#so I will be billing Viv for my therapy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

weeklyfangirl · 5 years ago

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Frat Boy Pt. 20

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19

Happy New Year!!!!!! Here’s a party and a hot guy loving on you - and you don’t even have to leave your home ;)

I haven’t been to many therapist offices after I started high school. This one was free, on student-life. Reproduced images of the sea were comforting enough, but it was the dreary stained carpet that reminded me where I was.

“Do you think they’re related to the night you were assaulted?”

“Yes. But I don’t know how to get rid of them. I lose sleep and then when I do sleep, I have these nightmares and I wake up more restless than if I’d just stayed up all night.”

“Hm. And how do you feel about Harry?”

“Harry?”

She nodded. “Yes, the boy in your dreams.” Her French manicured nails squeezed the top of her clipboard.

“That’s not an easy question.”

“Try.”

I sighed. “Okay…” The painted seagull in her office looked like an on-clearance print at TJ Maxx, and suddenly I wished I’d called my mother for her own version of therapy instead. Bargain shopping. “I think I hate him. But then I know I don’t. But then… I don’t necessarily like him either.”

“Do you love him?”

I laughed. “No, I don’t love him.”

“Why do you laugh?”

“I said I almost hated him and you ask me if I love him!” But my voice was a little too loud. The question stayed with me, stirring in my mind. “I think I’d know if I loved him.”

“Love looks different to different people. Finding a healthy version of love for yourself and your partner is where things can go awry. Or right.”

I remembered Harry and I talking at Alta about Madame Bovary, and how I’d told him that people love to the best of their abilities, from what they’ve learnt by their circumstances. Silence weighed in the room, and I knew she was waiting for me to elaborate on my feelings. Bleh.

“I don’t know,” I finally said. “But if this is what love looks like to him… We’re not even technically dating so this question doesn’t even apply!” I laughed again. “But then… even if we were, then... it’s not enough.”

“And what would be enough for you?”

“Stability.”

“And do you think this is possible with him?”

“Umm…” Zayn’s voice popped in my head - Harry was a magnet for infamy - and I laughed. I laughed, and I laughed...“No.”

“And why is that?”

“Because he self-sabotages. And he says things he doesn’t mean.”

“Such as...?”

A puff of breath left my lips. “Like last night, he said I didn’t have a life. And then he was comparing me to another girl. Viv. She’s like his… sister, basically. She grew up with him. But… he got really defensive and said at least she fucks me. But the fact that he said I don’t have a life?? A LIFE?? I mean shit, it’s not my fault he’s infiltrated my dreams is it?”

She shook her head. “It’s very important for you not to blame yourself. Show yourself the same kindness you’d show your friends. Renny, for example.”

Be kind to yourself.

I nodded. Those were the words my mother would say whenever I’d critique myself. Just like all those times before, the words registered, but it didn’t change anything about the frustration I felt. I was the one dumb enough to let him in. I’d let myself be dragged into him, even with every red flag hitting me in the face. I was collecting them for a meme bouquet at this point!

“Do you believe him?” she asked.

It took me a minute to hear her.

“The words he said to you,” she said. “That you don’t have a life.”

A timer beeped on her phone. She muted it. “I’d like you to write out what you want in your life for next time. Not what anybody else wants. But what Y/N wants. When you see it written out, no matter how silly it seems, having concrete answers might help.”

--------------

I was staring at my notes page, trying to think of what I wanted. I didn’t exactly have the chance to ask her what she meant by that. Did she mean career goals? Education goals? Relationship goals? What did this have to do with ending my nightmares?

A text at the top of my phone distracted me from the blank page.

Kiki: “Don’t worry, we didn’t forget about you. Get your hands on the special airhead pills from Harry’s and bring them to the DG Pretty Please Party next week. On the DL obvi.”

Viv chimed in on the group chat. “Congrats bitch! It’ll be fun for all of us.” She included the devil emoji.

This is what I got for stalling up until the last minute to walk into work. The practice was now a blatant reminder that Harry was out of my life and it didn’t help whenever I saw Lionel. It felt weird that I was seeing his dad more than him. Wrong, even.

Voices carried through the lot along with the clicking of heels. I turned my head.

Boss Lady Samantha was headed towards the elevator.

Shit, Y/N. Shit shit shit.

I got out, quietly closing the door. Better to walk with my boss than walk in late after her, right? Her red hair was let down today, ringlet curls in full effect. I could meet her at the elevator before it arrived.

But right when I was about to shout out hold the elevator Lionel walked right behind her. And I mean RIGHT behind her - there was hardly room for a Bible between them.

I hid behind my car, unsure if I was supposed to be seeing this.

Their voices were too low to hear, but his arm lingered at her lower back before the elevator opened. She got in. Alone. Lionel looked over his shoulder and I ducked further.

Through Grandpa’s windows, I saw the elevator door close. Lionel waved goodbye to Samantha and he pressed the button again.

Before chickening out, my shoulders straightened. I shouldn’t have to be the one hiding. I jogged to make it. His brows shot up in surprise as he held the elevator for me. The kindness I’d gotten used to seeing in his eyes looked hesitant this time.

“A little late today?” he asked, as soon as I’d made it in.

I avoided his eyes, nodded. It was a quiet elevator ride.

------------

My family’s house was a ten minute drive from the practice. Enough drive time to sit on what I’d seen outside Coast Shores Medicine. It could’ve been friendly. I didn’t have to do anything about this. But in my bones, I knew that friendly isn’t what I’d seen. Lionel avoided me the rest of the day, assigning me to print out billing statements. I hadn’t seen them make out or anything, but there was a certain intimacy I couldn’t write off right away. Did Mrs. de Saude know about his close work relationships? Did Harry?

The sickening uneasiness dissipated when I heard my parent’s Home Improvement HGTV hour. Dad was already passed out on the couch, snoring at a whopping 8 PM when I walked through the door. Ignoring Mom’s tutting of “they keep you too late,” we went to my bedroom.

“Pick the nude ones,” Mom said, adjusting the spectacles she only pulled out on rare occasions (magazine reading and shoe selections). “It makes your legs look longer.” It looked like there was something more she wanted to say.

I adjusted them in the mirror, wearing the blush dress I’d bought for my aunt’s beach wedding almost a year prior. It’d never been worn. Her Spanish fiancé she’d met three months prior stole her TV set and ran off with his gay lover a week before. As I stood, the dress just barely touched the floor. Simple, really, but the way the thin straps exposed my chest rendered it elegant. I felt like I needed a long cigarette and fur coat to make it complete.

Without context, Mother suddenly burst into an annoyed huff.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Hm?” Her lashes fluttered as if she hadn’t realized she’d made a noise. “Oh, yes. I’m fine. Your father just took another one of those sleeping pills. You should never get too dependent on medication, Y/N. Drink warm milk or something.”

“Mom.”

“I’m serious!” Her stony face certainly wasn’t comical.

“I know.”

She looked me over in the dress again and caught herself, pulling me in for a rushed hug. “I’m sorry,” she breathed. She rocked me a little. “It’s just been a little rough this week.” She squeezed me tighter, then let me go. All negative energy shoved into a box that’d spring open when we all least expected it. “Have a good night tonight. Say hello to Harry for me!”

When I walked to the car she threw out, “And tell him next time he can ask you with a Cartier ring! HA! I’m joking!! ... Kind of!!!”

I smiled, waving to her at the gate as I got into my Grandpa mobile. I didn’t have the heart to tell her Golden Boy wasn’t my date.

---------

There were two cops for every solo cup I could see littered on the ground. They patrolled the streets, but the frat house seemed unphased and restored to its former glory as I walked with Andre. Club music pounded beyond the doors, practically shaking the windows. Girls huddled up outside, holding each other’s hair back and trying to block anyone’s view from the bile, as the guys snickered over their shoulders and some pretended not to see. But the cops weren’t here to reprimand for underage drinking and public intoxication tonight. They were on watch. Stationed around the perimeter of the house and on either end of the street.

They were waiting for something else. For somebody else.

Andre seemed oblivious, practically skipping past them he was so excited. I, on the other hand, was already limping from the nude pumps.

“Wanna switch shoes?” he called back.

“Don’t make a deal you aren’t willing to keep,” I smiled, quirking a brow. “The nude would actually match your navy suit…”

He’d already walked on, fist bumping the bouncer who raised up a professional-grade camera and snapped a photo of us. When my eyes recovered from the flash, I spotted Officer Ramirez from the uniforms just beyond the frat’s ramshackle fence. He was already watching me. He raised two fingers above his brow and I nodded, curtly, even though I wanted to shrink inside myself. I hadn’t had the time to think about what I would say if he contacted me again, or if I should be the one to reach out to him.

Andre led me inside, and for once, I was glad I couldn’t hear my own thoughts. It raised ten degrees just from stepping inside. The boys were in Bond suits, but most had abandoned their jackets wherever they could - on the banister, the couch beneath the staircase, or the entrance hall. The girls had dressed up, too. This was the most covered up I think I’d seen some of them, though others still opted for above-the-knee slips.

“Oi, where’s your drink?!” Niall’s familiar voice shouted above the bass.

