The morning light filtered through the blinds, casting soft stripes across the kitchen as Isaac sat at the table, eating cereal. He took a slow bite, glancing over at his dad, who was still sprawled out on the couch, snoring softly. His dad’s empty bottle of whiskey lay abandoned on the floor, a reminder of the night before. Isaac sighed, his fingers tapping nervously against his bowl.

“Isaac,” a voice called from the doorway, breaking the silence.

Isaac looked up to see his Uncle Logan standing in the entryway, dressed casually, but with an air of seriousness about him.

“Morning, Uncle logan,” Isaac muttered, pushing his cereal aside.

Logan nodded and stepped into the kitchen, his eyes briefly glancing at his brother on the couch before looking back at Isaac. “So, I’m going to take you to the Founders Party tonight.”

Isaac froze, his spoon halfway to his mouth. “What?” he asked, his voice thick with disbelief.

“You heard me,” Logan said, ignoring Isaac's groan. “I’m picking you up around seven.”

Isaac slouched in his chair, rolling his eyes. “I hate those parties. You know that.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “It’s a family thing, Isaac. You can’t keep avoiding them forever.”

“I’d rather,” Isaac muttered under his breath. “And besides, Caroline and Bonnie are practically forcing me to go. They think it'll be some kind of fun night out.”

“Caroline?” Logan said with a raised eyebrow. “I’m sure she’s got some idea that this will be a social event for you, some kind of ‘come out of your shell’ thing.”

Isaac scoffed. “Exactly. And Bonnie’s all about keeping up appearances. She says it’ll be a good way to ‘connect with everyone.’”

“Girls have their ways,” Logan said with a smirk, as if recalling a memory of his own. “But listen, Isaac, it’s not just about the party. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your... situation with your dad.”

Isaac looked away, his jaw tightening. “Not now, Uncle Logan.”

Logan’s tone softened, but only slightly. “Look, I’m not trying to lecture you. But you’re growing up, and sometimes it’s not just about avoiding things. You’ve got a future to think about.”

Isaac’s eyes narrowed, frustration building. “And what, going to some fancy party is gonna make everything better?” He shook his head. “I don’t want to play their game. You know I’m not like them.”

“I know you’re not,” Logan replied quietly. “But sometimes, playing along helps. It gets you into circles where you need to be, especially if you want to get out of this town someday.”

Isaac stared at him, the weight of the conversation sinking in. He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to pretend like everything was fine when, inside, he felt like he was barely holding it together. But deep down, he knew Logan had a point.

Isaac sighed. “Fine. I’ll go. But I’m not gonna pretend to have fun.”

Logan chuckled, patting Isaac’s shoulder. “No one’s asking you to, kid. Just... play it cool, okay?”

Isaac nodded reluctantly, his gaze drifting back to his dad, still passed out on the couch. He knew tonight was going to be a long one.

---

At the Founders' Party, after Isaac reluctantly agrees to stay, the atmosphere is buzzing with excitement, the lights dimmed, and the music blaring from the speakers. Bonnie, eager to get Isaac to have a bit of fun, pulls him towards the dance floor.

"Come on, Isaac, just one dance," Bonnie urges with a playful smile, tugging at his arm. Isaac hesitates, glancing around the room as if hoping no one notices him.

"I don't really... this isn't my scene, Bonnie," Isaac mutters, still looking uncomfortable. He's never been one for dancing, let alone at an event like this.

But Bonnie, determined to pull him into the moment, spins him around lightly with a teasing grin. "Trust me, it'll be fine," she says, her eyes twinkling. "We can just have fun. You owe me after all the dragging you’ve done tonight."

Isaac chuckles despite himself, shaking his head. "Fine, fine. But only because you're making me," he says with a grin.

They step into the crowd, with the music pulsing around them. Bonnie begins to sway to the rhythm, her movements light and carefree. Isaac, a bit stiff at first, gradually loosens up as they dance together. There’s a brief moment where their eyes lock, and for a second, the world around them fades. Isaac smiles, realizing that even though he’s not thrilled about the party, being with Bonnie feels like a bit of an escape from everything.

Bonnie laughs softly as she twirls around, clearly enjoying the freedom of the moment. Isaac laughs too, the tension in his shoulders easing. The night may have started with him feeling like an outsider, but right now, it’s just Bonnie, him, and the music. They share a fun, lighthearted moment before the weight of their complicated lives pulls them back to reality.

