#askybison

‘’Jesus, Parrish- your feet are fucking freezing!’’ Ronan groans noisily but he stays put.

He feels Adam stir against his back and hears the lazy smile in his voice when he murmurs, ‘’Mornin’, Lynch.’’

Despite Ronan’s loud protests, Adam proceeds to simply hold his feet more snugly against Ronan’s legs. Adam laughs quietly as Ronan shoves his legs out of the comforter to leave them dangling over the side of the too-small bed.

‘’Really?’’

‘’Yes, really,’’ Ronan scoffs. ‘’You’re stealing my body heat.’’

‘’Fine, I guess I’ll just...’’ Adam starts and he begins to remove his arm from Ronan’s waist but it’s quickly tugged back and pulled around Ronan’s body.

‘’Not yet,’’ Ronan says quietly.

They lie that way for a while and although Ronan feels like he should be uncomfortable in this position -with his feet hanging over the side of the bed-  he can’t seem to feel anything but happy. He gets to spend the holidays with Adam, gets to wake up in his arms and feel his steady heartbeat against his back. Gets to see him in all of his sleepy morning glory and bicker with him about his ice-cold feet.

Of course, his stomach drops slightly when he remembers what day it is and he tries not to grow more nervous than he already is. Although, initially, he’d been impatient about giving Adam his gift, now that the day was here, he began mulling over all the different ways in which Adam would react.

Would he hate it? Find it weird? Self-absorbed?

Ronan sighs inaudibly.

‘’What’s going on over there, hm?’’ Adam asks softly, recognizing the tension in his body.

Ronan is saved from answering thanks to the clumsy footsteps stomping down the hallway. He turns over on his back and stares at the door, waiting and soon, he hears a soft knock.

Adam sits up against the headboard and calls out, ‘’Come on in, Opal.’’

The door props open slightly and Opal’s face appears in the doorway, her face split in a toothy grin. It widens when Adam pats the space between him and Ronan. She leaps onto the bed and sternly looks down at them, hands on her hips.

‘’Come on, you guys! It’s Christmas!’’

Ronan groans playfully and flops over onto his stomach, face stuffed in his pillow. He peeks out with one eye to see Opal huffing and looking at Adam helplessly.

Adam stares down at him, amused. ‘’Where’s the Christmas spirit, Lynch?’’

‘’See, Adam gets it,’’ Opal says, managing to sound both annoyed and affectionate. She settles down beside Adam and plays with his fraying shirt sleeve. ‘’Are we opening presents yet?’’

‘’In a bit, Opal,’’ Adam promises, gently patting down her wild hair. Ronan props his head on his arms and watches as she practically preens under the attention. ‘’We’ll be downstairs in a sec. I’ll make us some breakfast.’’

‘’Okay!’’ she says, and jumps off the bed, clambering towards the door. Before she shuts it, she props her head in the gap and looks pointedly at Ronan. ‘’Oh, and Ronan?’’

‘’Mm?’’

‘’Don’t forget, okay?’’ she says and smiles her angelic smile that fools nobody before sealing their door shut.

Ronan’s stomach bottoms out at her words and he glances at Adam, who he finds is curiously looking down at him. Thankfully, he doesn’t say anything and instead chooses to shuck off their covers. Ronan watches him stretch and walk silently towards his suitcase to grab a fresh set of clothes.

Adam raises his eyebrows when he catches Ronan’s eye and he can see the question forming in Adam’s mind. So, he does the Ronan thing to do. He deflects.

‘’So, breakfast, huh? Didn’t know you could even boil water.’’

Adam stares at him for a moment and then rolls his eyes. ‘’I might’ve picked up a few things here and there while living on campus, you know.’’

‘’Wow. Four months and you’ve already nailed cooking.’’

‘’It’s a gift,’’ Adam replies dryly, walking towards the bathroom.

Before he can lose the nerve, Ronan turns on his back and stares at the ceiling. ‘’Speaking of gifts.’’

Adam pauses, his hand on the door frame to look over his shoulder. ‘’Yeah?’’

‘’I’ve got something. For you, I mean.’’

Adam’s got his full attention now and Ronan tries not to squirm under it. He can see Adam leaning on the doorframe in his peripheral vision, the way his arms are folded across his chest. ‘’Is that right?’’

Ronan’s ears feel hot at the tone of his voice.

It’s not like the don’t give each other gifts. Ronan loves the new leather bracelets that sometimes appear on his wrist after a nap from when he visits Adam’s dorm. He loves it when Harvard sweaters are ‘accidentally’ left behind in the Barns, still smelling of Adam’s hand lotion.

And of course, he’s seen the way Adam’s eyes light up when Ronan gives him a dream trinket or more magical hand lotion. He’s also teased Adam endlessly about the meticulous care he gave to the tiny potted plants that sat on his dorm windowsill. The plants that flourished beautifully, despite Adam’s nervous protests that he couldn’t take proper care of them when he’d first found them lying near his window during Ronan’s visits.

They’d never spent the holidays together as an official couple and for the past few weeks, Ronan definitely felt the pressure of giving Adam the perfect gift, despite Opal’s constant reassuring - ‘’Adam loves anything you give him.’’

Still.

It had to be something good. Because Adam Parrish in himself was a fucking miracle and deserved as much.

Ronan finally untangles himself from the sheets and sits up. He shifts his gaze to Adam who he finds is already grinning knowingly at him.

‘’I want to give it to you now,’’ Ronan states, watching Adam’s grin deepen. ‘’So, are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna hurry up and shower already?’’

‘’Dunno.’’ A dimple appears in both of his cheeks. ‘’View’s pretty nice out here.’’

In reply, he gets a pillow thrown in his face. Ronan scowls without any real malice, trying to ignore the heat that seeps into his face. ‘’Just. Hurry up, will you.’’

Adam’s quiet laughter can be heard even as he shuts the bathroom door but Ronan can’t really take offence. He loves it when Adam’s like this. Beautiful and playful, enjoying the effect he has on Ronan.

