f o u r
Ky awoke to the sound of someone mowing their lawn outside and one of her grandparents cooking downstairs. The sound of sizzle and the scent of stir-fry wafted upward. She looked at her clock. 11:37am already. She reached a hand over her childhood bedroom to shut the window, before massaging her neck to deter an ensuing headache. Winced at the burning sensation that this movement caused. Remembered that she'd been knocked off her bike by a car last night.
Remembered the trip to the hospital- and how Stiles had driven them there and then home. Oh, god. buried her face in her pillow out of embarrassment, racking her memories for anything specifically hard to come back from. Despite the residual pains, she sat up straight upon remembering the rest of last night's events, including the parking lot conversation. Did she play it off well enough?
The slow realization that there was in fact something to play off crept in. Ky had relegated any past experiences of- well, feeling what others could feel... as a figment of imagination, or a symptom of anxiety, or an overactive attention span. That was what she had initially believed, what the school psychologist had said, and what the internet informed, respectively. And it hadn't been a major bother or concern in the last seven years, so maybe that really was all it was. Just some sort of imagined awareness at best, or waking dream at worst. Either way, it had faded with the other childhood memories made in Beacon Hills.
Well, until now.
Ky sighed and pushed herself upright, before reaching for the sketchbook and pen on her nightstand. Flipping to a fresh page, she started absentmindedly doodling. A wheel, then two, then the metal frame. The lost bike- which might still be by the road. But it was too far to walk in this state. Maybe she could get someone to drive her. Maybe Stiles?
The memories of last night drifted back more clearly now. Someone must have felt nauseous at the hospital- maybe it was the patient in the next room. That was why it had hit her so strongly. And then there was the razor-sharp focus that emanated off of Stiles Stilinski, from the moment he drove up to the moment she shut the door of his jeep. The uncertainty that ebbed off of her grandmother last night. The tense atmosphere of the hospital- sure, it was how most people would feel about it, but probably not so viscerally.
Ky had learned to manage this empath-like ability (yet another internet- informed term; the closest to what she could find, although it never seemed to affect others quite so strongly) in Beacon Hills years ago, and was already automatically remembering the makeshift rules now. Stay away from people. Pay attention to who's feeling what; sort the emotions out as best you can. Relieve pain where possible, because their pain is quite literally your pain. These were the things she'd instinctively learned and never really put words to as a kid, and then never had a use for again until now.
It was as if the peaceful, average time spent in San Francisco between then and now were surreal, compared to whatever this heightened experience was. Like a dream that lacked colour or felt muted. It was here that she could perfectly recall the green of the trees surrounding her even as she laid on the pavement last night, the deeper timbre of Stiles's voice later on, the intricacies of everything people were feeling underneath the surface, all the time.
Holy shit. She'd never put this into words before.
Was this happening more strongly than before?
Was she going crazy?
Ky shook her head, blinked away the thought. No; crazy was when nothing matched up and you couldn't trust your senses. Everything she had ever felt, albeit without understanding how or why, was accurate. If nothing else, this was what she could trust.
The headache grew, with all this thinking. She yawned, stretched, and got up to brush her teeth and go downstairs. Maybe breakfast would help.
In the kitchen, her grandmother was indeed cooking up lunch. "You're awake," she said, glancing over carefully. "How're you feeling?"
"Not bad, considering all things. Where's grandpa?" she asked, nudging her shoulder affectionately as she passed by to grab the bread and marmalade from the fridge. She sat at the kitchen island to toast the bread.
"Went out to get a paper. Don't eat too much, it's lunchtime. I can't believe drivers these days. Idiots."
"Yea, I know," Ky agreed. The toast popped up; she spreaded a quick swipe of marmalade and munched on it, accordingly. "Are we waiting for him?"
Her grandmother laughed. "Hungry, then?"
"Starving."
"Of course you are, it's almost noon. Well, I don't think he'll be back by then so let's eat first."
After preparing lunch- rice bowls with stir-fry beef and veggies- the women, one young, one old, sat down at the wooden dining table to eat. They ate in silence for a few moments, before Ky's grandmother cleared her throat. Ky could feel anticipation from her, but couldn't understand why. Or was that her own anticipation? One of the more frustrating parts of empath-like abilities; not being able to tell.
"Kai-Kai," she said hesitantly, using her Chinese nickname. "Yesterday before the accident… did anything strange happen?"
"Strange?" Her heartbeat rose. What if her grandmother knew something? She couldn't remember if she'd ever complained or cried about this as a kid- the memories seemed blurred, somehow. There had been too much to feel… and definitely too much to keep in mind.
Her grandmother sighed and seemed to decide not to beat around the bush. "What others feel.. you can feel it too, right?"
Ky froze, chopsticks midair. It was the question she'd had for herself for years, now released into the open air. She looked up slowly at her grandmother, who was watching her expectantly. Kindly. Understandingly.
"How did you know?"
"I'm the same way."