He pulled Andre into a side hug before we reached the dancefloor. When he saw me, Niall practically fell over.

“Y/N! What’re you doing here?” He spluttered, whiskey in his breath. The knot of his tie was already to his chest, but he loosened it even more. He looked over his shoulder, then back to me. “Renny’s just gone to the bathroom.”

“She’s my date,” Andre stepped in, placing an arm around my shoulder. It was completely platonic but Niall’s face went to stone.

Suddenly it cracked, and he laughed, running a hand over his stubbly chin. “Oh, shit.” He laughed again. “Shit!”

Andre smiled, unaware of anything else besides the fact that Niall must be proud he showed up with a date. He patted Niall’s shoulder. “We’re going to see the big bro, I’ll find you later.” Andre nodded his head for me to follow, leaving Niall cackling to himself in the entranceway.

“Niall’s THE. MAN,” he put his hands up for emphasis. “He’s my favorite in the house besides my big. We gotta say hi, then you can run off. Oh, Renny’s here too!” He squeezed my shoulders as if to excite me, as if she’d be the reason I’d stay. Loved the girl, but I knew she’d be back on top of Niall five minutes after she was out. I just didn’t want to have to watch.

I wrung my hands together, growing nervous. I knew the reason Niall had reacted that way was because Harry was going to be here. I knew this coming into it. But I’d been expecting him to ignore me the entire night. With Niall’s reaction, I wasn’t so sure anymore. What had Harry told Niall?

Someone sloshed their beer on me as I passed, and I turned sour, rolling my eyes as Andre pushed us forward. I picked up the pace before he could notice I’d stopped and wiped the glare off my face. Or, tried. I probably just looked constipated now.

WHY WAS HIDING EMOTION SO HARD??

I felt bad feeling so annoyed. Andre was excited. I should be excited, right? Sloshed beer and sweaty bodies came with the territory. Though I’d forgotten how humid it got in here. Hell and Florida were probably cooler. I picked up the ends of my dress, hoping for some sort of ventilation to reach parts of me that were on the verge of overheating.

The coffee tables and couches had been moved from the center of the living room to the fringes beneath the stairwell to make designated smoking and dancing sections. I could’ve stayed on the outside of the dance crowd. Hell, I could’ve joined the spaced-out smokers on the couch. But I didn’t. I followed Andre to the middle of the dance floor. I could barely see above the tops of people’s heads until we reached a bit of a clearing. And by clearing, I meant the sweaty dancers in front of us who made a break for freedom and gave us about ten seconds of space before other bodies rushed to fill it.

I felt him before I saw him. A tiny prick of consciousness that directed my gaze. And Andre’s finger.

“AYYYY!!!!!” Andre pointed to the DJ booth, waving his hands as he hollered.

Even with the rocking vibration of the bass that chattered my teeth, each nerve in my body went alert. Harry stood, flashing a white smile to the crowd before downing the rest of whatever potion was in his cup. I hated how my stomach clenched just by seeing him. He saw Andre and his smile grew, grabbing the mic. I was still unnoticed, hidden by dim lighting and nameless peers.

“Who’s ready for us to win tomorrow!?” His voice was low, demanding. It was a question for the crowd, but he was looking at Andre. I could sense the intensity even there, and it was then I realized it couldn’t be just me who feels so vulnerable around Harry. Each person he traps in his gaze stays there, until he lets them go.

The house erupted in cheers, but I was locked in place. The suit he was wearing looked similar to the one from the Halloween gala, and every bit of him looked just as stunning. His beautiful body swayed on the makeshift stage.

“Then let’s see you jump in-” His hand held up 5, 4, 3, 2… He spun another song and the crowd sprung from the floor before crashing back down. They jumped to the beat he made. A modern-day puppet master.

Andre wrapped an arm around me as he jumped. So I did, too.

“That’s my big!!” he yelled, mid-air.

“WHAT??”

He pointed to the DJ booth, but there was no one there besides Harry.

“.... HARRY??! HARRY’S YOUR- your…” I stopped jumping the same second Harry saw us together. It’s funny. It takes only a second to flip a dime on its head. His party boy mask dropped in an instant. The low lighting turned his eyes black, but they couldn’t conceal the daggers he shot straight at me.

“I have to use the bathroom,” I muttered.

Andre nodded. “S’UP THE STAIRS!” He found a friend nearby and latched on to him instead.

The small (okay, medium) part of me filled with nothing but Petty™ wanted Harry to see me with his little. But another part of me couldn’t handle his judgmental glare. Somehow, I was embarrassed. I didn’t want him to think I’d come here tonight to make him jealous. That I was so obsessed with him I’d found another in to the frat. I didn’t want him to think he controlled any part of my heart. What did it say that I ran away at first sight, though?

I’d already done it. It didn’t matter. Either way, I didn’t win.

I raced upstairs, weaving my way between couples sitting on the stairs, hoping that the line for the restroom was really long and Renny hadn’t already left. It was, and she was next in line.

“Oh my God, what are you doing here?!” she screeched, arms out and eyes squinted until I could no longer see her pupil.

“Why do people keep asking me that.”

She pulled me into an extra-long, extra-tight Renny hug. “Love yousoooomuch,” she rushed. Her breath smelled like Niall as she pulled away. She lifted the cup to my lips and I shook my head. She frowned.

“I talked with Niall,” she said. “He says Harry’s just going” - she hiccupped - “through a lot right now. S’best to leave him alone.”

The other girls in line perked up at the mention of his name, subconsciously leaning closer. I huffed. “Trust me. I am.”

When three girls stumbled out of the only bathroom stall, Renny rushed in. “Thank God I was about to pee on the carpet.” She tried tugging me in with her, but my eye was on the end of the hall. And the stupid DG pretty please.

“I’ll be back,” I muttered, squeezing her hand.

“Nooooo,” she drawled.

I squished her cheeks, checked her pupils. She didn’t need me to hold her hair back this time. I gave her cheek a lil slap.

“I’ll go with you next time you have to go. Which will be in like... twenty minutes. You broke the seal rookie!” I teased.

I didn’t even bother looking over the railing at the party below to see if he was watching me. I still had my DG task and a nonrefundable deposit to think about. I didn’t think I’d get many chances to be in this house again unless I swindled Andre or Niall into letting me in. But that would require an explanation, and I wasn’t sure I could tell them that.

Forget explanations. I needed to do it now. Lots of noise. Tons of distractions. I’d just think of it as… borrowing?

His door was locked and I groaned, kicking it and leaving a smudge beside all the others. I reached for a bobby pin in my purse and put it to work. I’d done it before in his bedroom, I could do it again here. The curve of the hallway protected me from onlookers waiting in line in the bathroom. Downstairs was a mixed bag. People could probably see through the railings running along the top floor.

Not that they’d think to look.

My knees were starting to hurt by the time I heard it click. I crept in, and for some reason, I expected his room to look different. But it was still the same. Dusty desk across from a queen-sized bed. Only one photograph atop his bedside mantle. And it didn’t smell like sweaty soccer clothes, but clean. With hints of a woodland spice and books. It felt like eons had passed since I was first here, undressing him like the drunken baby he’d been. As an act of betrayal, my body rushed at the thought of how his fingers had looped around my belt loops, tugging me closer. I swallowed, the image of his tightened pants expanding in my head. He’d almost been hard, then.

It was then, at that moment, that I decided that the one sip of alcohol I’d had must have been spiked with SOMETHING because I would NOT be that girl. I would NOT. I reFUSED TO LET MYSELF-

Seconds later, my fingertips grazed his soft gray sheets. He’d been sprawled out right about here, and the rush of seeing unseen skin on Harry had been too intoxicating an offer to refuse. The ghost of that rush flowed through me again as my memory played it over like a movie. Close-ups and panning shots - Down his toned chest to tattoos speckled along tan skin, tattoos that had been seemingly doodles, but now held much more meaning now that I knew of his history with the ocean. For his sister. My body leant down before I knew what I was doing, and I inhaled. The lingering aroma of his body chemistry altering his cologne: musky, a little spice, and warmth.

Even if every ounce of me wanted to dislike him, the legitimate biology behind my body responded to a chemistry I couldn’t control.

“What are you doing?”

He caught me on my knees, with one hand clutched in the sheets.

Fuckity FUCK-

He could whip out PSYCHO magazine informing people of highly-dangerous murderers with my mugshot plastered across the cover - and I’d believe him in that moment. Oh my gosh. Omgomgomg. He didn’t say what I expected him to say when he swayed in, though.

“Andre. Really?” He laughed to himself, but it was cold. “Fucking” - he stumbled, leaning on the desk chair to catch himself- “really?”

It wasn’t the alcohol that’d put him on edge. I’d seen him handle liquor before, but this time he looked… different. I stood up, realizing his eyes were racking down my dress. I crept towards him, hoping to make it past the door. Not because I was scared of him. But because I was mortified. I’d just looked like an absolute fucking psychopath AND I’d snuck into his bedroom. Maybe I could distract him. Maybe he was too drunk to ask me-

“What’re you doing here?”

“What are we… all doing here? At parties?”

“…in my room,” he clarified.

Welp. My philosophical question fell flat. Wouldn’t be the first time.