When Ronan hears the showerhead turn on, he runs to the bathroom and hurriedly brushes his teeth. He swears unceremoniously when he knocks over one of the plastic soap dispensers in his haste.

‘’Someone’s in a hurry,’’ Adam says, amused, from behind the curtain.

‘’Someone better mind their own fucking business or they might not get their gift.’’

Adam’s effortless laughter forces a grin out of Ronan, despite his nervousness. The butterflies return, however, as he walks to his closet, pawing for the small cardboard box that he’d kept tucked away in the corner. He returns to the bed and tries to wait patiently, tries to ignore his nerves.

After weeks of carefully dreaming up Adam’s gift, and spending several more weeks ensuring that it actually worked, he’d told Opal. His fingers drift over the box’s slightly rough surface as he remembers her reaction- ‘’Oh, Adam will love it!’’- and her insistence that they both decorate the box in red and gold. He remembers when she recognized his eventual uncertainty and how she quipped that he ‘’better not stall or else’’.

Ronan sighs and decides to take one final look at the gift- despite the way he’d memorized its shape, colour and texture- before Adam showed up.

He nudges open the lid, eyeing the small golden doorknob that’s carefully arranged in the center, surrounded by loads of red tissue paper.

Before he can find something to scrutinize and fix, he sees the bathroom door being prodded open and Adam peering up at him, with something that almost resembles shyness. His gaze snags on the box in Ronan’s palm and he raises an eyebrow when Ronan hides it behind his back.

‘’Well, don’t just stand there,’’ Ronan teases, but his voice betrays his nerves.

Pushing off the doorframe, Adam starts towards the bed but pauses to kneel in front of his suitcase, his back to Ronan. Ronan barely hears him as he says, ‘’I’ve got something for you, too.’’

He stands and shuffles towards the bed, trying to hide the gift but Ronan catches a glimpse of red wrapping paper around something that resembles a book. His heart thunders.

He’d completely forgotten about the fact that while he’d been deliberating Adam’s gift, Adam was probably doing the same thing. As he seats himself in front of Ronan, Ronan wonders if Adam, too, was nervous. He gets his answer as he notices the way Adam eyes shift from Ronan and then, away.

Well, at least he’s not the only one.

‘’Okay,’’ Adam says and holds his arms out, palms up, his smile tentative.

Ronan raises a brow and grins. ‘’What makes you think I’m going first?’’

‘’Ronan.’’

‘’What?’’

‘’You-’’ he struggles for a bit, his mouth hilariously caught between pouting and grinning alongside Ronan. ‘’You’re the one who brought this whole thing up! Quit stalling.’’

‘’I’m not stalling-’’

‘’Here,’’ Adam straightens and puts one hand over his eyes, the other one held palm up between both of them. ‘’I’ll even cover my eyes.’’

Ronan blinks, slightly thrown at the change in direction. He swallows and brings out the small box from behind his back, staring down at it.

Sensing Ronan’s hesitation, a line appears between Adam’s brows. He blindly reaches out to squeeze Ronan’s forearm. ‘’Hey. Relax, would you? It’s just me.’’

Ronan inhales and takes Adam’s hand to place the small box in it. Steeling himself, he watches as Adam slowly opens his eyes, his lashes fluttering along his cheekbones. Ronan rests his elbows on his thighs and bites his thumbnail, peering up at Adam through his lashes.

He watches as Adam looks at him, then at the box, then him again- and his heart just about melts when Adam lets loose one of his rare shy grins. The tips of his ears turn pink as he clears his throat and says, ‘’Okay. Well.’’

Ronan’s pretty sure he doesn’t exhale for the next thirty seconds but it doesn’t matter. He smiles widely behind his thumbnail when Adam’s hasty fumbling eventually dissolves into uncontained excitement, as he sets aside the box’s lid and ruffles through the tissue paper.

Adam’s hand slightly freeze when he sees the small knob. Ronan’s pretty sure his heart does the exact same thing as Adam slowly lifts it out of the box and cradles it in both hands.

He turns it over once, twice and Ronan can practically see the cogs turning in his mind, as Adam inspects it. Ronan knows he can’t figure it out when he pauses and tentatively, without looking up, says, ‘’Explain’’.

It sounds more like a suggestion than a demand, like Adam’s trying to wind the answer of him, bit by bit. Ronan feels some part of him breathe out in relief because Adam knows. He knows that this isn’t merely junk and he knows that this is something.

Ronan’s throat feels raw as he answers, ‘’You’ve been saying how you wish you could see me- and Opal and Gansey and Blue.’’

Adam glances up at him, nodding slowly.

‘’And that calling and shit isn’t nearly as amazing as seeing me in person,’’ he continues.

‘’Oh, yeah, Ronan. That is exactly what I said,’’ Adam says sarcastically, his lips twitching into a grin.

A corner of his mouth lifting, Ronan plucks the doorknob out of Adam’s hands and examines it. ‘’Sucks because the only way you’d be able to use it is by removing your dorm doorknobs on both sides and putting this one in place. That way nobody can open it from the other end. You need to make sure of that.’’

Adam nods repeatedly at the methodic explanations, his eyes boring into Ronan’s. He motions for Ronan to give the knob back.

‘’Then what?’’ he prompts casually, his fingers imperceptibly tightening on it.

Ronan watches him carefully and exhales. ‘’Then, you’d step through your dorm door and end up here. Through the Barns’ front door.’’   

Awe slowly transforms Adam’s face. ‘’And you call me ‘magician’.’’

‘’I just thought maybe…. I want you to know that I’m here whenever you need me, Adam.’’

He keeps his eyes locked on Adam’s hands and prays it doesn’t sound as conceited as he feels it is. Hopes that Adam doesn’t think that Ronan sees him as helpless when it comes to handling his new life at college. He knows that Adam is more than capable of dealing with all of this.

