Oblivion (A Stiles Stilinski/Teen Wolf Fanfiction) [3]

Chapter 4 - Risk and Reward

 "I don't see anything," said Derek.

 He, Scott, Stiles, Allison, Lydia, and I were all in an empty classroom before the start of school. Apparently what Allison and Lydia needed us so desperately for last night was to show us these bruises that some woman left on their arms. They claim it makes some kind of pattern.

 "Look again," said Scott.

 "How is a bruise gonna tell us anything about where Boyd and Erica are?" Derek asked. 

 I stood behind Stiles with my arms folded over my chest. I was the last person who wanted to bring Derek into this, but Scott seemed to think it was necessary. Although, by the look on Allison's face, she wasn't fond of him being here either.

 "They're the same on both sides," pointed out Scott. "Exactly the same,"

 "It's nothing," said Derek. 

 I gave my signature eye roll. Even though I'm upset with Lydia and Allison for interrupted Stiles and I last night, I see what they're talking about. Derek, however, won't even bother to consider the possibility. If he could just step away from his ego for five seconds...

 "Pareidolia," said Lydia. "Seeing patterns that aren't there,"

 Scott and Derek looked at each other in confusion, but I knew what she was talking about. It's like making pictures out of clouds in the sky. In reality, it's just a collection of fog. But our minds are deceptive into finding shapes that make sense to us.

 "Will you just try and help?" I asked Derek, annoyed.

 Derek looked to me, then back to Allison and Lydia. "These two? This one, who used me to resurrect my psychotic uncle - thank you - and this one, who shot about thirty arrows into me and my pack."

 I groaned, shaking my head at him. Stiles decided to speak for me, "Alright, no one died. Look, there may have been a little maiming, a little mangling, but no death."

 I cleared my throat unnecessarily loud, raising an eyebrow at my boyfriend. His jaw dropped slightly and he recalled the incident on the night of the formal. The night Derek killed Peter, which thus resulted in my own death. It's so weird to think about it like that.

 "I died," I said, looking directly at Derek.

 His eyes shifted to the ground. Good. I'm glad he feels guilty. He should. He put me through hell and back just so he could gain a little power to feel better about himself. I see right through all of that. I've known him far to long to have him trick me into thinking he's not as scared as he really is.

 "They said that girl was looking for Scott," I said, referring to Lydia and Allison. "I'm here to help him. Not you,"

 "You wanna help? Find something real," he said to me, pointing at the bruises on the girls' arms. 

 He began walking out, but Scott followed him and stopped him. "Look, give them a chance. They're on our side now,"

 Derek looked over at me before turning his attention back to Scott. "They're on your side, Scott, not mine."

 With that, he walked out of the room. I flexed my jaw in anger, pressing my lips into a thin line. I let out a frustrated groan, pacing between the tables. I used to be on Derek's side. He was like a brother to me. But he threw all of that away, and it was his choice. He shouldn't be blaming me for my attitude towards him.

 You'd think that over the past four months Derek and I could have at least tried to mend our broken relationship. Yet, I probably said no more than two words to him the entire time. He wasn't making an effort, and I sure as hell wasn't going to be the one to apologize. I wasn't the one who caused this mess.