Scott sat on his bed, his hands supporting the weight of his head. Tears streamed off of his face and onto the hardwood floor of his bedroom. All he could think was why Allison?
Out of all the people to ever die- to die in his arms... Allison.
His first love.
Allison.
She was the only one to increase the beat of his heart. The only one who could make his palms sweaty from nervousness. She was the only one to make him smile so big that it physically hurt. His anchor is gone, and never to return.
He imagined them settling down after all of this was over- have three kids, all happy and smiling. The war would be over. Stiles would come visit with Lydia and their kids. They would have barbecues. Watch their kids grow up like they did- minus the fights and all the threats- finnish high school. Go to college. Allison and him would retire- maybe somewhere woodsy. They would each die of old age, in each others arms... He imagined all of this before.
He got one thing right though. She did in fact die in his arms. He wished at that moment that he would have died as well.
And now his dream was gone. No more was the smiling kids. The barbecues. The visits from Uncle Stiles and Aunt Lydia.
The love of his life was gone- and he couldn't protect her. Save her.
He broke his promise- he couldn't be there in time.
His dream was gone. And so was Allison.