But he also knows that after all those late-night talks of both of them whispering- in raw and aching voices- how much they missed each other, that he had to do something.

So when the idea was planted in his mind, Ronan had immediately gone to work. At first, he didn’t really know what he was supposed to be dreaming of.

But after weeks of simply dreaming of Adam stepping through the front door of the Barns’, wearing one of his threadbare college sweaters and a crooked grin that made Ronan’s head spin, Ronan was drawn to the idea of a door.

An idea he’d shot down after waking up exhausted time after time, without anything to show for it. So instead, he’d decided to go for something smaller and simpler- a doorknob. He’d figured that it would be easy enough. But there was a significant difference between dreaming up a normal doorknob and one that allowed the user to travel from one place to another.

Despite all this work, Ronan was still apprehensive of what Adam’s reaction would be.

He starts a bit when he feels Adam’s calloused hand cradling the side of his face, his thumb brushing lightly across his cheeks. Ronan’s breath catches as sees the soft wonder in Adam’s eyes.

‘’You dreamt me a fucking portal,’’ he murmurs, his eyes alight with happiness.

‘’Well, since you’d never sleep without first telling me how much you fuckin’ missed me,’’ Ronan mimics, a wicked smile curling his mouth when Adam pushes him away, face red.

‘’I thought I’d save us both the trouble,’’ Ronan finishes, his voice softer.

Adam considers him with a small smile. ‘’How kind of you, Lynch.’’

‘’I take it that you like it, then,’’ Ronan says, sitting back against the headboard. Satisfaction blooms widely in his chest.

‘’Like is an understatement. And besides, did you really think I wouldn’t?’’

‘’No. It’s just… I didn’t know if it was… too much.’’

‘’Ronan, we have a hooved child. Most of our belongings are either dreamt up or from a magical forest. Oh, and we’re also friends with Richard Campbell Gansey III.’’

Ronan throws his head back and laughs, wild and relieved. ‘’Good point, Parrish.’’

He looks back at Adam to see him slowly pull out the red parcel from behind his back and place it in his lap. ‘’My turn,’’ he says, his lips quirked to one side.

He appears to be the epitome of ease but Ronan knows what nervousness looks like on Adam. He sees it in his slightly hunched shoulders and the way his fingers curl tightly around the edge of the gift.

‘’I mean, it’s no frickin’ magical portal, but-’’ he starts lightly and then quiets when Ronan wordlessly reaches out.

He gently pries Adam’s fingers off the gift and lifts them to his mouth to leave a light kiss on each fingertip, watching as Adam’s eyelids droop slightly.

‘’It’s just me, right?’’ Ronan says, echoing Adam’s earlier words.

‘’Yeah,’’ Adam whispers breathily, his mouth curling in a smile. ‘’Here.’’

Ronan takes his gift, feeling a bit flustered with excitement. Experimentally, and just to see the nervousness leave Adam’s body, he holds it up beside his ear and gives it a little shake.

‘’Better not be another Harvard sweater, Parrish.’’

‘’Shut up. You love those.’’

Ronan grins widely- which meant that he certainly did- and begins to remove the little pieces of tape holding the wrapping paper together.

‘’Will you just rip it already?’’ Adam huffs, crossing his arms.

‘’No, I’m saving it.’’

‘’For what?’’

He’s about to respond with something cheeky, when he catches sight of something deep green in colour under the wrapping paper. He shucks of the remaining paper and holds the book- an album, really- in his lap.

The beautiful, shimmery colour reminded him of Cabeswater and knowing Adam, he knew it was intentional.

He stares at Adam through his lashes, smiling slightly. ‘’I already love it.’’

‘’Just open it,’’ Adam says, rolling his eyes but he can’t help his answering grin.

Ronan obliges him and opens the first page. He hears Adam inhale sharply and feels his own breath as it releases all at once. Right then, Ronan knew his face had melted into what probably resembled a goofy, love-sick smile, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

His eyes glaze over the first photograph- it was one of him and Adam before they’d gotten together, both of them seated at one of Nino’s booths. They were both wearing obnoxious Christmas sweaters, given to them by Gansey and they had their shoulders pressed tightly against each other.

The photo was most likely taken by Gansey or Blue. It shows Adam mid-laugh, his head thrown back slightly, his gorgeous freckles just barely visible under the booth’s light. Next to him, Ronan sipped a beer but his eyes unsubtly peeked at Adam. The corner of his lips were turned up and it was obvious that he’d been trying to make Adam laugh, and had taken pride in doing so.

He glances up at Adam, who slowly breathe out. They both wear identical shy smiles.

‘’It was probably a dirty Latin joke,’’ Adam says.

‘’Hey, my Latin jokes are perfectly fucking classy,’’ Ronan argues.

He pats the space beside him and moves over to make more room as Adam crawls over and settles himself beside Ronan.

Together, they peruse through the album.

They laugh over the pages that hold Ronan’s brothers. When Matthew’s birthday had sprung up during Adam’s school year and after Matthew’s relentless insistence that he at least try to come to the party, he’d surprised all of them- especially Ronan- by showing up.

Adam had asked someone to take a picture of all four of them- Matthew, smiling brightly, his golden hair flopping around his forehead. And Adam, Ronan and Declan, all sporting amused looks at Matthew’s delight.

Another page displays their inclinations of stealing the other one’s clothes.

‘’You still have that, don’t you?’’ Ronan grins, pointing to one of the pictures.

Adam glances at it over Ronan’s shoulder and laughs. It shows Adam wearing one of Ronan’s snapbacks backward while Ronan pressed an obnoxiously messy kiss to his temple. Although Adam had tried to look exasperated, he had his wide, unshielded smile on full display.

‘’Yeah,’’ Adam confesses. ‘’You want it back?’’

‘’Nope.’’

They fondly run their fingers over the next few picture of Gansey teaching Opal how to play chess. Adam was tucked warmly into Ronan’s side as they watched Opal and Gansey on the ground in front of them.