I waltzed past him, tight-lipped. In defense of my dignity, I still didn’t owe him anything. Not after how he’d treated me.

“Hey,” his arm jutted out, blocking my way. His brows crossed as he turned to a petulant boy. “S’rude to not answer.”

My blood boiled. “You are not about to give me a lesson on how bad it is to ignore people right now. Nor on being rude.”

“Can give you another one.”

He reached for me, but I stepped back, somewhat living in the hurt that flashed in his eyes at my rejection.

“You’re not leaving.” But his demand sounded like a plead.

“Thought you didn’t want me around you,” I scoffed, tearing past him. “Just because you’re drunk or high or whatever the fuck it is you are right now, doesn’t mean you can just… get a free pass! For a week! A whole week of awful-” I turned quickly, too frustrated to find the words. I took a step towards the door but-

“Y/N.” He was right behind me. His breath warmed the nape of my neck, the delicate hairs standing on end. No matter how much of an absolute mess he was, my body didn’t know better. I could practically feel him behind me, his presence radiating an alarm that blared through my veins. I wanted him. Badly. He trailed a finger down my arm, and his hand brushed against my own against my side. “I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

His fingers gingerly interlaced with mine, turning me around.

Something wet was on my cheek. I touched it, quickly rubbing it away in horror. Why were tears running down my face?! What unfair cruelty was this!? He saw my tears and leant down, suddenly defeated, pulling my body with him.

“Why did’ya ever want me hm?” His nose went along my jaw. Full lips pressed against the base turned my legs weak. There was an underlying desperation to his words though, a prayer in his kiss. But my thoughts were turning anything but holy.

“Who says I did…” I wanted to pull away, ask him why he’d used past tense or why he’d completely ignored me this past week, but I was frozen by the softness of his hands. Self-respect was surely slipping away each moment I lingered. I could literally see Jane Austen parting the heavens and sticking her angelic head through Harry’s room to shame me with a glare. I do all this mental work to try and figure this guy out and… for what? I should be waltzing out that door, declaring I’d never talk to him again. I should give up messy and confused and pursue my own sanity. But the air only ever turned electric with him, in all his messiness, in all this confusion… and each time the spark appeared, it pushed us closer together until he was here, like this, soft hands gently running along my lower back, skilled fingertips feeling the dress fall slightly inwards at my waist, tracing a map of uncharted waters…

“You’re not thinking straight,” I breathed. And that went for both of us.

“Au contraire, I’m thinking clearer than I ever ‘ave.” There was a swirling madness shining through, but he bat his eyes and it was veiled again, vanished beneath the dark surface. He tilted his head, appraising my body, noticing my legs were no longer tensed to run, but in apprehension for another reason completely. A smirk settled in. “Why do you still want me?” he demanded, pulling me against him towards the bed.

“Arrogant ass,” I sniped, but I landed on him anyway. His fingers tightened around my waist, a hand snaking up behind to entwine with my hair. I felt him harden beneath me as he pulled my head to the side, just the right amount of rough. But he stalled over vulnerable skin, lips ghosting featherlight up to my ear. He let out a soft breath and I clenched in anticipation. For once, I had no thoughts. “You should be with me,” he breathed. “Should be mine.” His voice grew frustrated and he practically growled, lips kissing my neck, steady, before they started to suck in a rhythm. The shock of the sensation masked the shock from his words and my back arched, a spider’s shiver crawling down my spine. He stopped suddenly, shooting back like he’d been shocked. His grip softened ‘round the nape of my neck, and he looked so… confused. “Can’t mark you again,” he noted, despondent. But then the corners of his lips twitched up in a smirk. “Least where it’s visible.” My breath caught. His black ink eyes showed the slightest ring of green. I don’t remember lifting my hand, but fingers trailed along dark circles. These were a new development. I shook my head lightly. Something was wrong. This was wrong. I leant in, resting my head against his. “Harry-” but his lips cut me off before I could mention it.

I felt like I’d been feeling his lips everywhere but my own. They were eager, but kept pace, switching it up just when I was getting comfortable, slowing to make me feel the soft fullness of raspberry-pink lips. They were pillows, and clouds, and everything else soft and wonderful that I’d want to feel forever. He slipped in his tongue, deepening the kiss, and I ground my body against him, using his shoulders as leverage.

This wasn’t me. But I didn’t care enough to think about ‘who I was’ anymore. What did I want?

I felt him pulse between my legs.

“Harry,” I bit my lip, and I knew then. I’ve been wanting more, I’ll always want more. I was more aware than ever of an emptiness he could fill.

“Been hard ever since I saw you bouncing in that dress,” he said gruffly. “With fucking Andr- ahh...fuck.” I rocked my hips against him in spite, putting a hand over his mouth to shut him up.

But his head jutted back and came forward again. He looked at me through hooded eyes, and just like that I was sedated by his gaze, my body pausing. He looked like he was about to scold me. “Do it again.” His voice was low. I stalled, looking at the way his lips barely parted. “Don’t be shy now, Y/N.” My hips replied on command, but rebelliously, slowly, feeling the length of him run between the thin underwear that’d cocooned itself against my ridges and folds. I ran my hips back down against his thigh. “Fu-uhck-” He jutted his hips up, turning something wicked when I moaned. The friction from the dress and pressure from my own body rocking against Harry built a tightly coiled knot I wanted desperately to release. And then we were kissing again. Fervent. Eager. A skilled tongue slipping in to dance with my own. He was rock hard against me. I could feel the full outline pressed tight against his slacks now, creating my own mental map. My hands wrapped in his hair, and I pulled, relaxing our pace, rutting myself up with purpose to rotate in a circle at his clothed tip. The noise from his throat wasn’t human, and I felt heavy and light all at the same time when his thumb dug into my chin just under my lower lip.

“Wanna help you,” he rumbled. “Will you let me? Won’t you do that for me?”

I nodded, wordlessly, and with both hands tight on my hips, he tugged us further back until he was against the pillows, and me, repositioned above him. He pulled us down and we built a rhythm against his thigh, the determination in his stitched brow as he did half the work making it even sexier. He was almost needier than me. There was an urgency to his strong hands as they hiked up my dress, fingertips dancing around and just beneath the band of my underwear. He didn’t pull it off, just gently pushed my hips up and down, then harder, faster, to the damp patch already on his slacks. I was buzzing, every inch of me, the wound coil growing bigger, tighter, the build of release making my heart race. He stared at me as we moved together.

“Tha’s it. So good at this,” he mumbled. “So beautiful.”

My breath caught, and his wide eyes watched wondrously as I moved frenzied above him. His chest rose, bits of tattoo spilling past the white button-down collar. My hand clutched his shirt as I felt myself begin to peak. This was as intimate as I’ve been with someone, and the pressure of being seen through his eyes like this was a lot of pressure. I didn’t want to think about how many other girls had been in this position before. What he spoke to them, how they looked, what they’ve done, or how recently they’d done it. His hand cupped my face and brought me down, lips claiming me to the point of bruising and silencing voiceless thoughts. The pull of his lips, and the sturdiness of his thigh made me whimper. My swollen bud hit his clothed cock with each surge upwards, his hands guiding me, making sure my breath hitched each time. And each time, I’d feel him tense. Again, and again, just knowing his thick hard cock was against me, right against me, almost…

“Almost… Harry…”

“Y/N,” he rasped. I felt his hot gaze as I shuddered above him. He kissed me, slow, swallowing another whimper as a current of electricity ran from the crown of my head to my toes. His hands helped me ride out my high, slowly coming to a halt.

He opened his arms, letting me cuddle up against his chest. Silence stretched on over quiet breathing. “Been waiting a long time for that,” he finally mumbled. I quirked an eye open, realizing he’d been watching me. I almost didn’t recognize his eyes. For once, they seemed sated. Unhaunted. The clouds had seemed, for a moment, to have parted. “To see you cummm.” He hummed the last word, leaning down and nuzzling the nook of my neck. Still nuzzling, he quirked half his face to look at me. We shared a long kiss, then a shorter one to my forehead. “You’re magnificent.”

Though I hadn’t removed a stitch of clothing, I hadn’t felt more naked. And for all the times I’d felt embarrassed around Harry, at least in this moment, he made me feel comfortable about what we’d just done. We lay there, my scent now mingling with the rest of his in the room. I still felt him hard beneath my legs that were strewn across his lap, and I wondered if it was … painful. He stirred, placing one hand behind his head, the other wrapped around me.

I traced shapes into his chest. He hummed, smiling softly. It was his boyish smile. The one I’d hardly seen, the one that you want to wrap up and cuddle and protect from the world to keep this one second of pure happiness intact. I pecked the corner of his mouth and his smile broke, squeezing my side. “Thank you,” he mumbled. I checked to make sure his eyes were still closed when I looked down at the black slacks. Since I finished, he should, too. I swallowed nervously as my fingers traced lower, down the button down as I tried to remember the porn Renny and I had watched together one late summer night. His eyelashes fluttered open, and he watched me, curiously, darkly, until I stopped at the tip of his pants. I slipped my fingers beneath the belt, just barely feeling the coarseness of hair before he took my wrist in his hand. He practically hissed and I stilled, not noticing I was holding my breath. I couldn’t possibly be doing this wrong…

His index finger stroked the top of my hand, and I relaxed.

