Don't ask me what I'm doing. I don't even know.
Beacon Hills remained in an odd exhaust following the kitsune attacks, draining the town of its usual liveliness, and it was as if everyone could physically see the dusky ashes in which covered their town. Students trotted into Beacon Hills High School with sullen expressions, the chilling sensation of death and malevolent forces weighed them down. The teachers cast shifty eyes now and then, waiting for the moment that they were no longer safe, the moment where an evil entity would declare themselves and shove a hunting knife down their throats. New arrivals looked at the ward with slinted eyes, curiously glaring down the depressive student body and that eerie, palpable sense that terror had just struck. But this wasn't unusual, this wasn't anything new. This was just another Monday at Beacon Hills.
Slow hands trembled while opening their locker combinations. One pair of hands, in particular, proved to be slightly more twitchy than most as it fumbled with the combination they had thought was perfected in freshman year. He knocked his head against the cool metal just once, sinking into the feeling of emptiness that had been haunting him since last year. Other students had heard horror stories, had discussed their sympathetic comments with their friends, but he had to live through it - he had initiated it. He should've stayed home, he thought suddenly. He loved his friends; Scott, Lydia, Isaac, Kira, Malia - hell, even Liam sometimes, but he lacked the energy to participate in their "We Have A Problem" discussions that would inevitably ensue during their lunch period.
He began walking towards the front doors. Everyone had sick days, he figured. It's completely normal for him to need a mental health day, especially for someone with as many problems and post-traumatic stress as him. He had almost made it outside, too.
"Stiles!" He paused. Any other day he would've been ecstatic to hear this voice, his face would contort into a twisted kind of happiness and his arms would do a sort of twitchy awkward dance in surprise. Today, he just wished that it had been anyone else that caught him in the act. Slowly, he turned to face her.
"Lydia," He replied calmly. She flipped her strawberry blonde hair over her shoulders in that kind of I'm going to investigate this situation sort of way. He was displeased with himself as he looked down at her now, no longer feeling so anxious in her presence as he once was. She was supposed to be his anchoring back to reality, back into familiar feelings of hope and togetherness.
"Where the hell are you going?" She asked, folding her arms across her chest. The stark contrast of her bright green dress with her fiery hair made his eyes pop. She looked determined, in the usual Lydia Martin aspect, with pursed pink lips and a jutted hip. He sighed, already feeling himself begin to spill the truth. Damn banshee intuition.
"Let's just say it's not a good day for me. You of all people should understand." He mentioned. Lydia's increasing "sick" days certainly had not become lost on the pack. A significant piece of her heart died along with her best friend all those months ago. She could feel the emptiness as well as anyone else, she just had a better way of hiding it. Her eyes slinted.
"Does Scott know?" She asked. He stifled the incredulous groan that had nearly clawed it's way through his mouth. He loved his best friend more than anyone in the world, but lately, it's been apparent that he can't step two feet away without reporting back to him. His life didn't feel like just his anymore like it was shared amongst a pack of people. He shook his head.
"Don't tell Scott. Please, Lydia." He begged. She turned up her nose haughtily but silently agreed to help him. There were some things that Scott didn't need to know, he already had enough troubles as it was.
"Just don't expect no one to start trying to find you once they realize you're missing. I can hold back Scott, but Malia might resort to using her claws," said Lydia. He almost smiled. It progressed.
As he walked out of the school, he noticed an unfamiliar car pulled up in front, with new faces along with it. More people to add into the mix of chaos, he predicted. It was a girl and what looked to be her older sister. Stiles could hear them as he walked into the parking lot.
"It's a new school, not the end of the world." The older looking one said. She placed a manicured hand carefully onto the girl's shoulder.
"I know, but...don't you think something is off here? You don't feel that?" The younger one asked in a much softer voice. Stiles didn't get to see her face, she turned towards the school and was replaced by a mass of thick, brunette hair.
"Feel what?"
