"I don't know, I just never really think about it." I admit keeping my stare focused on the dashboard in front of me. Stiles jerks his head over at me then furrows his eyebrows. I'm not sure if he was confused about what I had just said – or surprised.
"You – well – I…what do you mean you never think about it?" He asks stumbling over his words. "I mean…not even once?" He continued. I shrug then advert my eyes from the dashboard and move them toward my fingers and start picking at my freshly painted nails.
"I'm not the type to mourn over things, Stiles…" I tell him as I hold my breath. I finally look up at him, but stare at the birth marks on his face father than his eyes. He opens his mouth up to say something but then closes it instantly then turns his head over at the steering wheel.
"You don't have to be the 'type' to mourn over things just to think about them." He states griping his hands tightly on the steering wheel. I can instantly tell he's thinking about his mother. I can feel the tears burning up behind my eyes but I'm trying to hold them in as long as I can.
"I didn't mean it that way, Stiles…and you know it." I reply.
"You don't have to mean it in a way for someone to understand what you really were trying to say." Stiles whispers keeping his eyes locked on the wheel. We both sit there in silence for a few minutes until I say, "It'd be nice if you could take me home now."
Before turning on the engine Stiles give me a blank stare then sits back slightly in his chair. "It'd be nice if you would talk about your feelings once in a while…" He retorts as we drive out of the woods.
I scoff shaking my head, "Really, Stiles? When was the last time you've talked about your feelings?" I can feel him tense up in his seat and my eyes fly over to him. "And there's a reason why I come out here when I'm…'not' thinking." I continue. "Do you think I want my parents asking me what's wrong? Do you think I want to bring up Tyler to them? To make them feel like shit for letting him out in the middle of the night? Make things worse for them?"
"Then I guess you don't have to ask me why I don't talk about my feelings either do we?" Stiles mutters. I swallow hard then start picking at my nails again. Again we sit in silence for a few more minutes as Stiles drives, and I turn my head even farther away from his so he can't see the tears that have dared to make their way onto my cheeks. I hated thinking about Tyler probably just as much as Stiles hated thinking about his mom.
Finally we made it to my house. The tears have dried up so I actually urge myself to look at Stiles and tell him goodbye then I hop out of his jeep and make my way into my house. My mom and dad are sitting at the dinner table doing some paper work and ask me where I've been. I tell them I was at the library studying with Stiles. I can't mention the woods to them; it'd ruin my whole process.
As I make it up to my room I go to throw off my jacket only to realize I took it off in Stiles' jeep when he offered to drive me home. Shit. I think to myself. When is the next time I'm going to be in his car to get that thing back? And it's not like I can just go right up to him and ask for it – because one, he wouldn't just give it right back to me, and two, it doesn't work that way. It's complicated with Stiles and I. He makes me work for things, ya'know? Which is why I love him…he knows if he wasn't there pushing me I'd probably be some loner that never goes to school and thinks about death 24/7.
A little while later I fall asleep on my bed, in my regular clothes before I even eat dinner, and I'm awaken by a dream where Tyler is blaming my parents for his death, and my parents are blaming me, and wishing that I was the one that had died, and by the time I'm awake I can feel the tears that are non-stop falling down my face and I stop my screaming. I try to catch my breath as I wipe the tears away. Just then there's a knock on my door, I jump slightly and bite my bottom lip and manage to croak a 'come in' out.
I'm expecting to see my mom or my dad coming in asking me why they heard screaming, but instead I find a Stiles with a tear stained face, and he's holding my jacket. He walks into the room shutting the door behind me and sniffs slightly gently placing the jacket on my bed then sits down next to me. We sit there in silence for about a half an hour until I whimper out his name and he wraps me into a big warm hug and just whispers, "I know, I know." Into my shoulder as we sob together.
And for the first time since Tyler died…I didn't feel so alone.