He looked at me gently. “Tonight was for you. S’all I wanted.” His touch was just as gentle, and he placed his thumb between my lips, running over them gently. I didn’t want him to see me as some pure untouched thing he should be scared to do anything with. My lips parted as seductively as I could make them appear, and I moved to let his finger in my mouth, but he cheekily closed my lips instead.

He stroked my cheek, almost giggling at my attempt. “This just isn’t how I picture it happening.”

The way his eyes were memorizing my lips told me he’d thought about this before, but I didn’t miss that he said how, and not where. Muffled EDC music vibrated his door, and faraway voices travelled through his open window from the yard below. The cops were waiting there, too. Was that the situation he was referring to?

“You deserve a lot, Y/N.”

I heard the hesitancy in his voice, some unforeseen disappointment he wouldn’t just spell out for me. “What’re you saying.”

“Just that there’s few things I want t’be sober for these days.”

The thought hit my stomach like the sharpened blade of a knife, and it hurt worse than any wound from my nightmares. “Why would you say something like that?” I demanded.

“Because it’s true.” His eyes searched mine, and I saw the sadness pulling him in. Like the tumultuous water of the middle of the ocean spirally inwards into itself. A treacherous water hole that’d carry you into its deepest abyss.

I shook my head as if to find a way out, as if that would clear away what I was seeing. “I never… know what’s going on with you,” I admitted. I thought to the interaction with Lionel and Samantha. “Is home life really that bad?”

“What home?” He huffed when I looked at him. “M’serious. I feel more alone when I walk in there than I do when I’m here. And nobody even fucking knows me here.”

“Everyone knows you.”

“You’re smarter than that, Y/N.”

“What’d you take tonight, hm?” I cooed. My hand traced the dark circles under his eyes, and he leant against my touch before looking to the window, still allowing me to touch him. No doubt from whatever stimulant or depressant he’d taken, his words had been more candid than ever before.

“A cocktail of sorts. Will fucking regret it in the mornin’. Probably.”

He looked back to me, and I didn’t have time to wipe the concern from my face. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. It’s okay. It doesn’t matter,” he stated.

He really believed it when he said it, and the way there didn’t seem to be enough energy left in him made me settle back in his arms with a frown. Because it did matter. It mattered a lot. A few moments later, he squeezed my sides. “You didn’t answer my question,” he mumbled.

“What question?”

He waited until I looked up at him, and even then he was hesitant. His voice was quiet when he spoke, intimate, so if even if someone was standing at the foot of the bed they couldn’t hear what he was about to ask.

“Why do you want me, Y/N?”

The vulnerable question hung in the air. And though it was presumptuous of him to ask, he wasn’t wrong. His eyes read me like a book he’d read a hundred times over. He saw me. I swallowed, my brain and heart at an all-out war. Unfortunately for me, they captured my tongue in a stale-mate. “I don’t know what I want.”

And it was true. The dilemma was the following:

The only thing my body wanted was him.

But my brain didn’t know if that’s what I should be wanting anymore.

And my heart was left in the middle of them both, not sure what it was feeling.

I felt him shrug. “I get it. I have so many opinions shouting at me in my head right now. About soccer, my fucked family, about” - he threw his hands between us.

After Niall had greeted me at the door, I was sure Harry had talked about us in some capacity. But how many people had opinions on our relationship? “Let me guess. Viv shares her opinion about us.”

“I don’t listen to hers.”

“But hey, at least she fucks you right.”

He sucked in a breath, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean that.”

“But it’s true, right? So no need to apologize.”

The room froze over. Just the thought of her whispering in his ear was enough to trigger an entire week’s worth of pent-up animosity.

“So maybe people are confused why Viv and I aren’t together but I couldn’t give a fuck about what they think. I fucking hate that we’re even talking about her right now.”

“What do they say?”

He rolled his eyes, hurriedly slanting his voice, “Viv’s gorgeous mate, she clearly wants you. What the fuck are you doing now?”

I flinched. He noticed. “Look, I seriously hate talking about this. Can we talk about the fact that I didn’t invite anyone tonight?”

“Aw, was Viv busy?”

“Alright, stop.”

A chill shot down my spine at the rejection. As much as I wanted to appreciate the fact he didn’t invite anyone, it didn’t help. This wasn’t helping at all. “I’m sorry if I want to talk about your relationships that directly affect me,” I said, rolling out of his arms.

“Y/N, please. It’s not like that.” His voice was tired, pleading, coaxing me to forget.

“But why are you like this? Why did you just say what you did to me?”

“You asked me-”

“It was very belittling.” I changed my voice to a dopey British accent, “Viv’s gorgeous what the fuck are you doing with Y/N?” I ignored his scowl. “Really, thanks for the best compliment of the night.” I pushed against his chest, annoyed. “And why are you being like this now? All cuddly and-”

“It’s not one-sided.”

I felt my cheeks heat. “Not tonight. But it’s one-sided any other time.”

“S’that what you really think of me?” He pulled me closer, and I fought the urge to twist away. His forehead pressed into my hair. “Firstly, you’re fucking beautiful Y/N. You have to know this. And you have to know you’re important to me. And secondly…”

“Thirdly,” I corrected.

His eyes turned somber. “They’re watching,” he mumbled, pleading. “This is hard for me, too.”

The gang, the cops, both, whichever it was, it didn’t matter. The effect was the same. No matter how special he claimed I was to him, we always went in circles. Maybe he had gotten it right. Maybe it was better for both of us if we weren’t together. “Why is it so hard then?” I whispered.

“Nothing good comes easy.”

I remained silent. It was a cop-out response.

He ran a hand down his face and sat up. “Because I’m fucked! I’m fucked, Y/N and there’s only so many people I can hide from. And you aren’t one of them.”

It was the most candid he’d ever been with me, without revealing anything at all.

A knock sounded at the door.

I went to move, but he kept me against him, covering my ears as he shouted-

“FUCK OFF!!”

But even with his hands over my ears, it wasn’t very muted. The knock grew louder, more obnoxious.

“Sorry,” he grumbled, moving to open the door. When it opened, a boy wearing a snapback around the same height as Harry leant against the doorframe.

“Wassup, man-” Snapback almost burst in.

Harry’s back went stiff as the stranger’s snapback practically poked Harry in the eye. If their overcompensating confidence and too-familiar smile told me anything – freshmen. At least Snapback’s friend wore a Bond-inspired bow-tie t-shirt.

Harry put a hand to Snapback’s chest, backing him back out of the room. They watched me walk up behind him.

“Hey, relax man, we just wanted to get some zombies,” Bowtie bargained.

“You’ve got some fucking balls,” he snarled.

My ears pricked. He was looking for the same thing, then. From Harry. My heart sunk to the lowest part of my belly after remembering why I’d come here in the first place. The sliver of hope I’d had was that maybe what Zayn had witnessed was just Harry’s past. A summer blunder. A summer fling with an illegal hobby. You know, some kids did drugs, some kids sold drugs... It was a ridiculously stupid comparison now that I thought about it. But still, I had hope. Now my undeniable denial was being shred up right in front of me.

The cops, the gang, the drugs circulating campus…

Harry had made his bed, and I was lying in it.

I squeezed past him.

“Wait, are you leaving?” He still blocked his doorway.

I ignored the pang of guilt I felt at his boyish disappointment. He looked at me, body still intimidatingly rigid, but his eyes, impossibly soft. Snapback tried to move past him again and Harry whipped his head back with a growl. “Get the fuck out of here.”

“Excuse me?” Bowtie came closer, puffing out his muscled chest. Testosterone, angst and alcohol were never the best combination. I grew nervous at the tension, looking from my escape at the end of the hall, back to Harry.

“C’mon, we have the cash. We’ll pay double!” Snapback whined, cornering him.

The words made me nauseous, conjuring the image of Viv sliding Harry the cash. I didn’t want to see this again. I didn’t want to see anything again.

“I don’t do that shit anymore.” He strode through their barricade, determined, but Bowtie tugged him back. His nostrils flared and I could tell he was trying to keep his cool. He could ruin these guys if he wanted to. I don’t know why he was letting them keep him. But I also didn’t know why I didn’t run away. It was like watching a train wreck seconds before it happened.

I stood alone, in the center of the hall, the only person on Harry’s horizon. A lighthouse hoping to steer the sailor home.

“C’mon, please man, everyone’s talking about them. We just need one,” Snapback exhorted. He put up his hands, pleading. “We’ll split one. We’ll seriously cut it in half.”

Even from here, I could see the muscles in his neck tense. I tried doing to him what he did to everyone else. I trapped him, wide-eyed, anchoring him to me. He didn’t break our stare.

As if each word scraped against his skull, “I said I don’t do that shit.”

“That’s a fucking joke. Mark got some last week,” Bowtie barked.

I saw the moment I lost him. In what world I thought I could be enough to harbor him, I had no idea. Harry snapped, kicking the steroid-pumped kid so hard in the knee, it knocked him down. It wasn’t a broken bone, but it’d leave one hell of a bruise.

