Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Teen Wolf, but I would love me some Tyler Posey, Tyler Hoechlin and Dylan O'Brien. Oh yes, I would. And, I'm British, so if some of the jargon is different, I am sorry, but I have never been to America and know nothing of the speech. Also, I know next to nothing about the traditions in Japan or Ireland, but I'm going to guess. Please, don't take offence. Thank you, enjoy my story, and have a great day.

Lilac POV

"Thank you for flying Miami Airways. We are about 40 minutes from landing so please, wait until the vehicle has come to a stop, and the green button above the intercom is lit, then you can make your way out of the plane, and gather your belonging. Have a nice day."

Yeah, yeah, yeah. 'Have a nice day?' What I wouldn't give to have one of those, but thanks to the Gods, I can't. I needed to do this, no matter how much I really didn't want to be here. I hated Beacon Hills; the sight, the smell, the people, the animals. Heck, I even hated the fucking trees, and they haven't done shit to me. I used to live in this back water town, but I had to leave. The memories were too… painful for me to recall.

Come on Lily, breathe in, exhale, then repeat.

That seems to be how I'm spending majority of my time now, just breathing. I'm not living, I don't enjoy my life, I can go so far as to say I hated it, but I knew things could be worse. Now that would be tragic. Thinking like this wasn't going to get me anywhere, except for sitting in the middle of a stinking motel bed, with a bottle of Jack Daniels in my left hand and a cigarette in my right. I tried to stop smoking, it doesn't help me in any way, but I developed it, out of a nervous habit I picked up, from him. My heart skipped a beat, simply thinking of him. His brilliantly green eyes, and charming, demure smile. No, stop it Lily, you're just going to make it worse for yourself. Breathe in, exhale, repeat. Good. Again.

I pulled off the fluffy, black eye mask with the words 'Do Not Disturb' in golden thread, I had been wearing, and stuffed it in the over night back I had brought onboard with me. I took out a make-up wipe and scrubbed the dirt and sweat that must have caked my face from the late-night crying I had been partaking in, and threw it in the flip-out trashcan opposite me. I pulled out a miniature mirror out of the small zip-up bag and checked on my reflection. Wow, I was not looking good. My hair had been throw up in a messy bun, and now, after tossing and turning in my light sleep, now it was loose and hanging limply out of the hair-tie. The bags above and below my deep green eyes made me look akin to a zombie, and my skin looked pale and sickly. I knew I shouldn't have thought about D-him.

If I kept going about it like this, I was going to send myself insane. Yes, I missed him. Yes, I was broken hearted. No, I didn't want to see him, and hope to God that he had left long ago. No, he probably hadn't, but a girl can pray, right? I took a sip of the bottle of now lukewarm water that was seated in the cup holder on my right, and flexed my legs, stretching them a bit. I clicked my back and my knuckles, releasing some tension in my shoulders and neck by rolling it a few times. I really should get changed, shouldn't I? I looked down at the fluffy pyjamas I had changed into about 40 minutes into the five hour flight, and decided to change. I looked around to see half the passengers asleep and the other half more or less brain dead, so I decided to change in my seat.

As quiet as possible, I stood, carrying my backpack in my left hand, and holding my bottle of water in my right and opened the small cubicle they called a bathroom. I mean seriously, this looks like a storage closet you'd find in a school. I set my backpack on top of the closed lid of the toilet and zipped it open, pulling out clean underwear, a pair of tight black leggings and a cropped, black and white Aztec styled bralet. My leather jacket was seated in the open seat beside me. I pulled my hair out of the bun with caution, and combed it out, as softly as possible, catching many knots and wincing as I did. My hair was a far cry from straight, so I did the only thing I could, and that was plait it to the left side, and hold the ends with the elastic I used to put it in a bun. I liked how my hair looked now.

The day I had left Beacon Hills, I walked into the nearest hairdressers and asked for a drastic change. My hair had been a wavy brown, and reached just past my shoulders, and the lady who had been assigned me seemed almost pained to dye and cut it, but I was sure. I needed to change who I was, and what I looked like, even if it was only a little. I didn't want any reminders. So she cut it 2 inches higher, and bleached it blonde. I loved it. But over the last 3 years, it grew out, reaching past my waist line, and I thought about dyeing the ends. My middle name was Ao, meaning blue in Japanese, so I took that as a bit of inspiration and went with dip-dyeing it an electric blue. it's a shock to the system, but after a while, you get used to the colour. I liked it, but it did take a lot of maintenance.

After this, I turned the tap on, pulled out my tooth brush and brushed my teeth, furiously, with the small amount of toothpaste I had brought along with me. I splashed some water on my face, towel dried it and my hands, and pulled out my make-up bag. I threw on a little bit of mascara and made the top liner look akin to cat eyes. I put on a bit of nude lip gloss and used some bronzer to make my cheeks look a little bit more alive. For airplane-chic, I looked pretty decent. I took a step back to admire my work, and honestly, I think Laura would be proud. Oh shit. I wasn't meant to think about them, I really wasn't. I always ended up in floods of tears, and looking a mess.

I stopped, and took in a deep, satisfying breath, calming myself down, and then proceeded to pack away all the shit I had just taken out. A sad smile crept up my face, and I knew I had tears in my eyes, so I just closed them. Over the years, breathing had become something that I had to work on. The pain behind each intake would almost floor me, and sometimes I wanted to die. Other times, it was hard to fall asleep. I would always dream of their faces, and one by one, they would always disappear on me. I pulled my Ray Ban, black, thick framed glasses case out of my bag, and slid them onto my face. It wasn't that I couldn't see, but it's just that my sight wasn't completely 20/20.

I zipped the backpack back up, and threw it over my shoulder, and walked back to my seat, with only purple and white stripy socks adorning my feet. My black and white Converse were seated under my seat. I threw my backpack, carelessly, into the empty seat next to me, and sat, rather unladylike, in the plush seat. There was only a few minutes until we were landing and I was ready to leave, so I slipped on my leather jacket, and my Converse whilst I gathered everything I had brought aboard with me; my backpack and my overnight bag, and sat, patiently, in my seat, taking a sip of water and staring out of the window, at the city below me.

Beacon Hills, California. Get ready, because we're in for a bumpy ride.