Chapter Seven: Eyes Wide Open
Song Inspiration: Pim Stones By Neon Lights and Me By The 1975
"You think falling in love is about holding on, but it isn't. It is about hands gripping the edge of the world and letting go, one finger at a time. Take a deep breath- here comes the drop. I know it's your first time here, but soon you will get used to the motion; the headlong dive into the deep. Just go with it. You only get one chance to fall in love with your heart still whole." -The Edge of the World, Lang Leav
Lydia stands ivory and iridescent, rose gold hair tumbling down her shoulders in soft curls with wavy tendrils framing her face. Plush, pink lips part the sea of people, urging them to flee the scene. Every one in her periphery ducks for cover, placing their hands over their ears for safety.
Malia watches her in awe, always having a taste for strong women even if her preference for men was always her undoing. She spies little Persephone and thinks that she is glorious is this element, knowing from the start that she was a force to be reckoned with. The Alpha female has an affinity for wild spirits, and she realizes that she has come across another.
She lays still in Stiles' arms, his hands rough and calloused by burdens she knew nothing about. He uses them to rub her own hands between his, the friction eliciting heat that kisses her palms. And he holds her like she's made of rose-petals; paper-thin, velvety, and smooth... a thing to be protected. She folds into his caverns of warmth and safety like origami, hoping his body will swallow her whole until her back hits his rib cage and she's introduced to his heart.
She wonders if it's as black as hers.
Do our hearts bleed the same?
But part of her shudders in his presence, the cold, mocking voice in her brain reminding her that even if she wanted this, wanted him... To explore this connection, she never could. She would destroy the hope inside of him. The one that makes his chest feel like it's splitting in half, silently waiting for all the soot to fall freely down his open torso. He probably doesn't even realize that she's seen it, has noticed it from the moment she saw him.
Hope. The one thing Stiles seems to be clinging to. Malia could see it as a thin film of light that hid in the corner of his eyes: jaw set and wearing subdued sanguine like it's a brand new Versace.
She remembers the first time she'd ever laid eyes on him.
Malia had taken a secret trip to Beacon Hills before the rest of her pack. She wanted to scope out the area as a future home for her and her family. This wouldn't be a settling point until a year or so from then if she decided that she liked the quiet little town. But Malia always had her plan A, B, and C lined up, never knowing when the time would arise and she'd have to make a haste decision to relocate. No one knew about it except Theo but he didn't exactly know why he was suppose to keep it a secret. She had told him that she was eyeing up a future investment, that investment being where her and the pack currently reside presently. At the time, she hadn't wanted to worry the others, that would be like poking the beast. The younger bunch were finally getting used to the new place they had only recently took residence in. But no matter how much her pack loves Colorado, they couldn't lay down roots in their mountainous fortress.
Forming ties to a place leads to crippling nostalgia the day you realize that it is home. But from what Malia has learned, home is people, not a place. She couldn't afford for her pack to learn that the hard way, so she'd much rather them not even know she was inspecting a new place.
She had stumbled across the 'Welcome to Beacon Hills' sign and felt a shift in the atmosphere as her foot stepped past the invisible barrier. She had heard a rustling in the trees, thinking that it was probably just an animal. But curiosity got the best of her and she began to weave through the trees and followed the noise.
The further Malia had gotten into the woods, her chest began to tingle in a way similar to heartburn. Her hand had touched the valley between her breasts, feeling around for the nonexistent flame that scratched at the surface of her skin. Unconsciously, she had continued walking through the pain, peering around as the rustling got louder and she stumbled upon a shadow of a boy. Interest getting the best of her, she'd taken a step closer, feeling the crunch of a leaf beneath her boot. Freezing up at her mistake, she looks over to see if the boy had noticed.
But he hadn't.
He stared off into space, unaware that she was there witnessing him fall to his knees beneath the California sunset.
He crumbled into the dirt. His hands squished it until it came out oozing between his knuckles. Even from Malia's distance, she can hear his breathing turn shallow as the smell of his salty tears hits the air. He felt... Sad. Actually anguish was a better way to describe it. She stood to where she could see his profile, his heavy lids darkened from either crying or lack of sleep, she didn't know. A slick tear slide past his nose, cascading down the slope of it until the tear caught in the hollow cupid's bow just above his lips. The same tears coated his lashes, turning the ashen brown into a heavy black.