“Dude, are you crazy?!” Snapback cried.

Harry raised his fist, bringing it flying. I gasped and hid my face. But I didn’t hear an impact. I faced them again.

Harry’s fist froze inches before his cheek. Facing what would have been a badly broken nose, Bowtie shook on the floor. Slowly, ever so slowly, Harry relaxed his hovering fist and folded his arms, squatting next to the quivering guy. “You’re fucking welcome I was in a good mood ‘fore you came, otherwise I wouldn’t be acting so polite.”

The squeak of a floorboard shook Harry back to Earth. He caught me walking away and his whole body straightened, once again hyper-focused on me, trying to tune in and trap me exactly where I stood. Taking advantage of his distraction, Snapback and Bowtie ran for it. Bowtie limped, running into me and knocking me off-balance as he passed.

In a second, it was just us.

“Y/N,” he began, walking towards me cautiously.

“No.”

He stopped in his tracks. He was tall, but his shoulders hung in despondent defeat.

“You were right, Harry.”

I could see how tired he was. I could see the broken pieces fitting into something beautiful. He looked so sad and regretful, I already felt guilty for saying,

“You can’t hide anymore.” And with one last look at the broken boy before me, “You are fucked.”

Suddenly, the beer on the floor was just stale and sticky. The couches were filthy from strangers’ mistakes. And the air would never be clear. Harry had been right. This entire house was filled with people who didn’t care and if they did, they were trying to forget; a place more empty than if it were vacant. It was a mess just like the boy living in it. And just like the grand house, impressive at first glance, not all of his parts were beautiful.

I ignored the way his broken pieces seemed to shatter as soon as I said it and the way it hurt me ten-fold. I ignored him calling out my name as I maneuvered through the blur of bodies, until I lost his voice on the dance floor. I could breathe better outside and I walked past the cops without acknowledging them.

From complete chaos to relative quiet, my ears rung, filling the new silence.

Maybe this was the last time we’d speak. Maybe this was how it all should’ve ended that first day in September. Because in that house, that wasn’t the Harry I thought I’d knew. That was a boy far-gone, confused, and I was falling down with him. I was ANGRY. I PITIED him. And I was angry for feeling something else I should never have felt for him.

Somehow, in this fuzzy ringing world buzzing with heated thoughts and cop lights that blurred my vision, I heard a notepad scribble as soon as I passed a squad car.

Lucky for me, Momma always said I had selective hearing.

part 21

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my-random-ocs · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 8: Lunatic

Pairing: Stiles x OC (eventually)

Warnings: Language, teen drinking, mention of dead body

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3rd POV

A few days after the horror movie that was getting trapped in the school by the alpha, Scott and Stiles head down a muddy path, stepping over puddles. Vivian stayed home that night at the request of her brother, and she happily obliged. What happened at the school freaked her out enough that she isn’t sure she wants to leave the house ever again.

Finally, Scott breaks the silence between him and Stiles. “Where are we going?” He asks as they pass a cabin.

“You’ll see,” Stiles responds cryptically.

Scott looks around at the trees uneasily. “‘Cause we really shouldn’t be out here. My mom is in a constant state of freak out from what happened at the school.”

“Well, your mom isn’t the sheriff,” Stiles says, tossing a glance back at Scott, “Okay? There’s no comparison, trust me.”

“Can you at least just tell me what we’re doing out here?” Scott asks, shaking his head and throwing his hands out to his sides.

“Yes,” Stiles sighs. “When your best friend gets dumped-”

“I didn’t get dumped,” Scott quickly corrects. “We’re taking a break.”

“Alright, well, when your best friend gets told by his girlfriend that they’re taking a break-” Stiles stops and turns toward his friend. “You get your best friend drunk.” With that, he reaches into his bag and pulls out a bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey.

A little while later, a bonfire is lit and half the bottle of Jack is gone- mostly due to Stiles, it seems.

He slams the bottle on the ground and collapses on his back next to it. Though it doesn’t shatter, the sound gains the attention of Scott, who moves his gaze down to his friend.

“Dude, you know, she’s just one… one girl,” Stiles slurs. “You know, there are so many- there are so many other girls in the sea.”

“Fish in the sea,” Scott corrects. He smiles, slightly amused at the sight of his drunk friend.

“Fish? Why you talking about fish? I’m talking about girls.” He lets out a dreamy sigh. “I love girls. I love ‘em. I love especially ones with light blonde hair, the most vibrant blue eyes, five foot nine-”

“I don’t think Lydia has blue eyes,” Scott says, deciding to play along, even though he knows Stiles is talking about someone else.

Stiles makes a face. “I know she doesn’t, I was talking about… about- what was I talking about?” He finishes, a drunken smile growing on his face.

He tilts his head back to Scott, and the smile disappears as he sees the glum expression Scott wears. “Hey, you’re not happy. Take a drink.” He taps Scott’s leg, and starts to sit up, reaching for the bottle.

“I don’t want any more,” Scott says, shaking his head.

“You’re not drunk?” Stiles asks, laying back down.

“I’m not anything,” he grumbles, staring at the fire.

“Hey, maybe it’s like… maybe it’s like not needing your inhaler anymore, you know? Maybe you can’t get drunk… as a wolf. Am I drunk?”

Scott looks down at Stiles and shakes his head. “You’re wasted.”

“Yeah!” Stiles cheers, tossing his fist in the air for a fist bump. When Scott doesn’t oblige, he drops his arm. “Oh, come on, dude, I know it feels bad. I know it hurts. I know. Well, I don’t know.” He chuckles before continuing, “But I know this. I know that as much as being broken up hurts, being alone is way worse.” He pauses. “That didn’t make any sense… I need a drink.”

He sits up and reaches for the bottle, but it is snatched away before his fingers can close around it. “Well, look at the two little bitches getting their drink on.” Both boys look up to see a pair of guys standing in front of them.

“Give it back,” Scott demands, glaring at the men and managing to sound somewhat intimidating.

The guy who took the bottle drops the calm grin. “What’s that little man?”

“I think he wants a drink,” the other guy says.

“I want the bottle,” Scott corrects.

“Scott, maybe we should just go,” Stiles suggests, realizing even in his drunken state this is not a situation they should be in, and starts to sit up.

“You brought me here to get me drunk, Stiles. I’m not drunk yet.”

The two guys scoff at each other, thinking that these kids can’t do anything, and the first guy takes a drink from the bottle. Scott stands up and comes face to face with him. “Give me the bottle,” he demands. The guy shakes his head, smirking slightly. “Give me the bottle of Jack.”

As Scott’s eyes start to glow gold, Stiles notices the claws growing from his friend’s hands. “Scott?”

Suddenly alarmed by this turn of events, the guy hands the bottle back to Scott without a word. He whips it against a nearby tree, shattering the glass and spilling alcohol all over the ground, and sending both guys sprinting in the direction they came.

As Scott and Stiles head back toward the car, Stiles says, “Okay, please tell me that was because of the breakup. Or ‘cause tomorrow’s the full moon.” Wordlessly, Scott opens the passenger side door for Stiles. “Going home now, yeah?” Scott nods, and Stiles falls into the seat.

Scott looks around the campsite once before getting into the driver's seat and taking them home.

____________

Vivian’s POV

“Viv, time to get a move on, ” A voice from the other side of my door calls. I open the door to my bedroom and Griffin walks in, already in his deputy’s uniform. When he sees that I’m already awake and dressed, he says, “You’re up early.”

I nod, checking my bag to make sure it’s packed with everything I need. “Yeah, I couldn’t really sleep. Figured I might as well get up and start getting ready.” I zip my backpack shut and toss my leather jacket over my gray knit sweater, and a red and black plaid skirt. I pull on my combat boots over my plain black tights.

“You know, you could stay home for another day if you want,” Griffin says.

I shake my head. “I don’t want to fall behind.”

He snorts, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “That is literally impossible, but okay- if you’re sure.”

I sling my bag over one shoulder. “I’m sure. I have to go- Lydia’s giving me a ride and she’s downstairs waiting for me, so-” I start to head out of my room, then turn back to Griffin and say, “Oh, I’m heading over to Scott’s later tonight to study with him and Stiles.” We’re going to be doing a little more than studying- what with chaining Scott to the wall so he doesn’t go all Hulk on us again- but I leave that part out.

“You’re hanging out with Scott and Stiles a lot lately,” Griffin notices.

I nod, trying not to give anything away. “Yeah, well, I’m also friends with Lydia and Allison.”

“I know. I just want to make sure you’re socializing enough.”

I smile, sending him a look that says ‘come on’. “Griffin, I was already friends with Stiles before we moved here, I made a friend in Scott, like, the day we got here, and I met Lydia and Allison the first day of school. It’s only been a month. Considering I can barely talk to people without freezing up, four friends in one month seems pretty good for me.”

My brother nods. “Of course it is. I just want to make sure you’re- you know- okay.”

My expression softens. “I’m fine, Griff. Promise.”

“Good.” He smirks. “Now get to school.”

I chuckle, sending him a mock salute. “Aye, aye, captain.” With that, I hurry quickly out the door and toward the front of the building, where Lydia is waiting to drive us to school.

