For all the air that's in your lungs
For all the joy that is to come
For all the things that you're alive to feel
Just let the pain remind you hearts can heal
Hate To See Your Heart Break – Paramore
"Why can't we just let them kill him again?" I asked from the backseat, feet kicked up as I watched the old buildings from the industrial district fly passed, Stiles pushing the speed limit in his haste to get to Jackson.
"Because we're the good guys," Stiles said slowly like he was speaking to a child. I bit back a remark about how I was over ten times his age, something about the sudden realisation not sitting well in my gut.
"Jackson needs taking care of and the Argents need to believe they caught the other beta," I told them cheerily. "Two birds, one stone," I grinned at Stiles in the mirror. "It's win-win."
He looked like he was seriously considering it for a moment, a small smirk on his face, and a pleasure filled me as for a brief moment I pictured him as an immortal. I could see it so clearly in my mind's eye. He was easy-going, fun-loving and had a brilliantly sour attitude towards life, the kind a vampire needed to get through this world. The awesome thrill the image gave me faded when I realised he'd lose all the things I found best about him; his clumsiness, his humanity, his heartbeat.
"Show time," the boy occupying my thoughts chimed, turning up the music playing from the Jeep and hitting the gas before coming to an abrupt, jerky stop beside Jackson and Argent. "Yo!" he greeted the boy like they were old friends. I wanted no part in it all, sulking in the backseat, silently glowering at the pair.
"Everything okay?" Scott asked him friendlily.
"Hey Scott. Your friend here was having car trouble. We're just taking a look," Argent said with a small smile, like he wasn't planning Jackson's death.
"There's a shop right down the street, I'm sure they have a tow truck."
"Yeah, you want a ride?" Stiles asked with a smile that I could tell was forced. "Hey, come on Jackson," he continued when the boy hesitated. "You're way too pretty to be out here all by yourself."
Jackson nodded reluctantly, heading towards the Jeep. "Hey boys!" Argent called, and I rolled my eyes at his blatant show of ignoring me. He leaned down and turned the ignition, the car letting out a healthy rumble as it started without a problem. "I told you I knew a few things about cars," he said with a sly smirk.
He swaggered back to his vehicle, sliding into the driver's seat and pulling away without a backwards glance.
"What, are you following me now?" Jackson hissed the second he was gone, glaring at Scott with as much fury as he could, which honestly wasn't very intimidating.
"Yes, you stupid, freaking idiot. You almost gave away everything right there!" It was interesting to see Scott blow up, he was usually so introverted. I unrolled the window face them, curling my legs under me on the seat of the Jeep and resting my arms on the windowsill, watching as Stiles joined the group, just as angry looking as his best friend.
"What are you talking about?"
"He thinks you're the second beta!"
There was a pause. "What?"
"He thinks you're me!" Scott lashed out, slamming his hand against the door of the Jeep.
I sniggered at the display of rage, and Stiles shot me a none-too-happy expression. "Dude, my Jeep," he whined, wincing at the minimal damage.
"I can hear your heart beating from a mile away, literally," Scott growled, and I rolled my eyes at the dramatics. "Now he thinks that there's something wrong and now I have to keep an eye on you so he doesn't kill you too!"
He roared loudly, swinging around to land another hit on the Jeep. "Okay, okay, how about we just step away from Stiles' Jeep," the kid muttered, grabbing his friend's arms and pulling him away from his beloved car.
"This is your problem, not mine," Jackson retorted furiously. "Okay, I didn't say anything which means you're the one that's going to get me killed. This is your fault." He took a step forwards, shoving Scott into the Jeep. I dodged back as he slammed into the window I was leaning out of, making sure he didn't break a finger or something.
"Stop hitting my Jeep!" Stiles exclaimed exasperatedly, throwing his arms in the arm. I suppressed another snigger, schooling my features when he glanced my way. Jackson and Scott dove at each other. "Jules!" Stiles yelped, jumping back to avoid being in the middle of their squabble.
I was out of the car before he could blink, standing between the two boys, a hand on each chest, forcing them apart. "Settle down boys," I scolded them lightly, shoving them back another inch when they crept forwards. "Can you play nice or do I need to keep chaperoning?"
