushed so far away they don't even know you anymore? How can he claim he's protecting her when he left her alone to fend for herself?"

Stiles sighed, his leg bouncing nervously under the table. "Okay, yeah, I see your point. He hurt her in the process. He did the one thing he probably swore he'd never do."

"Exactly," Lydia said firmly. "And now? They're all just looking for coping mechanisms. Isaac and Allison. Scott and Quinn. They're all trying to fill the voids with people who understand their pain. It's not love—it's a distraction. And it's dangerous. They're playing a game where everyone loses, all because they're too afraid to face the truth."

Stiles nodded in agreement, but before he could respond, Lydia returned her attention to her book, the conversation over as far as she was concerned.

...

Isaac, meanwhile, had stormed off after Lydia's words he knew she knew he was listening, her cutting critique replaying in his head on a loop. She was right, and he hated that she was right. He knew he had no right to feel jealous, or even to question Scott or Quinn. But that didn't stop him from wanting to see for himself, to confirm what he already knew but couldn't accept.

His feet carried him across campus almost on autopilot, his mind a chaotic mess of memories and regrets. The words he and Quinn had exchanged over the years echoed in his mind, each one cutting deeper than the last.

"I promise we'll always be together." The first promise they had made as kids, scared and broken but finding strength in each other.

"I promise to never lie." The promise he broke the night Derek saved him, the night he began hiding his new life from her.

"I promise to never hide anything." Another broken vow, shattered when he chose to fight his father and take the bite, believing it would make him strong enough to protect her.

"I promise to never let anyone come between us." His heart twisted as the final promise echoed in his mind, the weight of it suffocating.

Isaac came to a stop at the edge of the lacrosse field, his breath catching in his throat. There, in the centre of the field, was Quinn. She was laughing, her hands wrapped around a lacrosse stick as Scott stood behind her, guiding her movements. His arms were around her, his smile as wide as hers, and the sight was enough to make Isaac's chest tighten painfully.

A single tear slid down his cheek as he realized the truth: he had pushed her so far away that she had found solace in someone else's arms. He had all the chances in the world to fix things, to keep the promises they had made, and he had let every one of them slip through his fingers.

He turned away, his shoulders heavy with the weight of his guilt and regret. Isaac knew he couldn't blame anyone but himself. He had broken most of their promises, and now, he wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to mend what he had destroyed.

As Isaac turned away, his steps were slow, almost reluctant, as if the act of leaving was as painful as staying. The weight on his shoulders seemed to grow heavier with each step, pressing down on him like a physical burden he couldn't shrug off. He felt hollow, as though the part of him that had always belonged to Quinn had been carved out and handed to someone else—someone who had the courage to do what he couldn't.

He tried to convince himself that this was for the best. That Quinn was happy now, that Scott could protect her in ways he had failed to. But the thought offered no comfort. Instead, it felt like another knife to the chest, a reminder of all the times he'd failed her, of the promises he'd broken so carelessly.

"I promise we'll always be together." Those words haunted him, their sincerity from years ago now feeling like a cruel joke. They had said those things with such confidence, as if their bond was unbreakable as if nothing in the world could ever tear them apart. But he had been the one to tear it, piece by painful piece, until there was nothing left but silence and distance.

Isaac clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms as he replayed the moments that had led him here. The night he took the bite, the nights he avoided her calls, the mornings he walked the other way when he saw her approaching. Every decision he made in the name of "protection" now felt like cowardice in hindsight.

He paused at the edge of the field, glancing back one last time. Quinn was still laughing, her face lit up in a way that made his chest ache. Scott leaned closer, whispering something to her, and she playfully shoved him away, her cheeks flushed. It was a scene so simple, so pure, that it hurt to look at.

How could he ever hope to mend what he had destroyed? Could he even try? Would she ever forgive him for the pain he had caused, for the friendship he had thrown away? Isaac wasn't sure he could forgive himself.

But a small, stubborn part of him whispered that it wasn't too late. That maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to fix things. It wouldn't be easy. It might not even be possible. But wasn't it worth trying?

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting the field in a warm golden light, Isaac turned away once more. This time, his steps were quicker, his mind racing with possibilities. He couldn't change the past, but perhaps there was still a chance to rewrite the future.

He just needed to figure out where to start.