____________

After the bell sounds, I walk down the hall with Lydia and Allison. “It’s just weird,” Allison is saying. “Everybody’s talking about what happened the other night, and nobody knows it was us.”

“Thank you for the protection of minors,” Lydia says.

“Amen to that, sister,” I agree.

We continue down the hallway in silence for another minute until Allison speaks again. “Do you guys think I made the wrong decision?”

“About that jacket with that dress?” Lydia asks. “Absolutely.”

I share a look with Allison. “You know what I mean," Allison says.

“Hello? Scott locked us in a classroom and left us for dead,” Lydia reminds us. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “He’s lucky we’re not pressing charges. Or making him pay our therapy bills.”

I exchange a look with Allison, saying that we do not agree, and I interject. “I know what he did wasn’t a good decision, but don’t you think that maybe he did that to protect us?”

Before either of them can answer, we round a corner and see Stiles sitting on the ground outside of the principal’s office, ear pressed to the window. “Um, I’ll see you guys in class, okay?” I say. They nod, and continue down the hall while I stop in front of Stiles.

“Comfortable?” I smirk.

“Oh, yeah, totally,” Stiles answers, and I snort.

I’m about to ask what he’s doing on the floor when the office door opens and Noah, Griffin, and a guy in a suit walk out with the principal. “We are watching his family’s house,” Noah is saying. “Maybe he’ll wind up there.” Griffin takes notice of us and nods, causing Noah to look over at us. Stiles stands up as Noah turns back to the guy in the suit. “Give me a second.”

He steps over to us, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Don’t you two have a test to get to?”

Ignoring the question, Stiles asks his own, “What’s going on? Did you find Derek yet?”

“I’m working on it,” Noah says. “You two go take your test.”

“Alright, Dad, listen to me-”

“Go!”

Ignoring him again, Stiles continues. “This is really important. You have to be careful tonight. Okay? Especially tonight.”

Noah nods reassuringly. “Stiles, I’m always careful.”

“Dad, you’ve never dealt with this kind of thing before, okay? At least not like this-”

Noah nods and glances back at the group he was with before. Stiles and I follow his gaze as he says, “I know, which is why I brought in people who have. State detective. Go take your test.”

Stiles and I exchange a look, and sigh, both of us gripping our backpacks tighter and making our way down the hallway to take our chemistry test.

____________

We make it inside the room just as Mr. Harris starts passing out the tests. Allison and I are sitting next to each other in the front row, quizzing each other for some last minute review, when Scott walks right up to her.

“Allison-” He starts, but Harris immediately interjects.

“Mr. McCall,” he says, leaning on Allison’s desk as an attempt to gain Scott’s attention. “Please take a seat.”

Scott looks like that is the last thing he wants to do, but he listens and heads to the back of the classroom to sit in front of Stiles.

Now finished passing out the tests, Harris turns to address the whole class. “You have forty-five minutes to complete the test. Twenty-five percent of your grade can be earned right now simply by writing your name on the cover of the blue book. However, as happens every year, one of you will inexplicably fail to put your name on the cover, and I’ll be left yet again questioning my decision to ever become a teacher.” Then why did you, my dude? It seems like you hate it. “So, let’s get the disappointment over with. Begin.” He starts his stopwatch, causing it to beep softly once, and I flip open the booklet- after writing my name on the cover, of course.

It’s easy going, and I am almost done after just twenty minutes. I am reading over the last question when Scott suddenly shoots up in his seat, startling everyone, and rushes out of the room. “Mr. McCall?” Harris calls, but Scott ignores him.

I look back at Stiles, who also stands and runs after Scott. “Mr. Stilinski!”

I quickly circle the answer to the last question and stand, shouldering my bag. I place my finished test on Harris’s desk. “Sorry,” I whisper, quickly following the boys out the door.

“Miss Byrne!” Harris calls, but I’m already gone.

I join Stiles out in the hallway. “Scott,” he calls, looking both ways down the hall, but neither of us see our friend.

I tap his shoulder, gaining his attention, and he follows my gaze to Scott’s abandoned backpack in the middle of the hallway. He kneels down in front of it. “Scott?” He tries again, but no luck. He stands up, grabbing the bag, and takes his phone out to dial Scott’s number. After a second, we hear a faint ringing coming from down the hall.

We exchange a nervous look, and hesitantly make our way down the hall, following the ringtone right to the boys locker room, where we hear the shower running. I place a hand on Stiles’s shoulder and close my eyes, deciding I do not need to see Scott without any clothes.

We walk further into the locker room, Stiles guiding me. I hear Stiles sigh in relief and I figure it’s okay to open my eyes. Other than being shirtless and under a stream of water, Scott is fully clothed. Scott shuts off the water, panting, and turns toward us. “Stiles,” he manages. “I can’t…”

“What’s happening?” Stiles asks quickly. “Are you changing?”

“No. No, I can’t breathe.”

I snap my fingers, knowing what to do. I reach for Scott’s backpack on Stiles’s shoulder and rifle through the pockets. “Aha!” I exclaim triumphantly as I unearth Scott’s inhaler and hand it to him. “Here, use this. Come on, do it.”

Confused, Scott takes it and breathes into it. He takes a second, then asks in disbelief, “I was having an asthma attack?”

I shake my head. “Nope, you were having a panic attack,” I correct. “But thinking that you were having an asthma attack actually tricked your brain into stopping the panic attack.”

“Irony,” Stiles sings, and I hold back a snort, putting Scott’s bag on a bench, all of us significantly calmer now.

“How did you know how to do that?” Scott asks.

I shrug. “I have anxiety, so I get panic attacks sometimes. Fun, right?” Stiles places a hand on my shoulder, and I reach up to give it a thankful squeeze. My panic attacks started when I was a kid, and after a while, my parents decided to have me tested, and I was diagnosed with anxiety in middle school.

Scott shakes his head, throwing his hands out to his sides. “I looked at her, and it was like someone hit me in the ribs with a hammer.”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, it’s called heartbreak. About two billion songs written about it.”

“I can’t stop thinking about her,” Scott sighs, rubbing the back of his head.

“Well, you could think about this: her dad’s a werewolf hunter, and you’re a werewolf, so it was bound to become an issue.”

I hit his shoulder. “Dude.”

“That wasn’t helpful,” he realizes.

I sigh. “Look, Scott, you got dumped. It’s supposed to suck. But it gets better. You know, my dad grew up in Texas, and when he was in high school, he had this girlfriend, and he was totally in love with her. Like, ready to spend the rest of his life with her, in love with her. And then senior year came around, and she decided it was too hard. She didn’t think they would survive after graduation, so she broke up with him. And Dad was so heartbroken that he picked a school as far away as he could get: Roger Williams University, in Rhode Island, halfway across the country. And that is where he met my mom. It hurts now, but you’re going to be okay.”

“No,” Scott denies. “That’s not it. It was like I could feel everything in the room, everyone else’s emotions.”

“It’s got to be the full moon,” Stiles concludes. “So we’ll lock you up in your room later just like we planned. That way the alpha, who is your boss, can’t get to you either.”

“I think we need to do a lot more than lock me in my room.”

“What, you mean because if you get out, you’d be caught by hunters?” Stiles questions.

Scott shakes his head, stepping closer to us. “No. Because if I get out… I think I might kill someone.”

____________

3rd POV

After school, the lacrosse team is gathered in the locker room, waiting for Coach Finstock to make his announcement before they go out to the field to practice.

“Alright, geniuses, listen up,” Coach says as he walks in. “Due to the recent pink eye epidemic- thank you Greenberg- the following people have made first line on a probationary basis, emphasis on the word probationary.” He looks down at his clipboard and reads out the names. “Rodriguez. Welcome to first line. Taylor, and, uh… oh, for the love of crap. I can’t even read my own writing. What is that, an ‘S’? No, no, that’s not an ‘S’.” He squints down at the list and finally says, “That’s a- that’s a- that’s a ‘B’. That’s a ‘B’. It’s definitely a ‘B’. Uh, Rodriguez, Taylor, and, uh, Bilinski.”

Stiles’s head whips around at Coach, realizing that even though ‘Bilinski’ is not his last name, Coach does mean him. “Yeah-heh-heh!” He shouts, shooting up from his seat, grinning wide, and flailing his arms. “Whaa! Whoo-hoo-hoo! Yeah!”

“Bilinski!” Coach shouts.

“Yes,” Stiles says, trying to calm down.

“Shut up!”

“Yes, sir.” He sits back on the bench next to Scott.

“Stiles,” Scott whispers.

“It’s Biles,” Stiles corrects immediately. “Call me Biles or I swear to God I’ll kill you.”

“And another thing,” Coach continues, “from here on out, immediately, we’re switching to co-captains. Congratulations, McCall.”

Everyone turns to face Scott, who could not look more indifferent to the news, even if Stiles is smiling.

“What?” Jackson questions, taking a step forward.