"When they come after you I won't be able to protect you!" Scott yelled at Jackson, ignoring me altogether but still keeping his distance. I dropped my hands and slid back, moving so I stood beside Stiles, watching the exchange wearily. "I can't protect anyone."
His gaze slid to Stiles, who blinked in surprise. "Why are you looking at me?" he asked confusedly. He glanced to me, looking for answers. I shook my head, telling him this wasn't the time.
"You know what? Now you have to do it. Get me what I want and I will be fine protecting myself."
I fought the urge to face palm at the ludicrousness of his statement. I hated the ignorant teenage boy. "No you won't," Scott groaned. "Just trust me, all it does is make things worse!"
"Oh yeah really? Now you can you hear everything you want and run faster than humanly possible, sounds like a real hardship, McCall."
"Yeah, I can run really fast now. Except half the time I'm running away from people trying to kill me!" He calmed down a tad, sighing. "And I can hear things like my girlfriend telling people that she doesn't trust me any more, right before breaking up with me. I'm not lying to you! It's ruins your life."
"It ruined your life. You know, you had all the power in the world and you didn't know what to do with it. You know what it's actually like? It's like you turned sixteen and someone bought you a Porsche when they should have started you out with a nice little Honda. Me? I drive a Porsche."
He turned around and stormed back into his precious Porsche (which I made a mental note to key next time I saw it in the school lot), sliding in and driving away with an unnecessary engine rev.
"What a douche-canoe," I mumbled, turning around and slipping back into the car. When the boys didn't move I tapped the outside of the door. "Come on," I prompted them. "I've got shit to get done."
Scott got dropped off first, on the edge of the reserve. He was quiet most of the drive, mumbling a thanks to his best friend and tumbling out of the car and wandering into the woods. I was curious, but I figured it was werewolf business or something, so I didn't pry.
"Hey Stiles," I said as he drove me back towards my house.
"Hey Jules," he replied, and my brow furrowed for a brief moment. I wasn't sure when he started calling me that, or when I'd decided I didn't mind. Either way it felt wrong to tell him off now, so I let it be.
"What do you know about wireless internet?" I asked him, keeping my eyes on the passing scenery.
There was a pause. "You mean Wifi?" he asked, his tone amused.
"Yes, yes," I responded impatiently, crossing my arms. "Do you know how to fix it?"
"Um, depends what's wrong with it, really," he said, and I saw him shrug from the corner of my eye.
I dug in my pocket, eventually pulling out a handful of crumpled bills. "I'll give you seven dollars if you'll come in with me and take a look at my 'Wifi'," I told him, finally looking his way.
He snorted, sending me a look like he wasn't sure whether I was being serious. "You don't have to bribe me, Jules," he said with an amused grin. "We're friends, and friends help friends with their Wifi."
I hesitated, but it was clear he wasn't taking the money, so I slipped it back into my pocket and chose to remain quiet for the rest of the trip. When we got to my modest little house I led the way up the drive, pulling out my keys and shoving the correct one into the lock.
"So what seems to be the problem?" Stiles asked with a smirk as I led the way over to the little machine sitting on the windowsill in my lounge room. I pointed to it, then to my old laptop sitting on the old oak desk in the corner. "Wow, how old is this thing? 203?" I shot him a dirty look at the dig about my age, but only to cover the smile threatening to break out, and he shot me a cheeky grin in response. He leaned forwards and booted it up. "I'm surprised you use a computer at all," he said. "I thought you lived like one of the Amish."
I rolled my eyes at him, moving to stand beside him as I watched him open up some sort of menu. "I have some friends in other countries that like to send emails, they're 'hip' like that."
Stiles chuckled, and I shot him a curious look. "You're so old," he said, but it didn't sound mean or scathing. In fact it sounded sort of...fond.
Before I could comment his stomach rumbled, a sign I took to mean he was hungry. "Want something to eat?" I asked, moving away from the desk where he was working and towards the kitchen.
"That'd be awesome," he responded distractedly. I moved into the other room, my shoes tapping against the tiles. I opened the fridge, staring into its depths. Covering two of my three shelves were assorted blood bags, on the other was an apple and a pack of gum, in the door was a can of lemonade and in the drawer at the bottom was an onion.