Stiles didn't stick around to understand what the new girl meant. He hurried along to his broken down, blue-green Jeep; his only constant in life, it seemed. At least, when his car broke down he could predict that it would. And he could fix it.
Stiles never was one to stray too far from the crowd, he knew that the extrovert in him needed to feed on other's energy, but tonight he had to satisfy his inner introvert. It only happened a rare amount of times where he needed to seclude himself where no one - not even Scott McCall- could find him and it was the perfect spot. Just on the outskirts of town, before entering the most scandalous part of California, where women prowled in party dresses and cameras flashed on every corner, there was a lone shop, one that you would need to look twice at before noticing that it was there in the first place. It was an old little place owned by a woman named Kelly, a beautiful middle-aged mother. The rare times that he did walk in, she would sometimes tell him that he reminded her of her son, Matthew. He didn't know if it were because he liked having a mother figure have an interest in him or because he was lonely, but he loved every minute of consoling in her.
He arrived in the shop as it was bustling with customers, which, if you knew the shop, meant about five or six people. He parked his Jeep on the dirt beside the place. It wasn't located on an actual foundation with a parking lot, just sitting there between grass, trees, and the road. Easy to forget, which was exactly what he needed. Before getting out, he made sure to leave his phone in the car. He knew that if he saw Scott calling, he'd have to answer it, it was like an uncontrollable tick.
It was a small place, but extremely homely. The sign atop of the roof read: Victoria's, in a chipped pastel pink against the white background. The windows displayed pink designs of tea cups on each window and the door had the name of it once again. He didn't hesitate in opening the door. The charmed ring of bells chimed above his head, alerting the entire shop of his arrival. Behind the counter, Kelly turned her head to face the door and then smiled. Stiles headed straight towards the counter and sat on the blue stool.
"Stilinski. It's never good news when you walk in here. You alright, kid?" She asked, wiping the counter in the meanwhile. He looked up at her and smiled. She had a certain glow about her that compelled you to smile along with her, laugh with her. Her brunette hair matched his in every aspect and it gave him a fleeting thought that she would've been a great mother to him. Tossing the thought aside, he rested his head upon the counter and peered up at her through heavy eyelids.
"You ever feel...empty?" He asked. Kelly paused, then tossed the rag to the side. She leaned down to his level and frowned.
"Empty like I'm missing something or empty like there's nothing there to begin with?" She asked. Stiles thought about it for a few seconds. Kelly was patient.
"Empty like something's been stolen from you." He sighed, loving the cool feeling of the marble on his cheek. Kelly smiled to herself, a sad kind of smile that you'd only expect to see on grandparents when they reminisced about their lives. Stiles hadn't the slightest clue what happened in her life, but it looked like it hurt.
"I had my entire life stolen from me, Stiles. What's going on with you?" She asked. Stiles sat up at her first statement, but she looked adamant to ignore it altogether. He sighed again.
"Let's just say, I miss feeling complete," He said. Kelly squeezed his shoulder, then pat his cheek.
"This calls for the double fudge sundae with whipped cream." He immediately began reaching into his pockets. "Don't worry, kid, it's on the house." She stopped him. He smiled and muttered a quick thank you before she rushed to the back in the kitchen. His head fell back to the counter.
He wished he could vent to her about the Nogustine possessing him, making him do things that he'd never dream of doing. She had a way about her that made his problems seem so minuscule that sometimes he even believed it. She was so sweet, so nice, so warm and friendly, like...
Allison.
That was his real problem. How could he live with himself knowing that he's the reason why Allison Argent is dead? He rid the world of one of the best people to ever grace his rundown little town. His best friend's first love. Lydia's best friend. Isaac's almost-girlfriend. He had so much grief inside of him and nowhere to place it. He tried crying, in every place he could think of, his bedroom, his kitchen, his shower, his backyard, the school bathroom - his sadness never let up and he still felt half-dead inside.