"Oh my god," Ky said in English, unable to believe it. Then she laughed shakily. "Oh, my god. Thank god. Wait, so I'm not, like- I mean, this… it's real? Not just…" She pointed to her head, fumbling for words. It was times like these where the loss of her mother tongue showed.
Her grandmother laughed too. Shook her head. "No, it's as real as it feels. Emotions always are."
She went on to talk about how she had believed this ability would die with her, how she'd never met anyone else with it and no one in the family seemed to understand when she used to try and explain. Her grandmother, so Ky's great-great grandmother… seemed to possess the same ability but never spoke too much of it. These things just got you called crazy back then, she said. Besides, the beloved matriarch had died before Ky's grandmother realized that this wasn't what every average person experienced.
"And when none of the kids seemed to experience anything out of the norm, I thought that was that," she finished, blinking back into the present. "Hm. I wonder if it skips generations."
"What a way to keep us isolated and alone," Ky said, mind reeling as she tried to catch up.
"Ha! I suppose so." Ky asked if her grandfather knew about this, but her grandmother shook her head and said she hadn't told anyone. "But that's enough about me," she said casually, waving away. Curiosity grew in the air, which Ky guessed they could both feel. Huh. "What happened yesterday, really?"
"Mm… The driver was arguing with someone. They were angry, enough to like, blind me with it. As if it was an attack. Which is silly. Or more like a wave," Ky corrected, frowning at the memory. "But it's never been so strong like that before. As if it was projecting. I can usually handle it."
"It's because of your age," her grandmother explained knowingly. "As soon as you hit sixteen, it gets more intense. And it's also because you're here. In town again."
"I knew it! There's something about this place specifically, right? Because when I left, it was like everything went back to normal. Well, I might have felt a bit more than usual, but other than that… it was like I could feel my own emotions for once..." She trailed off, thinking.
Her grandmother nodded, amused at Ky's satisfaction. "Mei Guo," she said. America.
"But it was never as … vibrant? Lively? It didn't feel as real." She didn't mention the context that went along with this; the sort of numbness that life had become in comparison, even with the relief that most of the emotions coursing through her were now her own. After years of feeling what others had felt, beginning to understand these was a challenge in itself.
"Something about this town called me here when I first arrived, and leaving it feels exactly how you explained," Ky's grandmother said thoughtfully. "That's why I didn't want to move away even if it meant being away from you guys again." She grimaced. "But it was a hard decision."
"Right, yea." Tight-knit. Last night's conversation came back to mind. "It's okay. We understood," she reassured her. "Well, I guess not exactly, but… it makes sense now."
They went on to talk about what it was like to have empathic abilities- Ky told her about what she'd read online about the topic, and her grandmother was amazed as a result. After, she asked her how she'd managed as a kid and Ky realized that her childhood anxiety was both her own and multiplied by that of others, which was likely why she kept to herself. Her grandmother warned against being near people who were draining, at least for the next year; we absorb other people's emotions far too well, she said. Put up a mental wall, instead. Meditate. Keep your own emotions in sight, even if it feels like a losing fight to do so. Ky realized that sketching was what kept her grounded- the activity that roots you, her grandmother described. For her, it was cooking. Whatever, to keep the outer mind busy enough to process actual happenings.
By the end of the meal, Ky had been 'assigned' the practice of imagining a mental wall, or block in her mind to help keep guard against emotions. There would be more waves now that the first one had occurred, her grandmother warned; just like the anger from last night… she'd find that they'd be more nuanced and it'd be easier to understand the complexity in time, too. But for now, she was like an activated magnet who needed to learn to reflect. To repel. To find a way back to neutrality.
When her grandfather came home for his late lunch, he brought back gauze and apples from the store. "Are you alright?" he asked seriously.
Ky nodded. "It looks worse than it is."
But when she went to peel back the day-old gauze, it was an unfortunate bloody mess of surface cuts and scrapes. Like a skinned knee except it was her entire shin. The arm was better, less scraped-up. It would take more time than she anticipated to heal, though. The single packet of gauze was small; enough for a few days, but she would need more.
Under the heavy not-really-a-choice-in-this suggestion from both grandparents, Ky spent the remainder of the day at home, drawing and watching TV. It wasn't until after dinner in the early evening that she insisted on going out for a walk to the convenience store nearby for more bandages. To be honest, it was really just an excuse to escape the well-meaning yet mildly overbearing atmosphere.
As Ky was searching for a nickel to make it easier for the cashier to make change, a familiar presence came from behind. "Here, I got one," Stiles said, placing the coin on the counter.
"Weirdly good timing," she noted, glancing back at him with a raised eyebrow. She grinned. "Again. But thanks."
He held up his hands in defense, one of which was holding a slushie. "I just had a craving. It is weird timing though, I'll admit."
"Here you go," the cashier said, interrupting them and nudging the supplies towards Ky. She stepped to the side for Stiles to pay for his drink, and slipped her stuff into her tote bag.
