"Jared, I'm warning you. I'm an empathetic vomiter. You throw up, I'm gonna throw up right back on you and it will be profoundly disgusting."
Jared, looking sickly, shook his head. "Please don't talk about throwing up. It's not good."
"I might throw up on you just to make a point, Jared," Coach said, staring down at the pale boy.
"It's not good. It's not good."
Iris squeezed her eyes shut in hopes of shutting out her surroundings. From where she sat, she could hear the rumblings of Jared's stomach. The noise only slightly bothered her, but the thing that sent waves of anxiety rolling around in her gut was the reminder that she could hear what others couldn't.
"Now the rest of you, don't think we're going to miss this meet because of a slight traffic jam--" Coach pointed to the front of the bus with his thumb, behind his back, as if the accident were a mere fender bender. "--A minor tornado warning... Jared. We're gonna make this thing. Nothing is gonna stop us!"
Someone raised their hand in the back. Iris heard the rustle of their sleeve and the rise of their heart rate.
"Stilinski, put your hand down."
"You know, there's, like, a food..."
It was later and despite Stiles Stlinski's promise, Iris still had no clue what the fuck was going on. She wanted to know why Scott smelt like blood and why Stiles seemed to hold all the answers. Despite her qualms, the sound of his voice sent warm tingles through her chest, though, and she tried not to focus on the way it soothed the ache in her chest.
"We're not gonna stop," Coach stated simply.
"Okay, but if we stop-"
"Stilinski!" The sharp noise of Coach's whistle made Iris clap her hands around her ears. Her earbuds dug into the sensitive part but did nothing to stop the piercing noise.
"Shut it! Seriously! It's a little bus!" Coach yelled. "Stop asking me questions!"
"I hate him," Stiles said to Scott from under his hand.
Someone blared their car horn.
A kid in the front of the bus sniffled.
Soft music played from someone's headphones.
Iris whimpered, softly, just enough to try and ease the knot of frustration that had wound its way around her heart and wouldn't ease.
It didn't work.
She felt like screaming. Crying. Puking. Yelling at Scott and Stiles for not explaining things to her. Anything.
But all she could do was sit, listening to the drum of multiple heartbeats and try not to have too big of an existential crisis.
# # #
Coach's whistle blew.
They're standing right next to her bus seat.
"It's 60 miles to the next rest stop--"
Whistle.
Iris sunk deeper into her bus seat.
"Being cooped up for hours is not good--"
Whistle.
She regretted every decision she'd made to get her here.
"You know, our bladders aren't--"
Whistle.
They fought for a few minutes longer before Coach ended the argument with a sharp, long whistle blow. He yelled, "Get back to your seat, Stilinski!"
"Okay!" Stiles shouted back.
Iris winced.
"And Jared, keep your eyes on the horizon."
Stiles's face lit up, as if... he had an idea, an idea to get the bus to stop.
* * *
I
ris stumbled after the rest of her peers off the bus. Between the headache and the strong stench of vomit, she, herself, had begun to feel nausea take a complete hold on her body. She placed a delicate hand over her mouth and focused on her feet hitting the pavement. She was heading for the safety of the bathroom, away from prying eyes. As she did, she took note of Stiles, Scott, Allison, and Lydia taking off in the same direction. Briefly, her mind went over the fact that Allison and Lydia were there. But before she could dwell on it, a strong burning sensation traveled up her chest and she broke into a sprint.
She barely made it to an open stall before she emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet.
The sound of it hitting the water made her ears ring and she gagged at the smell.
It'd been forever since she'd last reacted so strongly to something like that. She wasn't an "empathetic vomiter," as Coach put it, but the smell...
The memory sent Iris heaving again.
She groaned quietly but refused to let her head rest on the toilet seat even though her body seemed to get heavier with every shallow breath. The outside world went away and she could only focus on how disgusting and sick she felt. Her stomach burned and the taste of vomit on her lips reminded her of how she'd reacted to waking up in a hospital after-
The door creaked loudly.
Someone was coming in.
Every nerve in Iris's body was set alight as she recognized the smell.
Stiles.
Relief replaced the panic.
With the back of her hand, Iris shakily wiped away the remnants of her upheave from her mouth. Her knees ached from where they had harshly met the floor.
She heard the sharp intake of breath Stiles took when he finally rounded the corner and caught sight of her kneeling.
He whispered under his breath, "Oh, shit."
The bathroom had grown cold in the past few minutes and Iris shivered lightly.
Stiles stepped forward to do something, anything to help the girl in front of him. Her skin was paler than its normal shade and she kept shivering, even though the bathroom was warmer than outside and seemed to be getting warmer the longer he stood. In short, she looked bad and he didn't like it. Hesitating for only a second, Stiles slid down to the floor next to Iris.
A pair of jean-clad legs entered her vision. She looked up to see a pair of brown eyes with moles dotting the surrounding skin. An erratic heartbeat filled her ears, which quickly reminded her of the anxious pit in her stomach. She opened her mouth to speak, to explain herself but the burning sensation, duller this time, arose in her chest. She turned away from Stiles to heave in the toilet again.
Cool, slightly quivering hands brushed her neck and she shivered at the cold meeting her heated skin. It was a relieving sensation that sent tingles down her back. However, it did little to alter her entire body's temperature and she remained wrapped in overwhelming warmth.
