City Lights \ Derek Hale

Chapter 26- It's Perfect

Emptiness is a funny thing. 

The house is empty all of a sudden. No Kurt to welcome me home, no dad that is busy moaning and bitching about his laptop and how he can't write,  no Bobby to joke and watch TV with, no mom that would cook food or a note saying she's in the hospital.

It's been way too long since she's left a note of that sort. 

Drinking Fanta of a can, I stared at the TV. I should really turn it on.

A sudden noise startled me, making me spill my drink over my white shirt. 

"Damn it!"

I stared at my shirt, grumpy. I finished my drink and set it down on the small table in front of me, sighing and getting up to find another shirt. I trailed into my room, humming At Least It Was Here by The 88. 

"And I can't count the reasons I should stay," Dylan sang for me, "one by one they all just fade away." 

"So what?" I asked, burying myself in the closet, looking for a shirt. "Just take a car and leave?"

"Well, it doesn't really matter," Dylan admitted. "Right now, the next time you enter any sort of a car- including bus- it's bye bye bye."

"Way to make it sound cheerful," I muttered, recalling my conversation with Peter.

"What does it mean?" I asked, eyes wide. 

"That A. You're not cray- cray, and B. your boyfriend's ghost is here for a reason. I'm guessing you know it."

"Well..." I stayed silent. "He says he can't go on because he is angry," I lied,  looking at Peter, waiting for him to confront me about it being a lie. He seems to be listening carefully before relaxing. 

"Alright." he paused, making me blink away tears. Shit. "Now to the second mystery; why is there no number?"

"Maybe because I am the only one that sees him, and... Uh, something?" I tried explaining without actually knowing what I am explaining.

"Go home. We'll figure it out."

"Yeah," I said, not trusting his promise.

I fished out a shirt I haven't seen in forever. A Hakuna Matata gray shirt.

"Am I doomed to die in a car accident with that shirt? For real?"

"Well," Dylan grinned.

"I should have listened to mom when she said I need to wear nicer stuff to dates." He smiled. A perfect smile that would make me fall just a little harder for him.

"So where's that note?"

"I'm guessing that the usual," I replied, taking off my shirt and replacing it with the old- new one. He grabbed my hand and I pulled it away, half- terrified. "I thought you can't touch a ghost. Why could I?"

"Figure it out by yourself, I believe in you--"

"SHAY!" a voice called, making me look at Dylan. 

"Later," Dylan decided. He pointed at the closet, and I changed the shirt again. 

"SHAY!" Bobby called again.

"See ya," Dylan grinned, and within a second he was no longer there.

• •

 "Bobby."

"Shay?" my uncle asked, the two of us staring at Super Fun Night. Oh Kimmy. 

"I feel like I can't stay," I told him. "I can't count the reason I should stay. One by one they all just..." I paused, "seem to leave. I'm starting to think that they're not just leaving. They're leaving me." 

Bobby pulled me closer to him. "You can't blame yourself. Your parents have bad blood between them since forever."

"Usually they at least want the kid. They didn't even call to tell me they're leaving. You did."

"Well-"

"And Grandpa? My fault."

"No, okay, dad was old. You did not cause that stroke."

"And Panda? My cat?"

"Cats are weird," Bobby dismissed. 

"And Dylan?" I finally asked. He stayed silent. "See? I'm the reason everyone leaves. I wanna get to leave this time."

"And go where?" Bobby asked. 

"Amsterdam sounds good." Bobby raised an eyebrow, "you may be wondering, and yes it's not cheap but! I searched for a flight with stops and I found one real cheap! 460 dollars!"

"You're going to your dad," he decided.

"What?"

"You're going to your dad's, he'll take care of you best." I raised an eyebrow.

"In what world a failure of a writer and a dog can take best care of me?"

"In a world where I can't, in a world where your mom is starting to work again and won't be there to take care of you--" I opened my mouth to protest, "and in a world where you are not going to Amsterdam!"

"Geez, you're a meanie." Bobby looked at me, then glanced at my Hail Patrick shirt.

"Please throw this shirt away and don't pack it."

"Wait, you're serious?" I questioned.

"Very."

"Oh my GOD! BOBBY!"

"That's the end of it." he decided, "you wanna leave? Go to your dad. Don't wanna? Stay here and wait for everyone else to leave."

"Fine! I'll be out of your hair by the weekend," I announced, standing up and stomping angrily to my room. 

"SHAY! I didn't mean it like that!" Bobby called to me, though he obviously did.

Dylan was waiting silently on the bed, a note in his hand. "She says sorry. She says she'll miss you. She says bye."

I sat by his side. "Is it pretty there?"

"It's the best." Dylan assured. "You'll love it." I blinked away the tears.

"It was good while it lasted," I admitted. "I wish I could have more time in Beacon Hills." Dylan stayed silent for a moment, "but at least it was here."