I frowned, pulling out the apple and can of lemonade. I may not have been a good cook, but I was one hell of an expert with a knife. I slid one out of it's drawer and cut the apple into quarters, then I put it on a plate. I carried it out to Stiles, offering the food and can of drink to him.
He looked down at what I offered him with a raised eyebrow. "An apple?"
I shrugged sheepishly, biting my lip. "It was literally this or an onion."
He laughed and took the food from me, immediately cracking open the can and taking a sip. "You know, if you're going to start making human friends, you should probably begin stocking your pantry a little better. Just because you don't eat, it doesn't mean the rest of us should starve."
He said it jokingly, but he had a point, so I filed it away for later. He chewed on the apple slices as he worked, taking only another minute before he'd found the problem.
"You haven't updated your computer in a while, have you?" I stared at him, not sure what he meant. "You know those messages that pop up, asking you to update?" he asked slowly, trying a different approach. "Do you press 'remind me later'?"
"Yes."
"There's your problem," he said with a grin, shoving another slice in his mouth. "I fixed it for you," he said, taking in my tense expression. "It's updating now. It might take a while. Do you want me to hang around until it finishes?"
"I think I can handle it," I said, twisting my hands together in front of me. "I've got some stuff to do around town, so I'll just see you later?"
"Sure," he smiled before lifting up the can of drink, "Can I take this home with me?"
"Yeah, not like I'll drink it," I told him, leading him back out to the entryway. "Thanks, Stiles," I said awkwardly, not really liking how small the words made me feel.
"Any time, Juliet," he said with a grin and a wave, ducking out the door and heading for his Jeep.
It was quiet for a long time after Stiles left. I found I didn't like it as much. I used to enjoy the quiet, but now I'd had a taste of Stiles' presence, I found that being by myself just didn't cut it anymore. I tried not to think about what that meant, focusing instead on reorganising my book collection while I waited for the update to finish.
My phone rang as I was finishing off some long-overdue emails to my friends in Montreal, and I glanced at the screen, raising a curious eyebrow when I saw Allison flashing in block letters.
"Yes?" I answered the phone abruptly, reaching across the desk and picking up a cigarette before wandering out onto the porch to smoke it. I didn't like smoking inside, the smell drove me crazy, made me crave it all the time.
"Juliet," Allison said, her voice sounding shaky.
"Yes?" I repeated, not really in the mood to socialise.
"If I ask you a question, will you answer me with total honesty?"
I hesitated. The answer was, of course, no, but something told me that was the wrong thing to say. "Yes," I said once more, frowning at how illiterate I was being today.
"Do you think Scott and I should be together?"
It took me off guard, how the hell was I supposed to answer that? "Why don't you go to Lydia with this sort of thing?" I asked, taking in another lungful of chemicals.
"Lydia's great, really," she said. "It's just that she sort of...made out with Scott in Coach's office."
"Yeah," I chuckled, remembering that night a few days ago on the full moon when Stiles had been whining about it to anyone who would listen. "I know. Stiles told me all about it."
"Oh," she sighed, and I got the feeling I'd said something wrong, even though I'd tried my hardest not to.
Did I think she and Scott should be together?
No.
He was a werewolf and she came from a family of hunters. It was doomed from the fucking start. I had to remind myself to be gentle, not to be so blunt for once.
"I think that the only person who gets to decide whether you should be together is you and him."
Was that good advice? It sounded solid enough.
"Yeah, I guess you're right," she sighed.
"Maybe you should take a day off from worrying," I suggested in my lightest tone, flicking the ash from the end of my cigarette and halfheartedly waving back at my elderly neighbour who was gardening in her front yard. "Enjoy a smoothie, draw a bubble bath, read an old paperback, listen to your favourite record. It'll do you wonders."
She giggled over the phone line, and I felt proud that I'd finally said something at least a little right. "They don't call them 'records' anymore Juliet," she said amusedly.
I smirked to myself, glancing up at the cloudy sky, wishing it would rain already. "I guess I'm what they call an old soul."