“What do you mean, ‘what’?” Coach asks. “Jackson, this takes nothing away from you. This is about combining separate strengths into one unit. This is about taking your unit, McCall’s unit, we’re making one big unit. McCall, it’s you and Jackson now.” He glances down at his clipboard. “One last thing. Because we are missing so many people due to Greenberg’s pink eye, we are still down one person. If anyone has any suggestions, let me know.” Stiles perks up, knowing just who he’ll recommend to Coach. “Alright, everybody-” he blows into his whistle, emitting a high pitched tweet- “asses on the field!”

“Dude, can you believe this?” Stiles asks Scott as they join the rest of the team making their way down the hall toward the field. “You’re a captain. I’m first line. I’m first freaking line!” Noticing the blank look on Scott’s face, he continues. “Are you not freaking out? I’m freaking out.”

“What’s the point?” Scott grumbles. “It’s just a stupid title. And I could practically smell the jealousy in there.”

Stiles places a hand on Scott’s chest, stopping both their steps. “Wait, you smelled jealousy?”

“Yeah, it’s like the full moon’s turned everything up to ten.”

“Huh.” Stiles thinks for a moment, then says, “Can you pick up on stuff like, I don’t know, desire?”

“What do you mean ‘desire’?” Scott asks.

“Like, sexual desire?” He elaborates.

“Sexual desire?” Scott repeats.

“Yeah, sexual desire. Lust, passion, arousal.”

Scott looks down the hallway, noticing Lydia talking to Vivian. “From Lydia?” He guesses, even though he knows exactly who Stiles really means.

“What?” Stiles jerks back slightly. “No, in a general, broad sense, can you determine sexual desire?”

A smirk grows on Scott’s face. “From Lydia to you? Are you sure you don’t want me checking someone el-”

“Fine, yes, from Lydia to me,” Stiles says, interrupting Scott. “Look, I need to know if I have a chance with this girl, okay? I’ve been obsessing over her since the third freakin’ grade.”

“Why don’t you just ask her?” Scott wonders.

Stiles answers simply, “Well, to save myself utterly crushing humiliation. Thank you, Scott. Okay? So, please, can you just go up and ask her if she likes me? See if her heartbeat rises, pheromones come out.” He gestures around his head, portraying what he apparently thinks pheromones do when they exit the head.

“Fine,” Scott sighs and starts walking toward Lydia and Vivian, if for no other reason than to get his friend to stop talking. He smirks. “If you really think Lydia is the one I should be checking with.” He feels bad for his friend, but he has to admit it’s fun to give him shit.

“Wh- I love you,” Stiles says to Scott’s retreating back. “I love you. You’re my best friend in the whole world.”

“Hey, Lydia,” Scott says as he reaches her and Vivian. “Can we talk for a second?”

The redhead exchanges a confused look with the blonde, who shrugs. “Of course,” Lydia says, and the two make their way to Coach’s office.

Vivian glances at Stiles. “What was that about?”

“Scott’s just checking something for me- it’s no big deal.” Stiles places a hand on Vivian’s shoulder, leading her down the hall. “Come on, let’s get to the field.”

____________

After Vivian makes her way up the bleachers, Stiles heads over to Coach. “Hey, Coach, can I talk to you for a second?”

“What is it, Bilinski?” Coach asks, looking around at the players on the field instead of Stiles.

“Well, earlier in the locker room, you said you still needed another player for first line, and are looking for suggestions.”

“You have a suggestion?”

Stiles scratches his head. “Yeah, uh, you know my friend Vivian?” Stiles looks up the bleachers, and Coach follows his gaze to Vivian hunched over a large book.

Coach scoffs. “You want her to join the lacrosse team?”

“Look, Coach, she’s a great player.” He tilts his head. “She may not be the most aggressive athlete, but she knows the game- she knows how to teach it and she knows how to play. She’s small, she’s fast, and she’s tough. She’d be a great addition to the team.”

Coach flicks his eyes between Stiles and Vivian. Finally, he sighs. “Hey, Byrne!” He calls up the bleachers, startling Vivian. He waves her down. “Get changed into something other than a skirt and boots, then grab some gear. This is your tryout day.”

Eyes wide, Vivian looks to Stiles, then quickly gathers her stuff and clambers down the bleachers back toward the locker room.

____________

Vivian’s POV

I am going to kill Stiles Stilinski. As soon as possible. Most likely with a heavy book.

I glare at him as I gear up. “I can’t believe you signed me up for this.”

“Viv, you’re going to do great,” Stiles attempts to reassure me.

“I’m more of a writer than an athlete- you know that.”

“But you know the game- probably better than any guy on this field. And you won almost every game when we were little.” I tilt my head, knowing he’s right. “Your mom taught you everything about the game,” he reminds me. He places a hand on my shoulder. “I know you’re nervous, but just remember, this is just a tryout for you. You’re gonna crush it.” He raises his eyebrows. “And, hey, I saw the bear you have in your backpack earlier, so, you know, Mr. Bear is there for you, too.”

My eyes widen. “You saw that?”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, during lunch. I don’t think I recognized him.”

I sigh, lowering my head. “It’s the bear the hospital gave me after the accident. I sleep with it every night, and I thought bringing it to school today would make me feel better- be an extra comfort after what happened the other night.” I move my gaze up to Stiles’s. “And his name is not Mr. Bear, it’s Yogi. As in Yogi Bear.”

Stiles stifles a grin. “Well, remember, Yogi Bear fully supports you, and I do, too.”

A small smile grows on my face, and I grip my stick a little tighter, and a little more confidently. “Thanks, Stiles.”

Right then, Scott walks up and sits down on Stiles’s other side. “Hey,” Stiles says. “What happened?”

“What?” Scott asks, seeming a little out of it.

Stiles flails his arms a little, a little impatient. “What do you mean, ‘what’? Did you ask her? Did she say anything? Did she say she liked me? Did she imply she liked me?”

“Yeah,” Scott interrupts, sounding bored. “Yeah, she likes you. In fact, she’s totally into you.”

I narrow my eyes, suspecting Scott is lying, but I don’t say anything. Instead, I force a smile on my face when Stiles turns to me, thrilled.

Scott turns to me, as if noticing me for the first time. “What are you doing geared up?” He demands.

“Stiles here recommended me to Coach,” I say, bumping Stiles’s shoulder with my own. “I’m here to try out for the team.”

Scott stares at me, amused. “You’re going to play lacrosse?”

I open my mouth to retort back, but Stiles speaks up. “Come on, Scott, she’s good,” he insists. “We could use some good players.”

“Whatever,” Scott scoffs, and turns back to face the field. I exchange a look with Stiles. Was this just the full moon messing with Scott’s head, or the break up, or something else?

A few minutes later, Scott, Stiles, and I are standing in line a little ways in front of the goal. Players in front of me have been trying to get past the defensive line to shoot the ball into the goal.

“Scott, you okay, dude?” Stiles asks as Scott steps up to play. “Look, I know we just got good news and all, but there’s still seven hours ‘til the full moon, okay?”

Ignoring him, Scott runs toward the goal when Coach blows the whistle. Two players block him probably harder than needed, and Scott falls to the ground with a thud. I wince sympathetically.

Coach laughs, leaning over Scott, who has made no moves to get up. “Guess some people don’t appreciate your new status there, McCall. Who’s next?” He blows his whistle. “Let’s go.” Stiles steps up to the line and grabs a ball with his stick. However, Scott does a little flip thing to get up and grabs his own stick.

“You have a problem with that Bilinski?” Coach asks Stiles.

“What?” Stiles asks. “Yeah, no.”

“Alright, you’re up big boy. Let’s go.”

However, before Stiles can move forward, Scott forces Stiles back with his stick. “That’s it, McCall!” Coach cheers. “That’s the spirit! You earn it! Earn it, McCall!”

Coach blows the whistle and Scott shoots down the field, slamming into the defensive line. I wince as the players land on the ground. He makes it to the goal and knocks into Danny with unnecessary force, before throwing the ball into the goal.

“Danny! Oh, man, Danny!” People all around are rushing toward Danny, who isn’t moving from the ground. We get to Danny, and I see his nose is bleeding. I wince. What the hell was Scott thinking?

Stiles and I walk over to Scott a few feet away, taking off our helmets. “Dude, what the hell are you doing?” Stiles demands.

“He’s twice the size of me,” Scott says, like that makes it better.

“Yeah, but everybody likes Danny,” I say. “Now everybody’s gonna hate you.”

“I don’t care,” Scott scoffs. “And, Viv, this is the game. If you couldn’t handle it, why’d you come to try out?”

I open my mouth to respond, but then Lydia runs onto the field next to Jackson. “Is he okay?” She asks.

“It looks like he just has a bloody nose-” Jackson stops as he turns to face her.

“What?” Lydia asks.

“Your lipstick.”

Lydia takes out a compact mirror and examines herself. “Oh.” She reaches up to try and fix her smudged makeup, but she’s acting like she’s trying to cover for something. “Huh- wonder how that happened.”

Jackson nods, looking like he cannot believe her any less. “Yeah. I wonder.”

Stiles’s mouth drops open as he turns away from them and looks at Scott. Suddenly, it clicks. Oh, let me be wrong. I would love to be wrong just this once.

____________

“So, tell me how we’re going to break into Scott’s house this time?” I ask as I shut the door to Stiles’s Jeep, both of us walking up the path to Scott’s front door.

