𝗜saac sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the blank flat screen in front of him. He could see the blurry ins and outs of his reflection as he bounced his leg up and down and gnawed on the skin around his nails. The more he looked, the more he saw the faint image of his father's face. The way his skin matched his – the way his hair was more poofier, and accurately projected onto this less than average version of a mirror.
Seeing his mother break down on the floor of her New York house was a memory he never wanted to experience, but now found engraved at the front of his mind; it played like an endless loop – constantly rewinding and fast-forwarding to hurt him in the worst ways.
When he left her, and she submitted to the pillows in her bedroom, part of him felt like he not only lost one parent but somehow, both of them.
He lifted his head when the door to his room opened gently. Almost as soon as his eyes connected with his brother's baby blue, pale ones, he was on his feet, watching him cross the room. He slammed his vision off, hiding the pain in his eyes behind his eyelids as Mason collided into him.
Enveloped in a hug now, he couldn't keep the feelings at a simmer any longer. Isaac wrapped his fingers around the back of his shirt and pushed their bodies together as if they were pancakes being stacked. Mason glided his hand across the back of his head and back, soothing him.
"I'm so sorry, Zac," he whispered, "I'm sorry I wasn't there."
It's okay, he wanted to say.
Neither was I, he wanted to speak.
With all of that in mind, he stepped even closer to him and breathed him in. Ever since the day they met, Mason has felt like the human embodiment of home – more than anything else on this planet. He was an unstoppable force of love and adoration which often left him jealous and feigning for more. But Mason never made him feel like shit for his addiction – he just loved him back, unconditionally, as if they were meant to be brothers in every single timeline.
"Mason," he whimpered.
"I got you," he tightened his grip, "I'm here."
"What am I going to do?"
"What you've always done. You're going to live and you're going to make Rufus proud; I know he'll be watching you, even if you can't see him."
Isaac nodded and pulled out of the hug, sitting down on the bed. Mason sat next to him, keeping his hands around one of his own to offer some type of physical reassurance. He had to admit – it was working.
Mason always made it easier to breathe.
"Tell me what happened."
"Well—"
His words were cut off by a series of loud voices in the hallway. Isaac and Mason both bent over and looked out of the crack in the open door to see who they knew were arguing.
Rayne passed first; her face was bright red and she was flinging her hands in the air.
"Just leave me alone! Go find a room where you can breathe properly in!"
Then Rueben passed; he had a hand on his face and he was rubbing his temple.
"—I told you I was sorry! I didn't mean it!"
"Go. Away!"
A door slammed after that.
It was quiet for a second, then Rueben started saying things that were incoherent. When there was no response, the squeak of his shoes indicated that he was walking away. Both of them sat back on the bed and looked elsewhere, pretending like they weren't eavesdropping.
Rueben closed the door as he entered; even they couldn't hide the looks on their faces.
"What?" he asked.
"Doghouse?" Mason immediately responded.
"Shut up."
"Hey!—it was a question."
Rueben sighed and sat on the bed next to him, "Yeah."
"Wanna talk about it?" Isaac offered.
"No," he shook his head and looked at him, taking his free hand, "How are you doing?"
At the sound of his words, he dropped his head and studied the laces on his sneakers. While he could admit that Rayne and Rueben's intrusion was a happy distraction, he knew that avoiding the truth of his life would just delay the inevitable – the grief and the pain.
"I don't know," he admitted, "I guess I just feel ... lost."
"Is there anything we can do?" Rueben squeezed his hand.
He shook his head, "Not really – just be here for me?"
"We can do that."
"Every day and every second," Mason added.
Isaac started to cry silently again as both of them rested their heads on his shoulders and pulled him into a group hug. He hated the mafia so much – it was a job that risked everyone he's ever loved; he never would have wanted this life for himself if he knew that going in. But, on the other hand – without this stupid organization, he would have never found his family.
His self-created brothers.
Isaac sniffled; his dad was gone, and he was never going to come back. He knew that and so, in return of that thought, he promised to himself that he would never let this happen to anyone else. He would rather die himself than allow any of his family to receive that same death.
He hoped no one would die, though.
Stumbling upon happiness as a human was like finding a lost pot of gold – he had the itch to hide it all, to store it in a place where only he had the code to visit it. With Mason's goofy ass, and Rueben's overprotective ass, he knew he could always lean on them for this said desire.
However, the feeling of comfort became too much for him in this moment.
"Okay!" he stood up from the hug, "I need to take a breather."
"Everything okay?" Rueben looked at him sadly.
"Yeah," he nodded, "I think I just need to go for a drive or something. If I keep sitting here, feeling sorry for myself, I have a feeling I'll never get up again, and that's not what we need right now. I need to be on my A game for this mission."
"Screw the mission, Zac," Mason gazed at him with confusion, "You're what matters!"
"Yes and no. Each have equal importance."
"Isaac—"
He waved them off and turned, leaving the room. He knew that they were sitting on his bed, contemplating following him, but by the time they decided to do so against his will, he would be out of the driveway, getting the air he needed.
There was something unspoken about grief and it was the fact that it had to be done solo. As much as others around him wanted to be there for him, until he decided he was okay, and until the proper amount of time passed for him, things would never get better.
He grabbed his keys, pressing his thumbs into his eyes to stop the stinging tears from flowing.
Isaac ran down the front steps and unlocked his car, slipping into the driver's seat. He put the keys in his ignition, keeping his head down and angled to the side as he breathed heavily and unsteadily.
"So, where are we going?"
He jumped in his seat, almost throwing his keys as he looked to the side. Franki looked at him with wide eyes while sitting nonchalantly in his passenger's seat. Her hair was up in a messy bun and she was wearing dressed-down clothes he never imagined she would purchase.
"What are you doing here?" he asked once he caught his heart.
"Taryn called me."
"For what?"
Franki's face softened, "Rufus was my mentor and something like a father figure to me."
"Oh – right."
"I'd like to keep you company, if that's okay," she shifted in her seat.
He nodded slowly. She was a foreign enigma to him, but if there was someone on this planet that shared the grief he was feeling on a similar level to his own, then he wouldn't mind pretending like he could let that person in for a while.
"Yeah."
"So, I was thinking," she twined her hair around her finger, "We could hit up that burger place he loved to go to, or maybe we could get ice cream from the beach vendor..."
A hint of a smile crossed his face as he listened to her list of the places that were most important to his father. It took this moment to recognize how much of an impact he had on not only his life but others around him, too.
"Hey, Franki?" he interrupted her.
"Yeah?" she turned to him.
"I'm really going to miss him," his voice broke.
"Oh, honey," she leaned across the center console, "I will, too."
Isaac accepted the third hug of the day from her. Surprisingly, even though she was just another fighter on his team and basically an emotional stranger, he felt as safe as he did with his brothers.