As the song fades, Bonnie gives him a playful nudge. "See? That wasn't so bad."

Isaac grins, a genuine smile forming on his face. "You were right. I needed that."

But even as they share a moment of joy, the lingering tension of the night’s events, the party’s hidden dangers, and their personal struggles remain. But for now, they’ve found a small reprieve in the middle of it all.

---

As the night goes on at the Founders' Party, Isaac and Tyler find themselves standing near the bar, both looking for a break from the crowd and the relentless pressure of the event.

Isaac glances at Tyler, who's scanning the area with an air of impatience. "You know," Isaac says with a smirk, "this whole party thing isn’t exactly my vibe. It’s all too... perfect, you know?"

Tyler lets out a low laugh, clearly feeling the same way. "Yeah, me neither," he replies, his eyes lingering on the people mingling around the room. "But hey, there's always alcohol."

Isaac follows Tyler's gaze and spots the bartender setting up a new batch of drinks. "Can’t argue with that."

Without another word, Tyler grabs a couple of drinks from the counter—one for Isaac, one for himself. He hands Isaac a glass with a grin. "To surviving this nightmare," Tyler says, raising his glass.

Isaac chuckles and raises his own. "To surviving, I guess," he agrees, and they clink their glasses together.

They both take a long sip, the alcohol warming their throats and giving them a moment of relief from the chaos of the evening. The tension from earlier in the night, the awkwardness of mingling with the other guests, begins to dissipate with each passing second.

"Not bad," Isaac mutters, eyeing the drink in his hand. Tyler grins, clearly pleased with his choice.

"Good stuff," Tyler agrees, glancing around. "Though, I wouldn't mind if we made it a little more interesting. I mean, who’s gonna know?"

Isaac raises an eyebrow, a small, hesitant laugh escaping him. "What are you thinking?"

Tyler shrugs. "Just a little bit more... of whatever that is," he gestures to the alcohol behind the bar, a mischievous look in his eyes. "Don’t tell me you’re not curious."

Isaac hesitates, eyeing Tyler’s boldness and the way the night has already gone off course. Part of him wants to stay in control, but part of him is already tired of being the responsible one. With a reluctant grin, Isaac nods. "Alright, alright. Let’s see what happens."

The two of them exchange a quick, conspiratorial look before heading back to the bar for another round. As the drinks begin to flow more freely, the lines between what’s expected and what feels good start to blur, and both Isaac and Tyler start to lose themselves in the freedom of the night.

It’s just one drink. But sometimes, one drink is enough to push them a little further, and the night takes on a new edge.

---

Isaac is standing near the entrance of the Founders' Party, his glass in hand, still trying to process the night's events. He’s only half paying attention to the people around him when a voice cuts through the chatter.

“Don’t tell me—another one of Caroline’s friends?” The voice is smooth, laced with a dark humor that instantly makes Isaac look up.

A man, casually dressed in a dark suit, stands before him with a smirk on his face. His eyes are a sharp blue, and his presence is almost magnetic. Isaac can't help but feel a little thrown off by the stranger's easy confidence.

“Damon Salvatore,” the man introduces himself, his grin widening when Isaac just stares at him, a bit taken aback. "Caroline’s boyfriend. You must be Isaac, right?"

Isaac narrows his eyes slightly, trying to read the guy. “Yeah, I’m Isaac. And you’re... the guy who’s been getting all the attention from Caroline?” he says, half-joking but also sizing Damon up.

Damon laughs, low and easy, like he’s heard the same question a thousand times before and enjoys it every time. “That would be me.” His eyes scan Isaac for a moment, clearly sizing him up as well. “You’re a football star, right? I can tell. Football, popularity—your type is easy to spot."

Isaac bristles slightly at the comment but doesn’t let it show. “Yeah, I play. But I’m not exactly a fan of these parties," he admits, gesturing vaguely to the room filled with people mingling and pretending to be perfect.

Damon’s grin widens, clearly entertained. “I hear you, kid. Parties like this are a joke, and most of the people here wouldn’t know real fun if it slapped them in the face. But hey, Caroline’s a fan of these things, so here I am.” He shrugs, his tone almost like he doesn’t care, but there’s something behind it that suggests he's always in control of whatever situation he's in.

Isaac takes a sip of his drink, still wary of Damon’s presence. "I’m guessing you're not really into this whole ‘founders’ thing, either."

