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theprettybeta (theprettybeta) wrote in paradisolog,

"I don't need you to fix it," he promised, his face softening a little as he looked down at her. This was nice. He couldn't help but think that this was nice, and being there with her calmed him in a way that he hadn't necessarily expected when she asked him if she could see him. That was something that he hadn't forgotten; this was Lydia's request, originally. Apparently she needed to get away just as much as he did, and although she was comforting him about feeling awful for even being there and saying what he was saying, it didn't help the fact that he was talking her ear off about a problem he knew there was no solution for. "No one can fix it. Only she can fix it, but I don't really know if she wants to anymore." He couldn't help but shrug one of his shoulders at the sheer irony of it. "It's funny because ever since this started she always spoke to me like she didn't believe me. Or that she was doubting me, or she didn't trust me and this... yeah. This is the first time I've actually thought that maybe she's the one that's not being honest with me."

He knew that she could relate to him, and that broke his heart. Isaac knew that Stiles cared about Lydia, he knew that Lydia was his first priority, but Isaac also knew that he couldn't tell her that. Stiles had to. Just as Lydia couldn't tell him that Malia was going to get better. She would have to show it. He sighed, reaching out for her, and Isaac let go of her hand so he could instead tuck his arm beneath Lydia and pull her into his chest. He needed her right now. And she had asked for him. He doubted it was so he could rant at her. "You're stressed enough as it is, you don't need this. ...There's nothing I can do about it." He said it with such defeat, as if he was just realizing it in that moment, and Isaac let his chin rest on the top of her head. "I just have to hope that she's going to wake up one morning and instead of changing her mind on who she wants to be that day, she can decide that she wants to actually apply the stuff that she already knows to every day situations. If she wants to bother trying that, at least."

He fell silent, and Isaac let himself indulge in what it felt like to hold her, in the quiet, in a bed, and she felt so comfortably in his arms that he had to purposefully not think about it. "You looked good, today," he muttered after a few beats of her heart. "We need to find you sunscreen. Your nose is pink."