Kelly sat his sundae down in front of him with a pink spoon. He started eating immediately, stuffing his face with ice cream, anything to make himself feel better.
"When I was your age, my mother walked out on me." Kelly began, perching herself on one of the stools she had behind the counter. "No explanation, really, she just left. I was stuck with my father who, let me tell you, was not too kind on letting me feel complete. I never felt complete. I had a drinking problem. I..." Her eyes clouded over. "I did something very wrong and I'll always regret it. I had my childhood stolen from me, Stiles. That wasn't easy for me. But you, you have so many years to get it right. Through everything, through the heartbreak and absolute torture of emptiness, I learned something." She said. Stiles stopped eating, focusing on her words. "If you don't forgive yourself, you will never move on with your life. You can't sit here moping. You shouldn't be sitting here talking to some old lady, kid. You should be out there searching for that piece of yourself that's missing, whether it be in someone else or an activity. You can't eat that sundae your whole life. If you want it, you have the courage and the strength to go out there and get it for yourself."
Stiles smiled. He wishes it were as simple as she was putting it, but there was no way he'd ever fill the void inside of him. Still, he continued to be impressed by Kelly with every visit.
"Why is your son never in here?" He asked after the silence that had ensued from her speech. There was something that seemed off about her then, something that gave away that she was uncomfortable with the question, a tick or a reflex. She hid it all with a smile.
"He's busy," She put simply.
Stiles knew that there was more that she wasn't telling him, but he left it as it was. She respected his silence, so he'd respect hers. For a long moment, he allowed the comforting grip of serenity latch onto him and embrace him like an old friend would. Kelly was busying herself with tending to the needs of other customers and answering phone calls. He busied himself with challenging one of the old regulars in the cafe in an intense game of chess that took nearly two hours, mostly because Stiles refused to lose at chess to someone old enough to be his great-grandfather. Then, he volunteered to help Kelly clean up around the shop. He knew she didn't have much help from anyone else. No one would willingly agree to work in such a place, outside of town and outside of the city. There were practically in the middle of nowhere, where civilization passed through to get towards the next point. Kelly was gracious enough to slide him a crisp twenty in his hand as he passed her by. He didn't deserve someone as amazing as Kelly.
"Were you born in Beacon Hills?" He asked once they had settled down again. She shook her head.
"North Carolina. Then, I moved to Virginia. Now, I'm here." She explained. Stiles twisted his face. From Virginia to California with no explanation? It almost seemed as if she were running from something.
"In the worst town in California. You were probably better off in Virginia." He muttered. Her look suggested otherwise.
"My husband used to speak so fondly of Beacon Hills. He went to your school, you know. He said it was one of the best experiences of his life, said the people were nice. So far, he hasn't been wrong. This place is full of nice people and nice families. You don't know how good you have it, Stiles." Said Kelly. He scoffed. "I'm serious. At least, your heart is still pounding, Stilinski."
Stiles made a mental note of her words and how easily they flowed from her mouth.
At least, your heart is still pounding, Stilinski.
He knew those words would linger through the back of his mind for years to come. This woman was like a free therapist.
"Is your middle name Victoria?" He asked. She chuckled, then shook her head, green eyes sparkling as if she got the question all the time.
"Victoria is my daughter. She died a few years ago. She was eighteen, but would've been twenty-five this year." She mentioned. "And I'm sure she would prefer it if I had addressed her as Vicky."
"I'm...I'm so sorry. If you don't mind me asking, how -"
"Murder. They, um, found her body washed up along the river of Mystic Falls. She had a giant wound in her torso like she'd had a piece of wood pushed right through her. No one ever reopened that case. No need to, I suppose." She muttered. Stiles fiddled with his hands. It reminded him of Alison.
"And you're okay with not knowing who would want to murder your daughter? Why did they want to do it? What their intentions were?" He questioned.
"Of course not. Had I known that, I'd be subjected to a revenge plot. My daughter is dead. Nothing left to do about it but grieve and try to move on with my life, what little is left of it." She told him. He frowned, placing his head back down on the counter.