"Born in the wrong generation?" she asked with another laugh.
"Something like that," I replied with a bitter smirk. "Listen, I've got to go," I told her, I really did have things to do in town. "And look, about the Scott thing, I will say this: he's a good guy," I said, cringing even as I said it at how cliché it sounded. "He fucked up, but I think he's worth a second chance." I stopped myself from continuing. "But like I said, it's your decision."
"Thanks Juliet," she said, a smile in her voice. "You actually really helped."
"Don't get used to it," I told her, hanging up immediately after for good measure.
I stared at the shelf of cereals. Why the bloody hell were there so many options? Through a process of elimination I'd narrowed it down to two potential candidates. One was called Fruity Pebbles, the other Lucky Charms. I contemplated which one Stiles would like best, then after reading the ingredients, decided he seemed like a marshmallows-for-breakfast kind of guy.
I tossed the Lucky Charms into the cart, moving further down the isle. I didn't have a list, I just showed up and figured I'd buy what seemed like must-haves for any kitchen. I reasoned with myself that if anyone came through my house and saw it empty of food they'd ask questions I didn't want to have to answer, so it was really in my best interest to stock the place with food, and it was absolutely not solely for Stiles' benefit.
Pasta was next. I wondered what kind regular people bought. Should I just get every kind? What kind would Stiles like best?
And as though I'd conjured him with my thoughts, a bewildered Stiles appeared in front of me, bag of carrots in one hand, a can of shaving cream in the other.
"Juliet?"
"Stiles?"
We stared at each other for a moment. "What are you doing?" he asked cautiously, looking at me through suspicious, narrowed eyes.
"Shopping," I said defensively, my grip tightening on the handle of my cart. "Is that a crime?"
"Not a crime," he said carefully. "Weird though, out of character even, considering you don't eat." He continued to observe me quietly while I forced my face remain impassive. Suddenly his eyes lit up like he'd solved a puzzle. "Is this because of what I said at your house earlier?"
"No," I replied too quickly, immediately wincing as I heard myself. A cheeky smirk worked its way onto his face and I rolled my eyes. "Don't flatter yourself," I said, my tone scathing. "You just made me realise it looked suspicious not to have any food in the house. That's all."
"Uh-huh," he nodded, that shit-eating grin of his still intact, clearly not believing a word coming out of my mouth. I bit back a sarcastic remark, turning back to the shelf full of pasta and frowning at the many options. How was I supposed to know which one to get? Which kind went better with the sauce I'd gotten? What kind had the best nutrition?
"But I guess, since you're here, you could pick out the basics for me," I said casually, keeping my eyes on the colourful boxes in front of me.
I could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke, "You mean help you?"
"I mean assist me," I corrected cooly.
He chortled but otherwise didn't respond, his hand snapping out in front of me and picking out a small assortment of options, surveying them for a moment before dropping them in the cart. "I've been thinking," he said, shoving his purchases under one arm before falling into step with me, making our way to the end of the isle.
"Alert the media."
So much for no sarcastic comments.
"I've been thinking," he began again, completely ignoring my unnecessary input. "How do you go out in the sun?"
I was silent as we made our way through the confectionary isle, Stiles picking out the odd packet of chocolate or marshmallows as we walked.
"I mean, so far, there's been some truth to most legends, and it's the most well known fact about your kind. Werewolves change on a full moon, and vampires can't go out in the sun," he recited, clearly speaking directly from his research.
I wondered whether I should tell him, watching as he pulled out two little bottles of salt and pepper out once we were in the next isle, slipping them into the cart before muttering something about spices. It couldn't hurt, I reasoned, I couldn't imagine telling the kid would ever come back to bite me in the ass.
I stopped dead in the isle, causing Stiles to kick his toe on the wheel of the cart. He cursed, frowning as he looked up at me expectantly. I held up my hand, one single finger raised in the air.
"Are you seriously flipping me off right now? That's not an answer to my question."
I let a smirk slide across my lips. "I'm doing both," I said with a goading grin. "Multitasking." He shot me a sour look, so I rolled my eyes and held my hand out palm down, showing him the array of rings littered over my fingers. I let go of the cart with my other hand, using my index finger to point to the large, ancient ring that sat on the middle finger of my left hand. "See this ring?" I asked, and his eyes flickered between it and me confusedly. "This is what keeps me from turning to dust in the sun."
