It's Been a Long Night

Wyatt had gone out for a smoke. And he felt really bad about it, he felt awful, because he always tried his best not to do that at Blake’s house. They had two kids and zero ashtrays. But hell, his nerves were still frayed even days after and he just needed it. 

It was way too early in the morning, because Wyatt hadn’t been able to sleep for longer than a couple hours. Mist still clung to the sky, slowly being sucked into the earth. If he focused hard enough, he could almost see it happening. It was this thought that occupied him when he heard the soft creak of the front door opening. He didn’t turn his head, because what would that accomplish, in the grand scheme of things, anyways?

“You’re up early,” Isaac said. Wyatt could almost hear the tilt of his head, light accusation of Didn’t you stay up late last night? 

“Sorry, did I bother you?” He turned now, after expelling the smoke from his lungs. Isaac shook his head.

“I was starting breakfast, and noticed the smell.”

Wyatt dropped his gaze. He thought he heard Isaac sigh lightly.

“I’m not mad, don’t worry. I’m moreso… concerned,” He seemed to drift off as if asking a question. 

“Hmm,” He hummed, “I appreciate it, but this sort of thing happens a lot. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Don’t I?” Isaac met his eyes. “Considering this week’s events?”

Wyatt looked away. He unclenched his jaw and took a drag. 

“I know,” he said, “I know, we got the guy, there’s nothing to worry about, I can relax and all that shit.”

“That’s not what I was trying to say.” 

Wyatt was too tired to do this emotions talk. His fingers were starting to arouse with tremors again, despite the burning stick set between them. He didn’t know how to respond, so he didn’t. Isaac moved closer, and he idly wondered if breakfast would be delayed for everyone else because of him. As if he needed and excuse to feel worse. 

“It should be perfectly normal to still feel bad after everything is over. Perhaps it will be worse, because you have nothing to distract yourself,” Isaac said.

Wyatt rolled his cigarette between his fingers.

“It will subside eventually, but it’s okay that it hasn’t yet. I think it would be more concerning if you hadn’t been upset.”

“Why are you telling me things I already know?” Wyatt said.

“In case you didn’t know them,” Isaac replied. Wyatt glanced over at him. He seemed to be taking in the morning sights to be had across their front lawn. “Besides, when I feel… bad, I find it helpful to compartmentalize my emotions. To explain them and understand them as normal is to make them less scary. Piper’s the same.”

He looked to Wyatt.

“Sorry if I was too presumptuous.”

“You weren’t. I… do appreciate it,” Wyatt responded, observing the orange spots crawl their way down. “I’m getting there, I’m just a little… I dunno.” 

Isaac hummed. Neither of them spoke up again, and they sat like that on the porch, Wyatt leaned against the railing with a halo of smoke, and Isaac a short distance away, not awake enough to have attached his prosthetic yet. The chill was receding, and the chatter of birds only grew louder with the rise of the sun. If Wyatt was honest, his nerves really had settled now that he was out of the dark. The nicotine probably helped, too.

“Would you like to help me put together breakfast?” Isaac asked. Wyatt put out the last of his cigarette and gave him a weak smile.

“Sure.”