They hadnāt all gone their separate ways after high school, necessarily, but theyād all had things to do that took them elsewhere. Scott to school and then he eventually became a veterinarian, Lydia to school and then as some kind of --- well, to be honest, Malia canāt remember the name of what kind of job she has. Itās complicated and scientific of some sort. Stiles, of course, went to the FBI academy and then eventually became an agent in San Francisco. Most of them, though they had ties to people who still lived in Beacon Hills, did their best to notĀ settle in that town and made lives for themselves.
One of the people who made a pointĀ to not settle down really anywhere, was Malia. The moment sheād been able to go to France after high school? Sheād taken the chance and run with it. Thereād been a brief romance with Scott that sheād always cherish, but that didnāt mean she was going to stay in town with him, and because of that they cooled off a little bit. Still pack, of course, but itās hard to maintain a relationship when your girlfriend wants to travel around the world and youāre stuck in school.
Needless to say, college wasnāt really Maliaās thing.
It had been probably months since the last time she spoke with Stiles face to face. Theyād texted one another occasionally, and sheād sent him pictures of cool stuff sheād seen on her travels, but they both had busy lives.Ā
Her sudden arrival in San Francisco wouldnāt necessarily be alarmingĀ right off the bat, because she popped into everyoneās lives fairly randomly, but the fact that she showed up at Stilesā door with a little blood on her shirt and a disheveled look about her probablyĀ didnāt help, even though she looked very . . . casual,Ā and nonchalant about it. She adjusted the bag over her shoulder and gave his door a knock, before pulling her jacket a little closer around her body and waiting.
If he asks immediately, sheāll tell him the blood isĀ hersĀ and that everythingās fine while shouldering herself into his apartment.