"So you do burn up in the sun!" he exclaimed brightly, like he discovered a fossil gold.
I rolled my eyes, forcing myself not to flinch when he grasped my hand, pulling it closer to get a better look at the piece of jewellery.
"How does it work?"
"I don't know," I admitted, ignoring how warm and smooth his skin was. "Something to do with the stone, I think. It has to be a lapis lazuli. All I know is a witch spelled it for me centuries ago, and I don't for a second pretend to know how that mumbo-jumbo works."
His hands dropped mine like I'd burned him, and he stared up at me, glee spread upon his face. "Witches exist?" he asked in a hushed tone, clearly thrilled by the information.
"Vampires, werewolves," I shrugged, sliding both hands back on to the handle of the cart and pushing it further down the isle. "It's not such a huge jump."
"Do you know any?" he questioned eagerly, absentmindedly throwing an arm out and picking up a can of whipped cream, placing it gently in the cart. "Do you have witch friends?"
"I know plenty," I said with a small grin. "Don't know if I could call any of them friends..."
"None of them like you?"
"Hey," I cried indignantly, pretending to be hurt by the assumption. "How do you know it's not me who doesn't like them."
"Um, because I've met you?" he responded dryly, a mischievous smirk on his lips. "And we may not have known each other for long, but I can tell making friends isn't your strong suit."
"I'm friends with you, aren't I?"
"Yeah, but I'm easy," he replied, tripping over air as he realised how that sounded. He cleared his throat and rubbed at the back of his neck, red blotches appearing on his face.
I rolled my eyes, not bothering to hide my own smirk. "Witches aren't known for their love of..." I paused as an elderly couple wandered passed, shooting them my warmest smile. "My kind," I muttered under my breath so nobody overheard. "We tolerate each other."
"Are there any in town?" he asked just as quietly, picking up a packet of cookies, considering them for a moment before nodding to himself and dropping them in with everything else.
"Not that I know of. They're not like wolves, they don't have a scent, so they're harder to pick out."
"Then how do you know if you've met one?"
"There's this...crackle in the air," I tried to explain. "Kind of like static. You can only feel it when they're close by and doing something...witchy. Plus, if they know who we are they usually seek us out to set down ground rules. Judgy little things, witches."
"Man, I'd love to meet one," he said as another colourful packet was tossed into the cart.
"Stick with me kid," I said with a smirk and a Brooklyn accent. "I can show you the world."
He spun around and gaped at me for a full thirty seconds. "You have a sense of humour?" he asked playfully, and I rolled my eyes.
"I'm not a robot," I responded, doing my best to frown, forcing away the smile dancing at the corners of my mouth.
"Is that like a vampire thing, then?" he inquired seriously after a long pause as we made our way into the frozen foods isle. "The emotions, or lack thereof?"
I watched him pull open of the glass doors, grasping onto a bucket of ice cream, putting it in the cart and rubbing his hands on his jeans to warm them up. "I'll tell you what is a vampire thing," I said, very obviously changing the subject, but I didn't care. "We don't get cold."
"Really?" he asked, thankfully not bringing attention to my avoidance of the topic. "Like, ever? You wear jackets all the time though."
"To keep up appearances," I responded lightly. "It wouldn't be smart to wear a t-shirt in a snow storm, it'd draw too much attention. So I got used to putting on a coat whenever it looks cold." My eyebrows pulled together as he tugged a bottle of chocolate milk off the shelf. "Besides, lessens the chances of somebody feeling how unnaturally cold my skin is and getting grossed out."
"I don't think it's gross."
My smooth steps didn't falter as I glanced over at him with sharp eyes, considering his words carefully.
Those familiar red blotches appeared on his freckled cheeks and he cleared his throat, pretending to be focused on the label of a tub of butter. I watched him for another long moment before finally turning away and gazing unseeingly at the shelf of chilled dairy goods.
Every time the kid opened his mouth he surprised me in the best possible way, and I didn't think I'd ever get used to it.
