retrovailles | derek hale

000 | till death do us part

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PROLOGUE

"an event or action that leads to another event or situation."

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"I HAVE A BAD FEELING ABOUT THIS."

Two best friends sit in a blue beetle as they stare at Beacon Hills High. The roof of the car is pushed down, which ended up being a mistake with the 50 degrees and below weather at this type of night. February nights like these always feel chillier than January and December. Like winter's trying to seep the life out of your body before it's forced away by spring. But at eleven at night in front of the school, winter seems to be the only thing in sight.

Paige sends her best friend a look as she untucks her brown hair from behind her ear. The cold must've gotten to her. "You say that about everything."

France (unfortunately short for Francine) Flores and Paige Krasikeva, age 16. Best friends since the second grade and so close they could either be mistaken for sisters or girlfriends and nothing in between. They were attached by the hip and were pretty much inseparable until Paige had fallen in love with Beacon High's star basketball player, Derek Hale, and suddenly their duo became a trio. But France barely tolerates Derek, and it seems like the feeling's mutual when they find each other competing for Paige's attention.

In fact, Derek's the reason why France finds herself freezing in the driver's seat, trying to convince Paige not to go into the creepy building just because of some note she found from her boyfriend, asking her to meet him here and at this time. Literally, what romantic bullshit could take place in the dead of night at their high school?

"Yeah, but this time I mean it!" France insists. Her hands grip the steering wheel tightly, uncomfortable with the thought of leaving her best friend alone in an empty school at night. "What if there happens to be some ax murderer waiting for you?"

(If only France had known the truth to her paranoia. She refuses to make that mistake again.)

"Right," Paige scoffs, her exhale visible in the cold air. She's not going to take France's comment seriously, that much she knows. Noticing the growing frown on her friend's face, she nudges her friend's shoulder. Paige assuredly says, "We've been over this. I'll be fine."

"Why did he ask you to come here anyway?" her best friend complains. "Why not his house, or that weird warehouse near it that you guys always go to. School seems a little . . . risque, no?"

Noticing the suggestive tone, Paige blushes and shoves her best friend. "Shut up! We haven't even really talked about that yet!"

"Whatever," France shrugs, wiggling her eyebrows. "Maybe tonight's the night. Maybe the idiot's finally ready to bed you."

"Please, stop talking."

"Did you at least bring a condom with you? You can never rely on the boys for th—"

"France! Oh god, I'm getting out of the car." Paige says in a shrill voice. Even in the dark, the red tinge on her cheeks and ears peak through. She unlocks her passenger door at quickly steps out as France cackles from the driver's seat. She shuts the door behind her, then leans over the frame, hanging her hands in the car. France can see the handwritten note in Paige's hand from this angle—the one Derek had given her this very same day. "I'll text you once Derek drops me off back home, okay?"

"What? You don't want me to wait for you?" 

"Absolutely not," Paige says, shaking her head. "Derek has a car, remember? He can just drive me home."

"But—" France protests.

"No buts. His car is literally parked over there." 

France follows Paige's line of sight. The car is parked far, but still semi-visible through the fog. She still gives her a skeptical glare. After earning a sharp look from her best friend, France relents, grumbling, "Fine." She opens her own car door and starts towards the trunk. "At least help me pull my roof up before you leave. It's the least you could do after using me as your personal chauffeur."

"You're the one who offered to drive me," Paige points out as she grips the rooftop with France, unlatching the material and pulling it overhead.

"Well, I apologize for not wanting my best friend to get kidnapped for cycling alone in the middle of the night. You would be a prime target, you know!"

"Thank you for not letting me get kidnapped," she laughs as France slides back into her seat, now covered by the ceiling of the car. Most of the windows rolled back up, and the heater finally starts working in time for the warmth to seep back into her toes. 

"You're very welcome," France says, pleased. "You better text me the moment you get home!"

"Yes, mother," Paige rolls her eyes, though it holds no malice. As she backs away from the car, she waves at the brunette. "I'll see you tomorrow. Love you!"

"Love you." She waves back. (This is the last time they say I love you to each other. France makes note that they hadn't even said "I." She cannot recall the last time they used "I.")

Before Paige opens the front doors (which were unlocked for some reason that France should've noticed, now reliving this moment every waking minute), she turns to her best friend and blows an exaggerated kiss, to which she's replied to with an eye roll (France now wishes she had blown a kiss back).

France watches as the girl makes her way through the front doors. It's too dark to see her through the glass, and the weird feeling in France's chest grows as she stares at the now still picture in front of her. No Paige in sight. She shrugs it off and starts the car engine once more, lifting the window upon the passenger seat. It's only until she's on the road that France realized it wasn't Derek's car out front in the parking lot. She shakes it off, thinking she was probably just tired. France did forget her glasses after all. Oh, shoot, she's not permitted to drive without her glasses—and at night when it's foggy too? The girl makes a note to tell Paige that she had almost killed them while driving tonight when she sees her the next day. France grins at the thought of seeing Paige's face tomorrow as she drives away.

(There are no more tomorrows. No more "the next days." There is no more Paige after tonight, and soon there will be no more France, either).

author's note!

welcome, welcome. may the fun commence ;)