red riding hood | void stiles [au]

two ; present

CHAPTER TWO: FRANCE

ISSAC LAHEY WATCHED THE sun set from the small window in his tiny kitchen, lost in deep thought about how his roommate and father figure, Chris Argent, had left to go back to the chaotic town of Beacon Hills — his home. A part of him felt guilty since he didn't decide to go with the middle-aged man, knowing that Scott and the rest of the pack had been family to him when he needed it the most, but it was still too soon for him. Even though there were a lot of good memories that came to mind when thinking about Beacon Hills, a lot of bad ones accompanied them, which resulted in Issac protesting the idea of going back altogether. He still needed time.

The dirty blonde sighed, walking into the connected living room and sitting on the pale yellow sofa, a television remote soon finding its way into his hand to find something semi-interesting to watch. Usually he had the company of Argent, the one who had learned to accept him overtime and even more once they found a way to grieve together after Allison's death, but with him gone, the not-so-spacious apartment in the country of France felt unusually empty. It had only been about five months since everything happened, though it didn't feel like that at all, it felt like he had just witnessed the aftermath of battling at Oak Creek yesterday.

His ears perked up after overhearing a loud bang coming from the hallway outside his place, the fact that he was a werewolf making his hearing supernaturally sharper, a curious look soon being sent to the closed door that was the main entrance to his home. Issac was frowning, trying to pick up on something else like a heartbeat or someone breathing — anything to reassure him that whoever made the noise was alive and okay. But he heard nothing else, wondering what the hell was going on out there.

The need to do the right thing and cheek it out was what motivated him to stand up and head to the door, clasping the handle to open it up and stepping outside. His head turned left and right quickly, looking for something out of place or anything that could explain the odd noise he just heard, thoughts slithering into his brain about the possibility that he imagined the whole thing and just needed to sleep it off. Nothing was out of the ordinary, no one was lying on the floor of the hallway, and every detail that made up the scenery wasn't suspicious at all. Until the lights above him started flickering of course.

That's when he felt it, that's when he felt the warning surge of awareness flood through him that told him something was not right, his muscles tensing from underneath his gray crewneck sweatshirt. He wary of everything now, wondering if no matter what or no matter where he was that complications would follow him, but right now he didn't know anything. He had no idea was what was happening or what exactly he was currently witnessing, confusion spreading through him, though his poker face was still on, not distracted whatsoever.

When the lights finally went out, he moved backwards into his apartment again, letting the faint sunlight that was still left provide enough brightness for him to see. His light eyes were trained on the opened entrance in front of him, his long, sharp claws already out and resting by his side in case anything dangerous barged through, and his instincts were absolutely screaming at him that he wasn't alone. But Issac's hearing or skilled eyes couldn't pick anything up, and he was left to wonder about all the possibilities that classified this circumstance as simply a coincidence.