Malia finds him enchanting, watching dark billows of heavy clouds crowding the sky in his wake. Suddenly, it's raining. No more colorful skies.
The thunder started next, beating to the sloshing rhythm of his very own heart beat. It's as if the sky is crying for him.
Shallow rocks sit in a semi circle and a single flower blooms in the midst of it all. And that's when Malia gets it. This is a grave, and she's interrupting the funeral.
"Gwen..." He mumbles through his tears. The name comes out rough, barely making it through the scratchiness of his throat. He rubs the what's probably weeks old stubble that's scattered across his jaw. He lets out the breathe he had been holding, "Gwen, I'm so sorry."
Malia watched on from the series of trees that hid her presence. He must have been really lost in thought if he hadn't heard her yet. He was an Alpha, she could smell it on him. He should have known she was there.
She supposes he had other things to worry about.
His phone rang in his pocket and he answered it, "Hi-yeah dad, I'm- I'm here. No, you don't need to come all the way out here, I just" HE lets out a long breath, "I just need to be alone, okay?"
Malia listened in on the conversation, having caught the tail-end of the man's words as he finished speaking and gained some new knowledge on her mystery boy. She then could put a name to a face. His name was Stiles.
"Yeah dad, I'll come home tonight, I promise." Stiles whispered, the lie easily slipping between his teeth. He had no plans of going home. Not that night, not the next, maybe not ever. He couldn't look his dad in the eye after what he'd done.
"You don't have to go through this alone son, I lost her too." A deep-set voice gently reminded him through the receiver.
Stiles' eyes squeezed shut at his dad's statement, the hand holding the phone shaking between his fingers.
"ll see you soon." He deadpans, hanging up the phone without so much as a goodbye.
Stiles pulled out a ragged old teddy bear with a torn ear from the backpack that sits beside him. It's dirty and ripped and Malia can smell the small traces of old blood infused in it's faux fur, the metallic scent invading her nose.
He sets the stuffed bear down next to the flower, a watery smile overtaking his features for just a single moment. He sighs, "I was suppose to protect you but I'm the one who put you here. I swear I still see you everywhere. At the grocery store, at the park on the swing set... I find myself mistaking other mussy-haired brunettes for you all the time." He chuckles, wiping another tear that escapes down his cheek, "I just-I- I don't know if I can do this without you. Not now, not ever. I just miss you so much." He admits to the silent space, gathering the courage to keep talking. "I never believed in the whole Heaven thing; I know you did though. You were in bible-school every Monday and Wednesday. And even if I didn't understand it, I was proud of you. But I've been thinking about it a lot lately, Heaven and Hell. I know where you are now, there's no doubt in my mind. You're now the real-life angel I always knew you were." He says, looking down at the ground. "Well, I suppose you wouldn't be a 'real-life' since you're technically dead. That's kind of morbid to think about, huh? I can almost here you berating me for it." He laughs humorlessly, continuing to speak to the empty grave while running his fingers through the dirt. "And I know that you probably don't blame me for what happened, but I blame me." He growls, his voice growing dark as a clap of thunder hangs over head. "And I just want you to know that I'm sorry and that's it's okay if you don't want to watch over me anymore. When you were alive your head was always stuck in the clouds and now that's where I'll always look for you." He finishes, his voice gravelly. His grief consumes him, existing so loudly as if it were a physical entity, and the magnitude of it made Malia gasp out loud.
She covered her mouth to silence herself.
His head shot up from the ground and eyes filled with a teary, whimsical hope that breaks her. He murmurs, "Gwen... Is that you?"
The hope coloring his tone is fleeting and his eyes deaden to a dull brown. Malia could see it all over his face. He had seen this so called Gwen's death again right before his eyes, his vision shadowed with memories and reliving that pain, no longer distinguishing dream from reality and coming to the terrible realization once again that she is dead. Malia nibbled at her thumb nail, having had the decency to feel guilty.