“No breaking in necessary,” Stiles smirks, holding up a house key.

I let out a small laugh. “Wait, did you copy Scott’s house key? You know that’s illegal?”

“It’s only illegal if you get caught.” He fits the key in the lock and opens the front door.

“Scott?” Ms. McCall calls as we walk inside, and I shut the door behind me.

“Stiles and Vivian,” Stiles says nervously as she walks into the foyer. I lift my hand in a small half wave.

“Key,” Ms. McCall says, pointing to the key in Stiles’s hand.

“Yeah. I had one made, so…”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Scares me, but- doesn’t surprise me.”

With that, Stiles drops the duffel bag on the ground. I wince as it lands with a clank.

“What is that?” Ms. McCall asks, staring at the bag.

“Oh,” I say, trying to think of a good cover. “It’s our, um- school project. Speaking of which, is, um- is Scott here yet?”

“Oh, not yet. Should be any minute, though.” She pauses, before asking, “Guys, he’s okay, right?”

“Who? Scott?” Stiles asks, nervously shoving his hands in his pockets. “Yeah- totally.” He shrugs, and if I were Ms. McCall, I would not believe him.

“He just doesn’t talk to me that much anymore,” she says sadly. “Not like he used to.”

“Well, he’s had a bit of a rough week,” Stiles attempts to comfort her.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Yeah, um… okay, uh… be careful tonight,” she says, reaching for her keys.

“You, too,” I say, glad this conversation is coming to a close.

Ms. McCall finds her keys and turns to face us again, stating, “Full moon.”

Stiles and I do a double take. “What?” We say in unison.

“There’s a full moon tonight,” she elaborates, laughing. “You should see how the E.R. gets. Brings out all the nutjobs.”

“Oh,” Stiles chuckles, and I try not to let the relief that she doesn’t actually know anything show on my face.

“Yeah,” she smiles, looking between the two of us.

“Right,” I say as she steps toward the door.

“You know, it’s um, actually where they came up with the word ‘lunatic’.”

With that, she steps out the door, leaving Stiles and I speechless. As soon as the door shuts, we breathe sighs of relief. “Oh, my God, I think I had a mini heart attack,” I say.

“You’re telling me,” he replies. “Okay, so Scott isn’t here, but we should probably start setting up for when he does get here.”

“Sounds good.”

He grabs the duffel bag from the floor, and we head up the stairs to Scott’s room. When Stiles flips the light on, we jerk back in unison, exclaiming, “Oh, my God!” Sitting in the corner in an armchair, in the dark like a weirdo, is Scott.

“Dude,” Stiles says, calming down a little. “You scared the hell out of me. Your mom said you weren’t home yet.” We step further into the room, and Stiles places the duffel in front of the radiator.

“I came in through the window,” Scott says simply. What the fuck?

“Okay,” Stiles says, trying not to ask about the window thing. “Uh, well, let’s get this set up. I want you to see what I bought.”

We kneel down to open the bag, but Scott says, “I’m fine. I’m just gonna lock the door and go to bed early tonight.”

Stiles lifts his head toward Scott and asks, “You sure about that? ‘Cause you’ve got this kind of serial killer look going on in your eyes, and I’m hoping it’s the full moon taking effect, ‘cause it’s really starting to freak me out.”

“Yeah, me, too,” I say, tensing up instinctively.

“I’m fine,” Scott insists. “You should go now.”

“Alright, we’ll leave,” Stiles says. He moves back on his heels to stand, then stops. “Well, look, would you just at least look in the bag and see what I bought? You know, maybe you use it, maybe you don’t. Sound good?”

Scott stands up from the chair and steps over to kneel beside the bag. He reaches in and lifts out some chains. “You think I’m gonna let you two put these on and chain me up like a dog?” He asks, moving his glare between the chains and us.

“Actually, no,” Stiles states before suddenly shooting forward and wrapping a pair of handcuffs on Scott’s wrist, securing the other end to the radiator.

As soon as Scott can’t get free, Stiles quickly moves back, grabbing my shoulder and having me stand up and pushing me behind him.

“What the hell are you doing?” Scott yells, frantically pulling on the handcuffs. I take hold of Stiles’s elbow and move us back slightly.

“Protecting you from yourself,” Stiles says, “and giving you some payback… for making out with Lydia.” Scott deepens his glare toward us.

With that, Stiles places a hand on my upper arm and leads me out of the room.

“Stiles-” I start, though I really have no idea what to say.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back,” he says, and walks downstairs before I can respond.

After a moment, he comes back with a half full water bottle and a dog bowl with Scott’s name scrawled on one side in thick black Sharpie.

“I brought you some water,” he tells Scott as he walks into the bedroom, me hovering in the doorway to watch the scene. He waves the bottle in the air before pouring the water in the dog bowl. I cover my mouth, trying to hold back my laugh. He tosses the empty bottle aside, placing the bowl next to Scott.

Stiles makes it to the doorway before Scott throws the bowl at his back, shouting, “I’m gonna kill you!”

The bowl clatters to the ground, and Stiles snaps back, “You kissed her, Scott, okay? You kissed Lydia. That’s, like, the one girl- and, you know, the past three hours, I’ve been thinking, it’s probably just the full moon, you know, he doesn’t even know what he’s doing, and tomorrow, he’ll be totally back to normal. He probably won’t even remember what a complete dumbass he’s been. A son of a bitch, a fucking unbelievable piece of shit friend.”

“She kissed me,” Scott says, raising his head toward Stiles. My glare toward Scott deepens with his words.

Stiles jerks his head back slightly. “What?”

“I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me.” Stiles walks out into the hallway, and I stay glaring at Scott in the door. “She would have done a lot more, too. You should have seen the way she had her hands all over me. She would have done anything I wanted. Anything!” He chuckles humorlessly. “What does it matter, anyway, Stiles? We both know Lydia isn’t the one you want-”

Not knowing what that means, but taking one look at Stiles’s face, I decide I don’t care and bellow back, “Enough! Are you seriously throwing this in Stiles’s face? I know I haven’t been here very long, but is this how people in Beacon Hills treat their friends? Do you even hear your-”

“Let it out, Vivian!” Scott interrupts. “Let it all out. Is this the only way you’re confident- sticking up for Stiles? It must be, since you barely talk to anyone else. I mean, I see how you are. You can’t handle lacrosse, you can’t go bowling with friends without having a breakdown- you can’t even come to school without needing a teddy bear to get you through the day!”

I inhale sharply, and blink, trying to get rid of the tingly feeling in my nose. I back out of the room, slamming the door shut. I slide down the wall next to Stiles, who rests a comforting hand on my knee. I breathe deeply, and rest my head on Stiles's shoulder.

After a few moments of silence, we hear clanking and Scott moaning out, “Guys, please let me out. It’s the full moon, I swear. You know I wouldn’t do any of this on purpose.” I exchange a look with Stiles, both of us wrestling with the decision, but we know we can’t let him out.

“Please, guys, let me out,” Scott begs. “It’s starting to hurt. It’s not like the first time. It’s the full moon. It’s Allison- breaking up with me. I know… that it’s not just taking a break. She broke up with me. And it’s killing me. I feel completely hopeless. Just please- let me out.”

Stiles glances over at me, and I squeeze his hand as he forces out, “We can’t.”

Scott starts screaming in pain, and even though it’s killing me to hear one of my friends like that, I stay put. Stiles tightens his grip on my hand, then lets go to cover his ears as Scott gets louder. I do the same.

After a few moments, Scott abruptly stops. Stiles and I look at each other in confusion, and look towards Scott’s doorway. “Scott, are you okay?” Stiles asks. Not hearing a response, we both stand. “Scott?” Stiles opens the door, keeping a protective arm in front of me.

I gasp, my eyes widening, as I look on the ground and see a pair of broken handcuffs next to a few bloodstains, an open window, and no Scott.

“Oh, shit,” I whisper.

Stiles taps my shoulder, quickly backing out of the room. “Come on, we gotta go.” Tossing one more look at the handcuffs, I nod and run after Stiles.

____________

After only a few minutes of driving, we come across a police car and an ambulance. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no,” Stiles mutters quickly, putting the car in park.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as he gets out of the car, and I follow suit. “Stiles, what is it?”

“This is where I took Scott last night,” he answers. He doesn’t elaborate on his thought process before running up to the scene. “Dad? Dad? Has anyone seen my- has anyone seen my dad?”

At the same time, our eyes land on the gurney, the body on it covered, and a horrible thought crosses my mind. I quickly walk up next to Stiles as he reaches for the sheet when we hear a voice.

“Stiles, Vivian.”

Oh, thank God. We both turn and a wave of relief crashes over me as Noah walks over.

“What are you two doing here?” He asks. We don’t answer, and instead, Stiles takes a few steps closer to him and wraps him in a tight hug. Noah pats Stiles on the back.

Once they let go of each other, Noah repeats his question, and I manage to make up some excuse about how we were on our way to get ice cream, then we clamber back into the Jeep so that we’re not lying to Noah again.

#blackbird fly #vivian byrne #teen wolf #teen wolf oc

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