"You're a good woman, Kelly." He complimented. If only his father could meet someone like her. They'd have the greatest family game nights.
He couldn't tell when, but his eyes closed on their own as he daydreamed more scenarios.
One in which him, Kelly, and his dad was sharing popcorn at the movie theater. Another in which Kelly stayed up with his father, helping him sort through piles of cases. Maybe his father could help her find out what happened to her daughter the day she was murdered. Maybe she'd meet Ms. McCall and become best friends with her, set up days to drink wine and bitch about him and Scott all night. Maybe Allison could somehow regenerate and come back to life, so everything could go back to normal and he wouldn't have to feel like human garbage. Since he was bringing people back to life, maybe his real mother could regenerate along with Allison. He knew she'd like Kelly as much as he did, they were so similar. Maybe Erica and Boyd could come back to life, too. He could go back to the start when things weren't so damn difficult.
A loud 'bang' scared him awake. Kelly's hand was placed firmly on the counter beside his resting head. He turned, confused. The sky was dark and lit with a half moon and constellations of stars. It felt like he had only rested for one second rather - he glanced at the clock above Kelly - five hours. He shook himself out of his haziness and thanked Kelly for letting him stay for so long.
"See you next time, kiddo. Remember what I said." She waved. He waved back.
"Couldn't forget it if I tried." And oh, he would try.
He raced back into his car and started the engine. His phone rang. Right, he forgot he left it on the seat. The screen read: Malia. He sighed, then swiped the screen to answer.
"Stiles, you idiot! You think you can just take vacations without saying anything to anyone?" She yelled. He pulled the phone from his ear until he was sure she'd stop yelling.
"Malia, calm down."
"You left me here all by myself!" There was a scoff in the background. "Okay, fine, with Scott. I'm not good with people, Stiles, and I need you to hold me back when I get the urge to rip out someone's jugular!" Malia continued on with her rant.
"That's very descriptive, Malia."
"Thank you, I learned it in Anatomy."
"Don't worry, I'm on my way back right now. Tell Scott he can stop pacing." Stiles said. Malia whispered in the background for Scott to stop pacing around the room. "Where are you two?" He asked.
"I'm in Scott's room. He's having a temper tantrum because he hasn't seen his boyfriend in, like, fifteen hours." Malia giggled. In the background, he could hear Scott arguing with her over the phone. "Speaking of which, your special someone wants to speak with you." He could hear her hand over the phone.
"Scott, before you start with me, let me just say this -"
"Are you alright?"
"-I'm sorry for taking off so...wait. What'd you say?"
"Stiles, are you doing alright?" He repeated the question. Stiles had a small smile traced over his lips. He didn't know why he had expected some kind of lecture about the importance of a pack staying together or even a short scold for being M.I.A, but this was surprising.
"Yeah. Of course. Just went out to get a sundae." He answered. Scott let out a relieved sigh.
"That's all I wanted to know. See you when you get back, bro." He ended the call. Stiles smiled as he dropped his phone and began driving his car out of the grass and into the road.
The roads were unusually calm at this time of day. He was afraid he'd get caught in the hectic traffic of cars trying to get home from work and school. Instead, he was thankfully met with only a few other cars going in the same direction as him. It was turning out to be an okay day, he even bopped his head along to a top 40's hit on his way to his house. His father wasn't home yet, so he dragged himself into his room and thanked God Malia wasn't there to smother him with affection. He still needed time to himself. It somehow made him wonder what she was doing at this time in Scott's bedroom.
Probably nothing. He and Kira seemed to be headed towards something serious - whatever it might be.
He went to sleep that night with one irritating thought that he would soon to be getting used to.
At least, your heart is still pounding, Stilinski.
I started writing and this is what happened, so I thought I should share it.
Not that you all care. I've never written Teen Wolf before, please don't judge me so harshly lol.