She eyed his drink. "Damn. Okay, can I get one of those too?"
"$2.50."
"Aha. Good choice," Stiles said, grinning.
"Oh, shut up."
In the parking lot just outside the store, they sat on the curb and enjoyed the cold drinks. "So, how're your wounds?" Stiles asked, eyes brushing over her leg. She felt tiredness from him. Wondered if he'd slept well.
"Not the best, but not the worst." She shrugged.
"That's good."
"Yea." Awkward silence. "So, I guess parking lots are our thing now," she joked. He laughed.
"Apparently so."
More silence. Ky remembered her bike. "Oh, so there's something I wanted to ask."
"Shoot."
"Okay, so I know we're not really close friends-"
"I'm hurt, but go on."
She rolled her eyes. "Well, you know what I mean." She smiled at the reaction, regardless. What a day. "We're not good enough friends for me to ask you for this favor so you can totally say no," she said quickly, "but... I was wondering if you were free sometime this week? To drive me down to that spot off the road from yesterday. I just wanna see if my bike's still down there."
"Yea, sure," he said easily, surprising her. "Do you wanna go tomorrow? Someone probably swiped it though."
"I know." She smiled sadly. "But I just wanna check. Tomorrow would be great. I owe you, big time."
"I'll hold you to it." He grinned. "This bike is pretty important to you, huh?"
Ky sipped on her drink, the cold flavors of artificial raspberry and blueberry tingling on the tongue. "I guess you could say that. I've just had it for a long time. And it was a gift from my dad, so. You know."
"Ah, yea." He nodded towards the direction of his jeep. "She didn't exactly give it to me, but that car was my mom's."
"Nice." And then in disbelief, "You drove here?"
"Uh, maybe?"
"It's like, a ten minute walk."
"... It's two if you drive?"
They bantered about the environment, making elaborate, nonsensical cases for their decisions. It was easy, fun conversation just like that one week in camp, years ago. Ky hadn't known if they could still talk like this.
"Okay, okay, I'll... bring my own bags next time," he conceded, before taking a sip of his slushie. Ky laughed and then sighed, reveling in the peace and quiet. The parking lot was nearly empty, and the stars were coming out along with a crescent moon. Ky sensed a hint of curiosity just before he asked the question.
"What is it?"
"Oh, nothing. It's just nice here. Quiet."
"More than the city, I guess?"
"Yea. An eerie lack of sirens."
"For now," he added. Ky looked at him questioningly.
"That was a little … equal parts dark and foreboding."
"C'mon, it was a joke," he said, grinning easily. It felt like he was covering something up. Ky sensed a growing defensiveness. Not hostile, just self-protective. She blinked. Well, that level of detail was new.
"O-kay, whatever you say."
Just then, a gust of cool wind blew through Stiles's brown hair, messing it up. Her own skin prickled with goosebumps.
"I should probably get going, then."
"Yea, same. Want a ride back?"
"Oo, yes please."
On the drive home, Stiles asked if she wanted to exchange numbers. "Just to coordinate for Thursday," he said, scratching the back of his head reflexively. "And also so I don't show up in front of your house and get beaten up by your grandparents."
"They would do that," Ky said contemplatively. Then she laughed. "I'm kidding. Actually, apparently my grandma saw you drop me off yesterday."
"And…?"
During dinner, she'd told Ky to thank him for taking care of her last night. The conversation had gone like so:
"I'm not telling him that second part. Wait, you saw him?"
"Of course."
"So… is he good in your eyes now?" she had asked, half-joking, half-serious. It had only been two days but was already getting tiring to plan how to avoid the one person her age that she sort of talked to in the neighbourhood. Scratch that. In the entirety of Beacon Hills.
"Psh. He was never bad."
Ky's mouth dropped. Her grandfather continued to eat, distracted by a video on his phone. "Then why all those warnings?"
"Sometimes bad things still happen to good people, and it's best to let them sort that out before dealing with them. Don't want to absorb the negative energy." She had given Ky a knowing look.
Now, Stiles was waiting expectantly for an answer.
"Oh, she told me to thank you for yesterday."
"Awe, no problem. Does she still hate me?"
"Actually... I think you're gaining her trust a little."
"See, now what did I say about parents- including grandparents- liking me?" He looked smug now.
"Ugh. Letting it get to his head already. Oh, numbers. Okay, gimme your phone."
She added herself into his contact list. Stiles insisted on dropping her off at her house.
"It's not a problem now, right? Also, I don't know if you've noticed, but your bandages make you look like a character from The Walking Dead and it's embarrassing to everyone involved-"
"But it's literally less than a minute to-"
"You are injured, Ky-"
"It's a few scrapes-"
"You're hobbling and people are gonna judge me for letting you walk the rest of the way-"
"Ugh, fine."
When they arrived, she said a quick "'see you tomorrow," shut the door, and hobbled home, a newfound light and airy feeling accompanying her. It was a pleasant change of pace.