Damon looks at Isaac, his gaze piercing. “It’s funny you mention that. ‘Founders’ parties are just a way for the old rich people to congratulate themselves for... well, being rich and old. But there’s always more to the story than they let on. It’s all about appearances.”

Isaac doesn’t quite know how to respond to that. The way Damon talks makes it clear he sees right through the surface-level stuff, and Isaac's not sure he likes being caught in the crossfire of someone who knows how to play the game so effortlessly.

“So... what brings you here, then?” Isaac asks, his curiosity winning out over his caution. There's something about Damon that he can’t quite put his finger on—something that feels too... easy.

Damon smirks. "Caroline, of course," he says simply, as if it explains everything. "But also, I like to keep an eye on things. You’d be surprised what you can learn at these boring little events."

Isaac raises an eyebrow, a little unnerved by the way Damon speaks. "What exactly are you looking for?"

Damon’s smile never falters. "Oh, you’ll see. But for now, enjoy the party, Isaac. Who knows? It might surprise you."

Isaac’s gut tells him that Damon is trouble, but he doesn’t have much choice but to play along—at least for now. "Right, well, nice meeting you, I guess," Isaac says, trying to sound casual, though there's a slight unease in his voice.

Damon gives him a wink. “Likewise. Don’t drink too much, Isaac. Wouldn’t want you to end up doing something stupid.” Then, without waiting for a response, he turns and disappears into the crowd, leaving Isaac with more questions than answers.

Isaac watches him go, feeling the weight of his words lingering in the air. Something about Damon just doesn’t sit right, but Isaac’s not sure if he should trust his instincts just yet.

---

Isaac, his head spinning from a few too many drinks, leans against the wall in the crowded Founders' Party, trying to steady himself. The music and laughter blur around him, and for a brief moment, he lets himself drift in the haze of the alcohol. He’s been trying to escape the pressure of being a football star, living up to his father’s expectations, and now, dealing with the uncomfortable presence of Damon Salvatore and the rest of the guests.

As he takes another swig from his drink, he feels a hand on his shoulder, sharp and firm. He turns to see his uncle Logan, looking at him with a mix of concern and disappointment.

“Isaac,” Logan says, his voice low but serious, “What the hell are you doing?”

Isaac tries to shake it off, smiling a little too wide. “Just having fun, Uncle Logan. You should try it sometime.”

Logan doesn't smile back. “No, you’re not having fun. You’re numbing yourself. You’re drinking like your father.”

Isaac’s smile fades, the words hitting him harder than he expected. His father, the man who had a hold on Isaac’s life for as long as he could remember, the man who had ruined his mother’s life with addiction, the man who never lived up to his responsibilities. The thought of becoming like him—the image that Isaac feared more than anything—makes his chest tighten.

“I’m not like him,” Isaac mutters, his voice tight with a mix of anger and fear.

“You’re starting to act like him,” Logan shoots back, his tone growing more intense. “You’ve been pushing people away, making reckless decisions, and now you’re drowning yourself in booze at a party to forget everything.”

Isaac’s eyes burn with frustration. He doesn’t want to hear this right now. He’s been trying to ignore the fact that his life has been spiraling out of control, that he’s walking a fine line between being the perfect son and rebelling against the very thing he’s supposed to be.

"I’m not like him," Isaac repeats, though this time it feels more like a plea than a declaration.

Logan steps closer, lowering his voice. “Then prove it, Isaac. You can’t keep pretending like you’re fine, or that this is all just fun and games. It’s not. And if you don’t stop now, you’re going to find yourself in a place you can’t come back from.”

Isaac swallows hard, his throat dry. The thought of following in his father’s footsteps terrifies him more than anything. He doesn’t want to be trapped in that cycle of self-destruction. But right now, everything feels so out of control, and the alcohol is the only thing dulling the noise in his head.

“I’m just... I don’t know what to do anymore,” Isaac admits quietly, his voice cracking for the first time.

Logan’s expression softens slightly, his anger giving way to concern. “You don’t have to do this alone, Isaac. But you’ve got to make a choice. You want to be the man you’re afraid of becoming, or do you want to fight for something better?”

Isaac looks down at his drink, the weight of his uncle’s words sinking in. He feels torn, like he's being pulled in two directions. On one side, there’s the familiar comfort of escaping through alcohol, pushing away the responsibility and the expectations. On the other side, there’s the fear of becoming his father—losing everything in the process.