While Adam hid a smile in the crook of Ronan’s neck as Opal had slowly begun to destroy Gansey, Ronan had thrown his head back, laughing unashamedly.

Some of the photographs are also of nature-  lichen-covered trees, naked forests surrounded by a hazy fog and rays of sunlight peeking through branches. Ronan can see the careful and almost, loving way that the pictures were taken. He looks over at Adam in surprise.

‘’Didn’t know you were a photographer, Parrish,’’ he notes, eyebrows raised.

Adam rubs the back of his neck, a flush creeping up his neck. ‘’It’s relaxing, okay?’’

Ronan grins and bumps their shoulders together. ‘’They’re beautiful.’’

It was amazing, really- the amount of time and effort that had gone into putting the album together. Ronan’s chest tightens as he realizes that despite the fact that Adam barely had any spare time anymore, he’d done it.  He’d gone ahead and painstakingly created an album of their relationship, each of the photos showing their love for each other.

There are a dozen other pages to look through but he places the album aside and turns to Adam.

‘’Do you like it?’’ Adam asks quietly, his face holding traces of that initial shyness.

Ronan stares at him. ‘’No. I hate it.’’

Although Adam calls his bluff, he begins to get up. ‘’Right, I’ll just-’’

He is pulled back as Ronan laughs and slings an arm around his waist. Adam settles back down and looks at him, eyebrows raised. He bites his lip as he tries not to smile.

‘’Of course I like it,’’ Ronan said, cradling Adam’s face between his hands and watching as his smile deepened. ‘’I love it, asshole.’’

Satisfied, Adam grins and leans forward to press their lips together. Ronan immediately reacts and tugs at Adam’s shirt. He remembers the first time they’d kissed, in this very spot, how he’d been afraid that Adam would disappear beneath his fingers.

Before he can stop himself, he murmurs, ‘’Never even imagined that we’d ever spend Christmas together like this.’’

Adam leans back to smile at him softly, his lips red. ‘’This is the best one I’ve ever had.’’

Burying his fingers in Adam’s still-damp hair, Ronan tugs until Adam relents. Impossibly close, he places a kiss at the crown of Adam’s head and then returns to his mouth.

‘’Merry Christmas, Parrish’’ he whispers.

‘’Merry Christmas,’’ Adam returns, smiling widely against Ronan’s lips.

The mole-faced boy checked his pockets to see if he had any stowaway colouring utensils hidden in the compartments of his clothing. He looked over at the eight-year-old girl he so desperately wanted to please in defeat. Stiles’ heart broke when he saw the emerald-eyed girl look down in disappointment knowing he couldn’t do anything to prevent the gloomy look on her too-beautiful-to-be-real face.

The anxiety-ridden boy looked around the dinky classroom full of rowdy children to find a red coloured crayon to fulfil his quest in making his “crush” joyful once again. Then he spotted it. A sharp, bright red crayon in all of its marvellous glory. However, it was placed firmly in a fellow student’s hand; the hand of his dear friend, Scott McCall.

Stiles quickly raced to their circle-shaped table and slammed his palm on the smooth wood, making his tan companion jump slightly in his plastic seat.

“Scott, I need that crayon,” he burst out in pants, tired from the brief jog.

“Stiles, I’m still colouring; you can have it after,” the puppy-faced friend replied, annoyed by his overly hyper friend. The boy with an uneven jaw turned back and continued to draw a picture of what seemed to be a dog.

“Come on, Scotty. You’re barely even using it. How about you use a nice, dark pink or something?” Stiles asked, beginning to wave his arms every which way.

“I want the collar and mouth of my puppy to be red. I’m not changing my mind; please go borrow someone else’s,” Scott pleaded, just wanting to get back to his art piece.

“Look, Scott. I’m only gonna say this once. You better give me that crayon, because there is an insanely pretty girl, who I am completely in love by the way, over there who really needs one. And if you don’t, I’m going to… I’m going to eat your lunch!” He exclaimed to his friend, knowing that food was always the younger boy’s kryptonite.

“You wouldn’t dare,” the McCall boy narrowed his eyes toward his ally turned enemy. The mole-faced boy just crossed his arms over his chest in a reassuring manner.

The tan eight-year-old gave in with a sigh of defeat not wanting to give up his very special first-say-of-school sandwich, while handing his friend the red colouring utensil. In response, the whiskey-eyed boy jumped up in victory, patting his companion’s back in thanks. He quickly raced back where to the petite strawberry blonde was sitting.

“I-I got you a red crayon. Now you can colour in your hair and everything,” he quickly spit out, slamming the wax colouring utensil on the smooth surface of the desk.

The porcelain girl looked up to see her knight in shining amour, an ecstatic smile on her lips. At that moment, the young boy swore that his heart had stopped beating for a whole five seconds. The pale boy just responded back with a goofy smile playing on his lips knowing that he was the one causing the girl’s glee.

“Thank you so much! Now my picture is going to be perfect!” She gave him one last beaming smiles then instantly started to sketch once again, determined to finish before the free time was over.

Stiles muttered back a quick “you’re welcome” before walking back to his own seat placed next to his best friend.

Throughout the rest of the day, the caramel-eyed boy tried to communicate with the dainty emerald-eyed girl. However, the schoolgirl kept on directing all of her attention towards the pieces of drawing paper in front of her, hastily colouring pictures onto them.

By the end of the day, Stiles felt hopeless of ever talking to the brilliant girl again. Maybe she wasn’t worth getting the red crayon for. He packed his book bag with a slight slump in his shoulders.

When retrieving his pullover when he noticed a folded piece of paper place in his cubby. On the front side of the folded paper was the words “To: Stiles” and “From: Lydia” in neat, loopy handwriting. Stiles hastily unfolded the piece of drawing paper hoping deep within his soul that it was from his newfound lover.

