"Then you're lucky," Isaac replied honestly, his voice slipping into something more bitter. Isaac wish he didn't care. But having said all of that to Scott... it was the first time he had admitted any of it to another person. By admitting it, it meant that he had to admit to himself that he wasn't nearly as past any of it as he tried to convince himself that he was, and that disappointment in himself had reared it's ugly head all over again. He felt like he couldn't do anything right anymore, and the scariest part of it was that he didn't know what else he lied about to himself. It was as if he was realizing that even he didn't know who he was anymore.
"A hot mess is still hot though," he argued with a small smile, but it didn't exactly reach his eyes. "You know I would tell you if you looked like shit, Lydia. You look good. I mean it. I told you before, you've just got one of those faces."
He didn't wait for her to ask, because he knew that she wouldn't. Instead, Isaac took a few steps ahead of Lydia before turning to stand before her so she would stop moving, and he stared down at her for a few seconds before his hands moved so he could gently place his fingertips on either side of her head at her temples. His blue eyes seemed a little more dull, a little more tired with the shadows under them, and that made sense considering he still hadn't slept. Despite the vacant look in his face, though, he managed another slight smile as he pulled some of that ache out of her, ink running up the veins of his arms. If she didn't want it she could move away from him, but Isaac needed to feel useful somewhere. It helped him just as much as it helped her.
"I'm sorry," he finally managed to mutter under his breath. "I didn't want you to see any of that. I wasn't thinking, I've regretted putting it out there ever since it happened. ...I don't know what came over me."