As if Stiles finally realized that he wasn't alone, his eyes pierced through the underbrush deep into her own that lay waiting for his next move with baited breath.
Would he find her? And what would be think if he knew she had witnessed such a private moment?
There's no way he can actually see her through all the trees, but for a moment she really thought he had.
Malia bolted back to the road, fleeing from the strange boy who somehow made her mourn for a girl she never even knew.
Hope. Yes, that's what she sees in him. She'd seen it that day and she sees it again. Stiles may thinks he covers himself well, but he can't hide from her. He may be forged from brimstone and hard armor but part of Malia knows that he hopes one day someone will find a chink in that hard exterior.
And she had.
Lydia's scream falls silent and the Dread Doctors are gone.
Her body is weak as she sways from side to side. Malia doesn't know what propels her forward, but with a grunt of pain she leaves the furnace of Stiles' arms and leaps to catch the banshee before her body crumples to the floor.
Something about the girl caught her attention. She was a little dove; porcelain flesh in place of wings, strong, and oh so lovely. Malia's body worked instantly on overdrive, calling to her to protect as if the words were flashing red above her head. Knowingly, she couldn't let Lydia become another friend, another sister, someone else that she would try and fail to take care of. But she also couldn't let her come to any harm either.
The small, ablaze flame in her chest licks at her ribs. The last little sliver of her soul she had gotten to keep flickers ever so faintly. The feeling shoots though Malia, the foreign sensation almost causing her to grunt in pain. It warms her even as it burns, the spot over her heart feeling as if pressed with a hot poker.
"Friend" A voice whispers in her head.
Fine. Maybe... Begrudgingly, she could watch over Lydia.
Malia faces the group, her stoic expression giving nothing away.
"I'm taking her with me." She states, careful to throw the weary strawberry blonde over her good shoulder. The paralysis had almost worn off completely, her skin stitching itself back together like wool being maneuvered by invisible strings. The capacity of her body's ability to heal never ceases to amaze her.
Stiles shoots off the ground, a stern gaze directed at her. She steadily holds his eyes.
Neither of them seemed to want to give in first.
Stiles grumbles, realizing how childish this all was. "Like hell you're taking her anywhere. Just because our packs were able to work together doesn't mean I trust you. That isn't how this works." He explains through gritted teeth, making a move to take Lydia.
Malia side steps out of his grasp, tucking Lydia into her side. "Well you better start making nice and singing Kumbaya, baby, because I'm taking her with me." She takes a cool step forward, " ...And I'm not asking for your permission. I've acquired some different herbs and crystal healing stones throughout my travels and close contacts. That combined with my enhanced healing will make her feel better. Isn't that what you want?" She sneers, eyeing him with a looking of disdain and maybe even a pinch of jealousy.
Stiles sees the flicker of emotion cross her eyes before it's gone. He sizes her up, not believing what she's saying to him. "Why do you care about what happens to her? You threatened her life the other day." He challenges, keeping his eyes trained on Lydia who's unconscious at this point. She'd used up a lot of her strength getting rid of the Dread Doctors. A trail of scarlet blood rolls down her nose.
Malia dodges his question, looking down at Lydia and then back up at Stiles. "I'll take care of her." She vows, a grim line forming on her face before she calls out a name.
"Corey." She says with an air of authority.
Using his powers, Corey pushes his invisible cloak around his pack and the unconscious Lydia in Malia's arms until The Stilinski pack cannot see them anymore.
They're gone.
Author's Note: Hey sorry guys this is a little shorter and there may be some mistakes because I wrote this a little fast. I wanted to give y'all something because I don't know when I'll be able to update again. School is tough right now and I need to barrel through to the end. So just a heads up. Please if you'd be so kind I'd love the reviews to hold me over until I can get another chapter out to you guys. The reviews mean so much and let me know what you all think of the story so please take a second to leave me some feedback. I love long, detailed notes. I hoped you liked the chapter and I might have raised some questions? Who's Gwen and what does Stiles have to do with her dead? And where is Malia taking Lydia? And for all you dark!Malia lovers, she WILL be making a return so bear with me. Stay tuned!