On the paper was two neatly drawn stick figures. One boy and one girl. The boy had messy brunette hair, a forest green pullover similar to the one he was wearing at the moment, jeans and a pair of athletic trainers. The girl had bright red hair and a blue dress and delicately drawn flowers on it. Both were sporting big smiles and were connecting stick-hands.

However, Stiles didn’t pay attention to the two elated children. Instead, he directed his full attention to the large, red heart drawn between the two. The spastic boy felt a burning heat creeping onto his cheeks, turning them a red as bright as the crayon the paper.

“Stiles, we gotta visit your mom, buddy.” The voice of Sheriff Noah Stilinski brought the boy from his hypnotic daze.

As the two walked towards the Sheriff’s police vehicle, the young Stilinski boy couldn’t help but skip all the way there, repeating the name of the strawberry blonde over and over again.  

PART TWO

“it’s crazy right? to love someone who hurt you. it’s crazier to think that someone who hurts you, loves you.”

“It’s you. Whatever it is… blood, saliva, whatever soul-killing substance is running through your veins, you did this to me. You ruined it for me. You ruined everything.”

“You ruined it for me. You ruined everything.”

“You ruined everything.”

Jackson Whittemore’s words burned into the strawberry blonde’s memory as she ran into the nearest custodial closet.

Tears streamed down her perfect porcelain face as she curled into a ball in the corner of the small room. She let out sobs of heartbreak into the empty space, desperately pleading for the pain in her chest to leave her.

Lydia couldn’t even hear the tardy bell, signalling the start of another lesson, over her agonising moans.

While the emerald-eyed teenager’s heart was breaking into a million pieces, a whiskey-eyed one was cheerfully walking down the hall next to friend, a ringing noise playing in the background.

“See you at lunch,” the puppy-faced companion said, entering his second lesson of the day; leaving he mole-faced boy to wander the halls all alone, in no hurry whatsoever.

That’s when he heard the distressed calls from someone in the janitor’s closet. Stiles swore to himself that the voice was somewhat familiar as he moved closer to the wooden door.

The teenager knocked on the door softly, making the noises of misery stop abruptly with a loud whimper. Stiles’ heart hurt for the victim on the other side of the heavy door.

“Are you okay?” The boy asked gently, slowly turning the metal door handle.

“Just go away,” the feminine voice called out, her voice still thick with tears. The whiskey-eyed boy immediately stopped his process when he finally recognised the frail voice.

The voice sounded just like… like Lydia’s.

Not giving it a second thought, the spastic boy burst into the closet to save the girl he so dearly loved. The girl looked up at hime in utter shock, tears still threatening to fall from her once brilliant eyes. Finding confidence that he didn’t even knew he had, Stiles ungracefully knelt next to his third-grade crush.

The anxiety-ridden boy held the broken girl tenderly, afraid she would break in his arms if he held on too tight. He whispered softly into her hair, rubbing smooth circles on her arms.

“Wh-What happened?” Stiles stuttered, his voice still smooth like melted caramel.

“Jackson-Jackson told me that-that I ruin everything,” the sixteen-year old hiccupped delicately, starting to melt into the boy’s touch.

Stiles was angry. Angry at Jackson for breaking the girl who loved others than herself. Angry at the world for making such a beautiful girl weep tears of pain. Angry at himself for letting the strawberry blonde go through heartbreak all alone.

The two sat there for whoever knows how long, sitting on the tiled floor in a silence they both so desperately needed.

As the school bell rang once again, the boy lowered his face near her ear whispering, “You okay?” The girl nodded gently into his bicep.

The two then left the small room, going their own separate ways. The broken girl went back to perfect, popular, Lydia Martin. And the comforting boy went back to weird, awkward, Stiles Stilinski.

The mole-faced boy walked down the hallway with a smile painted on his lips, holding onto their moment for as long as he could.

What he didn’t notice was that their moment wasn’t just cherished deep in his heart, but in her’s as well.

PART THREE

“and just when i thought everyone had left me in the dark alone; you were my light, and you guided me home.”

The huntress let out a gasp of shock as a sharp, cold blade penetrated her stomach. She fell onto the ground in the arms of her first love as she let out a small whimper.

All fighting ceased as they all stared at their beloved friend through tears of shock.

The brunette beauty’s eyes burned into her old lover’s as she felt her conscious start to leave her bleeding body. A delicate drop of water left the girl’s eyes as felt her love tremble against her.

With a drop of blood left the corner of pale lips, she gave him a wavering smile knowing it was her time to leave her friends, family, life behind.

She was much too young to die. Too beautiful. Too kind. Too intelligent. Too caring. Too strong.

In the midst of her departure from the frigid, concrete floor, an ear piercing scream was let out from a certain emerald-eyed banshee; the name of a close and dear friend hanging on her lips.

Allison Argent.

A whiskey-eyed boy woke up with a start, beads of sweat sliding down his pale face. Just another nightmare. Just another painful scene played out in his sleep-ridden mind.

He started to observe his surroundings as realised that he was no longer in the warmth and safety of his own home. The mole-faced teenager noticed the brisk air, chilly breeze and solid floor beneath him. Great; he sleepwalked… Again. Stiles looked up to see he was laying right next to the fencing of Eichen House.

With a sigh on his lips, the boy picked himself up from the rough concrete, He was about to start his journey home, but he heard the crunch of leaves underneath a pair of shoes.

The pasty boy slowly walked towards the noise, curiosity getting the best of his anxiety-ridden conscious. The sounds of crunching lead him all the way to an older side entrance of the mental institute.

He abruptly stopped as he saw the culprit of the clamour. A few feet of him was the strawberry blonde teenager he grew up with sitting in front of the locked gate; a pale hand was gripping an iron bar tightly.

Stiles keenly watched as the teenage genius whispered the name of her deceased friend, a puff of smoke leaving her mouth. After the huntress’ name left her full lips, the wailing woman broke down into tears, hand still gripping onto the bars for dear life.

