He watches you from afar, his jaw jutting out and his tongue pressing into his bottom lip. Your laugh, god, your laugh rings out through the room, warm and light.

Stiles was practically sitting in your lap, he was a touchy guy, always showing his affection through touch, platonic or otherwise. Isaac knows you aren’t with Stiles, he knows he shouldn’t be jealous.

You aren’t his.

Isaac swallows the lump in his throat and looks away.