Logan waits, giving Isaac space to think, but the longer Isaac stands there, the more suffocating the silence feels.

“Come on,” Logan says, his voice gentler now. “Let’s get you out of here. You’re not your father, but you’re getting close. Don’t let that happen.”

Isaac doesn’t answer immediately. He just nods, feeling the weight of his choices pressing down on him. This moment—this decision—could define everything. Could he rise above it all, or was he already too far gone?

With a deep breath, Isaac tosses the rest of his drink aside and follows his uncle out of the party, the noise of the crowd fading behind them.

---

Logan’s grip on Isaac’s arm is firm as they leave the Founders' Party behind. Isaac stumbles slightly, trying to keep his balance, the alcohol still clouding his senses. But Logan doesn’t let go, steering him through the crowd of partygoers, who seem oblivious to the tension between the two.

“Come on, Isaac,” Logan mutters under his breath, clearly irritated but also concerned. “We’re not going to your house tonight.”

Isaac blinks at him, a wave of confusion washing over him. “What? Where are we going then?”

“Meredith’s,” Logan replies. “Your aunt’s place.”

Isaac opens his mouth to protest but quickly shuts it, his frustration simmering. He knows exactly why Logan’s taking him to Meredith’s. It’s the one place Isaac doesn’t want to be, the place where he feels most vulnerable. Meredith is always so calm, so level-headed, and right now, Isaac knows he’s far from either of those things.

“You know she’ll be mad, right?” Isaac mutters, his words slurring just a little. “She’s gonna make me feel like a kid again.”

“I don’t care. She’s the best person to help you right now,” Logan says, his voice clipped. “You’re not going home like this.”

Isaac doesn’t argue further as they get into Logan’s car and drive through the winding streets. It’s silent except for the hum of the engine and Isaac’s own thoughts, his mind racing with a mixture of guilt and anger.

When they pull up to Meredith’s house, Isaac feels a knot form in his stomach. It’s not that he doesn’t love his aunt—it’s just that Meredith’s place represents the reality he’s been trying to avoid. The responsibility, the expectations, everything that’s been weighing on him.

Logan knocks on the door, and Isaac leans against the car, staring at the ground. He knows Meredith will open the door with that calm expression of hers, but beneath it, he also knows she’ll be disappointed in him.

The door swings open after a few seconds, and Meredith stands there, her eyes scanning Isaac with a look of concern that only makes him feel worse.

“What happened?” she asks, her voice sharp but with an underlying gentleness.

“He’s drunk,” Logan says, a mix of frustration and worry in his voice. “He needs a place to sleep it off. We’re not going back to his house tonight.”

Meredith’s gaze softens as she looks at Isaac, who can barely meet her eyes. He’s already feeling small under her gaze.

“You’re welcome to stay here, Isaac,” Meredith says, stepping aside to let them in. “But this isn’t going to solve anything. You need to get it together, and I mean now.”

Isaac shrugs, trying to act nonchalant, but the weight of Meredith’s words hits him hard. He doesn’t argue as Logan leads him inside and guides him to the couch.

Meredith doesn’t waste any time. She sets a glass of water in front of Isaac, along with a blanket, her eyes full of disappointment but also concern. She sits on the armchair across from him, her arms crossed, waiting for him to say something.

Isaac stares down at his hands, not sure where to begin. He knows he’s messed up, that he’s pushing people away, but he doesn’t know how to stop it. The pressure, the anger, it all feels like too much to carry on his own.

“Isaac,” Meredith begins softly, her voice gentle but firm, “you don’t have to be like him. Your dad’s mistakes don’t have to be yours.”

Isaac clenches his jaw, his chest tight. He wants to yell, to argue, but all that comes out is a shaky breath. “I’m scared, Meredith,” he admits quietly, the words coming out of him before he even realizes it. “Scared I’m going to end up just like him.”

Meredith’s eyes soften, and she leans forward, her voice quieter now. “You don’t have to be afraid of that, Isaac. You can choose something different. It’s going to be hard, but you’re not alone in this.”

Logan stands nearby, watching the exchange, his face unreadable but clearly supportive. Isaac looks between them both, feeling the weight of their concern. They don’t want him to fail. They’re not giving up on him, even when he feels like he’s given up on himself.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” Isaac mutters,