That’s when Stiles intervened, not bearing to watch his third-grade love cry out in agony.

The fragile girl looked up as shock as she saw her usually-sarcastic friend kneeling next to her.

“St-Stiles; what are you doing here? You got to get some rest. You’re dad’s not going to be happy,” she blubbered out, wiping her wet cheeks with the sleeve of her coat.

The boy just gave her a small smile, assuring her that he wasn’t going anywhere. He took a seat next to his companion, not daring to break the quiet forming between the two. The silence was anything but awkward. The two, sharing multiple near-death experiences, both thought the silence was more comforting than anything.  

The porcelain girl kept moans of despair within herself, not wanting to look weak in front of one of her closest friends. But when she looked back to the lifeless courtyard, all her emotions unleashed like tsunami.

She burst into distressed cries. She screeched out in pain every few seconds, not even taking a few moments to catch her rapid breaths.

The air was released of agonising shrieks once the pyjama-wearing boy wrapped his large arms around the girl’s frail body.

“I miss her. I miss her, Stiles. I miss her so much,” she whispered, her sobs wracking her body causing it to shake uncontrollably.

The jeep-loving boy looked down at his dear friend, his heart breaking along with her’s. No deserved this kind of pain at such a young age, especially someone as marvellous as Lydia Martin.

This was his fault. All this distress was caused by him. The whiskey-eyed boy wanted to be strong. He wanted to be strong for the emerald-eyed girl so badly; but he couldn’t.

Stiles finally stopped fighting his own conscious and let a few drops of salted water fall onto of the strawberry blonde’s crown.

The girl looked up with puffy red eyes as she saw tears slipping down the boy’s rosey cheeks; now it was Lydia’s turn to comfort Stiles, slipping out of his arms and wrapping him with her own.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Lydia. I killed her. I killed, Allison,” he cried out, too ashamed to glance back at his friend.

Lydia just cradled him in response, whispering reassuring things into his ear. “It wasn’t you fault. Everyone  has forgiven you; it’s time to forgive yourself.”

“How?” His tone was full of hurt, sorrow and hopelessness. The five-foot-three genius took the boy’s face into her small, chilly hands.

“Look, Stiles. I know you’re never going to forgive yourself for this; because that’s just the kind of person you are. If not, just remember me. Remember that whatever happens and what you do, I’ll always forgive you; no matter what. But please find it deep within your heart to find it. Promise me you’ll at least try to find it.” The broken boy just nodded his head, a bit of optimism running through his veins.

The strawberry blonde kissed the boy’s forehead gently and embraced him with all her might.

The pair just stayed like that; in each other’s arms; comforting each other in the desperate time of grief. It wasn’t until five in the morning when the two friends broke from their hug, interrupted by a ringing mobile phone.

PART FOUR

“he broke the girl who loved him more than she loved herself.”

Stiles sat in the driver’s seat of his beloved jeep, blood covering his shaking hands.

He started to pinch himself, praying for this to be all just a bad dream. But alas, he was still stuck in the miserable reality of life.

The whiskey-eyed boy tried so hard to erase the memories from the moments before, but they all came flooding out as he gripped the steering wheel with all his might.

He killed Donavan.

Stiles murdered someone.

What hurt the most to him was that this was all his fault. The mole-faced boy couldn’t use some excuse to cover up his mistake of the past. Allison and Aiden died because of the Oni; because of the Nogitsune. But Donavan? Donavan was killed by him and his bare hands. The teenager knew that his dad would probably just convince him that is was defence, which it was, but that didn’t change that fact that Donavan was murdered by none other than Stiles. Plain old, human Stiles.

The usually sarcastic boy watched as red and blue flashing lights came into view. How was he going to explain this to his dad? More importantly, how was he going to explain this to Scott? Scott McCall was a the definition of all the good and innocence of the world. The tan best friend forgave him for “killing” Allison, but would he really forgive him for this? Would he look at his friend the same way?

Stiles tapped his foot up and down at a rapid pace, trying to distract himself from the blaring sirens in front of him.

Tears were stinging the corners of his eyes, threatening to fall. The mole-faced boy just closed his caramel eyes and placed his forehead on top of the weathered down steering wheel.

A slight tap of his window made him up jolt up in surprise, quickly hiding his hands from view. The sarcastic boy rolled down the window to see that none other than Lydia Martin standing in front of him, her delicate fingers running up and down her arms to keep warm from the brisk air of the night.

“You alright?” She asked, concern masking her eyes as they burned into his.

“Lydia, what are you doing here?” Stiles tried his best to avert the distraction to anything but the events that occurred only moments ago.

“I, uh. I got a banshee sense or something like that. Might explain the police vehicles.” She pointed to the numerous cars blinking bright and colourful lights.

The boy knew that his friend was lying about the banshee sense, but her last words distracted him from confronting her.

“Wait; Stiles, what are you doing here?” Lydia argued, a puff of smoke leaving her pink lips.

The whiskey-eyed boy searched his anxiety-ridden mind for any excuse to save him from the situation he was in.

“Wanted to check out something in the library. Police came as I was starting to leave,” he blurted out. The strawberry blonde gave him a suspicious look knowing that he wasn’t telling the truth.

“Stiles, what happened? You can tell me,” she told him, a gentle tone to her voice.

He wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her so bad. But he was afraid. He was afraid that she wouldn’t forgive him. That she would see him as some sort of monster than friend.

The mole-faced teenager kept quiet as his friend kept pushing. “Stiles, what happened?”

After constant pressuring from the short, sassy teenager, the boy finally gave up. He had to tell her. He had to tell at least one person; this burden was too heavy to carry all alone.

With his head hanging low, Stiles pushed open the jeep door, presenting his blood-stained hands to the girl in front of him.

The small teenager gave out a small gasp, taking his large hands into her own smaller ones.

“Stiles, what happened to you?” He eyes were drowning with concern for the boy she so very much loved.

“I did something, Lydia. Something bad. Something really really bad,” he told her, not wanting to admit he committed the crime. His heart broke as he saw the shock in her eyes; far too broken to be fixed.

“You want to to tell me?” The girl softly asked. Her response was just a head shaking no. Lydia nodded, understanding the boy completely.

Remembering the wet wipes she had in her car, the strawberry blonde ran the short distance to grab them; a questioning was given to the boy still sitting helplessly in the driver’s seat.

“You don’t have to tell me, but let’s get you cleaned up.” Stiles look down at her with surprise and gratefulness etched onto his features.

The emerald-eyed teenager delicately took each hand and wiped them clean, lending her heart to him.  

“Thanks, Lydia.” The statement cut through the comfortable silence. The strawberry blonde gave him a brilliant smile in response, happy to help him in however way he needed. Suddenly, a car pulled up next to the two, interrupting their peace and quiet.

Out jumped out a friendly alpha and a peculiar werecoyote from the vehicle. Stiles’ first reaction was to panic but Lydia’s hand on his made him do otherwise.

“What are you guys doing here?” The kind puppy-faced werewolf asked his two best friends.

“We were just following my banshee instinct. We were just about to leave though,” the feisty teenager cut in before the other teenager could respond. The whiskey-eyed boy looked at his friend in admiration, thankful for his friend.

“Oh; Scott was just taking me home, but we both heard the police sirens so came here. Looks like you two covered it though,” Malia butt into conversation.

“Okay, I should be getting home; i bet my mom is already going crazy because of my sudden disappearance,” the strawberry blonde told the small group, starting to head to her car. She stopped when the werecoyote started talking.

“Hey Stiles, can I stay over at your house? I wanna snuggle,” the feisty werecoyote asked, already starting to climb into the passenger seat.

“Of course,” the teenager replied, giving his girlfriend a quick peck on the lips. He gave Lydia a smile, silently thanking her for all that she’s done for him that night.

She smiled softly back; but this time it was different. Her face smiled, but her eyes didn’t.  

PART FIVE

“i’m here. i love you. i don’t care if you need to stay up crying all night long. i will stay with you. there’s nothing you can ever do to lose my love.”

The two teenagers sat in the jeep, not daring to make a single sound; the only noise heard was the road moving beneath them.

The pair tried to ignore the past events that were burning into their minds. Ignore that Stile didn’t just break someone out of Eichen House. Ignore that Lydia didn’t just had a hole drilled in her temple. Ignore that they both just almost lost each other once again.

Natalie Martin back at the mental institute, trying to prevent her daughter from ever going back to the facility. The mother just desperately wanted all of this to blow over; all she wanted was a normal life for her and her daughter.

Meanwhile, the younger Martin girl was sitting in a warm jeep, sitting by her knight in shining amour.

“Thank you for all this,” she whispered as slowly opened the door of the jeep; deep within her heart she was pleading for her saviour to stay by her side. The mole-faced boy just gave her a curt nod, not finding the will to speak. Secretly, all he wanted to do was stay with her, protect her, and to make sure that he’ll never ever lose her again.

The passenger door to the car softly shut closed as the frail girl got out of the vehicle, afraid to face the demons of her house alone.

Just as the sarcastic boy was about to pull away, he stopped himself; not wanting to leave the girl behind all on her lonesome. She was just dead a few moments before, for crying out loud.

“No, Lydia. I’m staying here with you. I’m not leaving you,” the boy stated, climbing ungracefully out of his own electric blue door.

The girl gave him a look of surprise but still gave him a minuscule, “okay.”

The whiskey-eyed boy guided his third-grade love to her childhood home, opening the front door with the key the older Martin girl lent him.

The duo climbed up the carpeted stairs, the whiskey-eyed boy careful to make sure his companion didn’t slip. They made their way to into the pink painted room, both taking a seat on top the fluffy comforters.

The strawberry blonde felt her vision go dark, tired after the day’s events. She peeled off the robe damp of sweat, blood and tears as she slipped beneath the covers. On the other side of the room was Stiles sitting in her desk chair; he was watching her intently; as if she was going to be taken away if he didn’t.

She felt a void of warmth as she kept trying to snuggle deep within her covers. The sassy genius rubbed her arms as her breath shook from the cold.

“Stiles. Please come in my bed with me.”

The statement was but a whisper, but the sarcastic boy heard it clear as day. Heat crept onto to his freckled cheeks as he thought of sharing a bed with a girl he had been obsessed with since the third grade.

With hesitancy, the teenager pulled the soft bed covers over himself. The girl immediately leapt into his arms, the warmth returning back to her body. The spastic boy was shocked at first but eventually hugged the girl he loved back with tenderness.

This was not at all what he imagined being in bed with Lydia Martin would be like. But laying there, hugging her with all his might and her hugging him back, seemed so much better than he could ever imagine.

The two slowly drifted off to sleep, darkness filling their vision. They both went to a land where monsters, wars and death were nothing but a thing of the past. They dreamed of a better time. A times where staying up past eight was late; where they sat barefoot on the front porch, ice-cream sticking to their faces.

That’s when the darkness flooded into the strawberry blonde’s dream, turning it into a nightmare. Unwanted pain, jealousy, monsters and death invaded her mind, spreading the evil everywhere.

She woke up with a painful shriek, beads of sweat mixed with tears streaming down her porcelain face. Not even a few seconds after, the boy sat up next her, taking the broken girl into his arms.

“Too much. Everything’s just too much. Stiles, I can’t do it anymore.” He felt the vibrations of her vocal chords on his chest; pain radiated throughout his body as he tried to fix the girl’s invisible scars. It hurt. It hurt to see the one you love the most break down in front of you, wanting to leave this sick reality behind.

“Lydia, I know it hurts. But you’ve gotta stay strong. For Kira; for Scott; for me; for Allison. Just please hang in there for us. We’ll all go out of our freaking minds if you leave us; so don’t.” The teenager’s words were firm but gentle, the perfect combination. The frail girl just nodded her head slightly into the boy’s chest, wrapping her small arms around his waist harder; not wanting to let go.

“Promise me you’ll stay with me,” she muttered into his built body. Her voice was nothing but a mere whisper; just something in the wind. However, she was heard.

“Of course, Lydia. I promise that I will never leave you. I’ll always be there; no matter what,” he responded back instantly.

Stiles kept on stroking the dulled strawberry blonde hair beneath his fingertips until the girl’s breathing and heart beat became slow and peaceful once again. He gently placed the girl down on her pillow as he joined her on the other one.

The two slept next to each other, all their limbs lazily interlaced with one another’s.

When Natalie Martin came home that night a few hours later, her heart warmed at the sight of the two lovers intertwined. Tears sprung into the corners of her eyes as she realised how much the girl’s friends cared for her; how they’d always be there, no matter what.

PART SIX

“i only ever thought there were two kinds of loves: the kind you would kill for and the kind you would die for. but you, my darling, you were the kind of love i would live for.”

“I didn’t say it back.”

“You didn’t have to.”

The two lovers embraced, finally reuniting with each other once again. He was like Christmas morning, crimson fireworks and birthday wishes all at once. She was like the air inside his lungs, the first prize trophy and catching fireflies on a Sunday night.

However, their moment didn’t last long. The mole-faced boy felt as the porcelain girl was fading from his touch. The teenager gripped onto his soulmate as tight as he could, desperately trying to be with her once again. Once she finally disappeared, the whiskey-eyed boy felt as though his heart had been ripped out and his soul filled with darkness.

The spastic boy opened his eyes to see that he was still stuck in the lifeless train station, all alone; once again.

The mole-faced teenager woke up from his bed with a jolt, sweat outlining his facial features. His loving girlfriend went up along with him. Her voice already starting to calm his rapid breathing.

“Did you have another nightmare?” Her light, pillowy voice filling the silent air. The  sarcastic boy nodded in response, wiping off the sweat dripping from his sharp nose.

“Yeah, I did. I-I was still in the Wild Hunt. You didn’t bring me back. Everyone forgot me,” he panted, his body still shaking from shock.

The short girl looked at her true love with a saddened look, heavyhearted to see her boyfriend in such pain and despair. If she could, she would take his agony as her own in a heartbeat, but she can’t. All she can do is whisper encouraging words into his ear, and it agonised her that it was all she could do.

“Stiles. I’m here sitting right next to you, okay? Malia remembers you; Scott remembers you; your dad remembers you. I remember you, Stiles,” she reassured her love, kissing the side of his temple tenderly.

The emerald-eyed girl started to rub the boy’s shoulder in a hypnotising way, making him remember a dream from his past.

“Lydia, is-is this real? Are you here? Did you actually get me out?” The anxiety-ridden boy’s voice wavered; every fluctuation in tone creating another crack in the girl’s heart.

“Stiles, you got out of that awful place. We got you back from the Hunt. This is real. I’m real.” Her voice was firm but soothing; like a mother calming down a child with a scrape on their knee.

The teenage boy rested his head on his partner’s chest, finally calming from his panic attack; Lydia was always able to calm him down.

***

The feisty five-foot-three genius woke up to slight thumping noises beside her. She opened her big, emerald eyes as she looked at her boyfriend adjacent from her, struggling to put on his sneakers.

“Where are you going?” The brilliant teenager asked her beloved boy, her voice still thick with sleep. The spastic boy’s eyes jolted up to meet her own, shock written on his features.

“Lydia, why are you up so early?” The boy asked his lover, suspicion lacing throughout his words. The sassy teenager responded with a raised eyebrow, sitting up.

“Stiles,” she tested the boy, completely awake now. The anxiety-ridden boy sighed and looked down with a sign of defeat on his face.

“Look; Scott and I are going out to the reserve to check it out,” he blubbered out, closing his eyes in anticipation of his soulmate’s reaction.

The girl looked at him in surprise, worrying thoughts clouding her mind full of doubt. The caramel-eyed boy let out a heavy sigh and knelt in front of his girlfriend.

“Lydia, I’m going,” he stated, rubbing his thumb over her delicate knuckles. She bit her lip as she focused her attention to their intertwined fingers.

“I know, I know. I just-“ the strawberry blonde cut her sentence off, interlacing her dainty fingers to his larger ones. The mole-faced boy looked up to see that the girl’s emerald eyes wouldn’t meet with his own whiskey-coloured ones.

“Hey, Lydia look at me. What is it?” Stiles asked. He swiped his pointer finger underneath the girl’s delicate chin, gently lifting her face to meet his own.

“I just-I’m just scared, you know? I lost you once, Stiles. I just can’t lose you again. I just can’t…” her voice faltered at the ending. The spastic boy looked into his lover’s watering eyes, wanting to take her pain away so badly.

The jeep-loving teenager wiped away the five-foot-three girl’s unshed tears, taking her small face into her large hands. The girl looked back at her soulmate, a pained smile painted on her full, pink lips.

“Lydia, nothing is going to happen to me. I promise,” he reassured her, his calloused hands caressing her smooth, pale skin. The teenager just shook her head, averting her attention to a loose thread hanging off her fluffy comforter.

“You don’t know that. You can go playing around with Scott all you want, but please just don’t leave me. Aiden left; Allison left. Just please don’t leave me here all alone; I don’t know what I would do.” Tears were streaming down her face at this point, desperately gripping onto her lover’s hands.

In response to the girl’s breakdown, the mole-faced boy wiped away the droplets of moisture off her porcelain face.

“Lydia, I promise I won’t ever leave you. I swear to you that I will do anything to come back to you. You’ll never be alone as long as you stay with me.” Stiles pressed his slender lips against her full ones, pure love and joy running through their veins.