Stiles gingerly grabbed the soft waves of dirty blonde hair and brushed them out of her face.
They stayed there, with Stiles's hand resting gently on her head, holding her hair, and Iris dry heaving until all she could do was shudder. After Stiles realized she was done, he moved his fingers away only to tuck her hair behind her ears.
"What happened, Iris?" He whispered, scared to interrupt the silence that had settled over the bathroom.
I don't know, she wanted to say, but her mouth refused to open. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath of stale air. It scratched at her throat which had been rubbed raw from earlier. She tried again, "Water, first?"
Stiles hesitated, wanting answers, but he got up anyway and was only gone for a few minutes before he returned with a bottle of water. During that time, Iris closed her eyes and leaned against the doorframe to try and slow down her quickly beating heart.
"Thanks," Iris croaked. Slowly, she lifted the bottle to her lips and drank. Her whole body felt wrecked and all she wanted to do was sleep but Stiles was still here and he wanted answers. "I don't really know, it was probably me just reacting to... to what Jared did."
"It looked a lot more violent than empathetic vomiting. Did it have anything to do with you being able to smell Scott's injury earlier?"
Iris felt like laughing. Of course, Stiles would make the connection quicker than she did. Her chest hurt too much to move so instead, she settled for a nod of her head. "I think so, yeah, maybe. I need to-" She stopped herself, she didn't know what she needed.
"Can you help me up?" She asked instead. Stiles hesitated again, a curious look in his eyes. Still, he stood up quickly and held out both hands for her to grab onto. Iris spun a little on her knees to face him then pulled herself up with his help.
Stiles's hands had lost some of their cool temperature in the heat of the bathroom and his heartbeat was soaring. She focused on the sound instead of her quaking legs and her fingers that had gone white from gripping Stiles's hands so strongly. He gave her a few silent moments to collect herself but before he could open his mouth, the door to the bathroom opened again.
Iris inhaled sharply as the loud noise overtook the sound of Stiles's heartbeat, taking away what she had been holding onto. Jaw clenched, she shifted her gaze away from Stiles's veiny hands to the intruder.
Lydia strode in with an impatient look on her face. She looked from Stiles's tense jaw to Iris's pale face and stopped.
"What's going on here?" she asked, almost impatiently.
"Iris, apparently, is an empathetic vomiter, and Jared, well..." Stiles answered before Iris could, but she figured it was mostly the truth. "Jared set her off, so to speak."
Lydia, with her 4.0 GPA and level-genius intelligence, did not believe a word that came out of his mouth. Obviously, something else was going on here, something they couldn't share with Lydia. She looked between the two, analytical eyes picking up on everything. She didn't say anything, except for, "Are you able to get back on the bus, Iris?" When she took a step forward to look closer, Iris let go of Stiles's hands and moved closer, on unstable legs, to her other friend. Stiles followed close behind, only to gently slide Iris's arm over his shoulders to act as a crutch when she stumbled slightly. They were about the same height and the action allowed Iris to lean most of her weight on him.
She was suddenly overcome with warmth. Her mind went blank, concentrating only on the points of contact between her and this boy. The tap, tap, tap of Lydia's impatient foot on the concrete brought her back to the present.
"I... I think so. Probably. What happened to Scott?" Lydia would know, Lydia knew everything, maybe she would know why Iris felt like this and why Iris could hear the heartbeats of the people in the next room.
The redhead looked over at Stiles, trying to figure out what she was able to say and what kind of answer she could give. Stiles blinked and nodded slightly. Lydia took a shaky inhale then let it out. "Scott was attacked and he wasn't healing. Allison and I were here to help him."
"Is he okay?"
"Yeah, he's fine now. Allison was with him when I left."
Iris nodded, relieved to hear that he was okay. "Wait, you said he was attacked? Who would- Why would someone attack Scott?"
"Someone who thought they could best him."
And they left it at that.
* * *
Iris leaned heavily on Stiles as they made their way out of the bathroom. The warm air hit her skin and danced over it, raising goosebumps that she felt from her knees to her fingertips. She tried to ignore the worried look Stiles gave her when her gait slowed. It was a blessing and a curse; she could hear his heartbeat and know how concerned he felt for her, but the knowing caused her skin to warm and her stomach to roll with anxiety.
"Stiles, what's happening to us? To me?" Iris whispered. Stiles's grip on her side, on the middle of her ribs, tightened. The action told her that he had the answers to her question.
"Stiles," she insisted.
"On the bus."
Lydia, walking right next to them, heard their discussion but didn't say anything.
Iris focused on putting one foot in front of the other until the trio stopped in front of a fight. She couldn't really see what was happening, just could hear the sounds of fist forcefully meeting flesh.
"Stiles, what's happening?"
Iris whipped her head around at the sound of Scott's voice. He was leaning on Allison, a mirror image of Iris and Stiles, but he looked much better than when she had seen him on the bus.
Stiles replied, "They went after him. I told 'em what was happening with him and they just went after him."
Iris took another deep breath of the outside air and found what she was searching for; the scent of blood that lingered in the air around Scott and Allison. "What happened to you, Scott?" She wanted to ask but instead turned her attention to the boys fighting in front of her.
Stiles looked at Iris to let her know they were moving then together they started to follow Scott closer to the fight. As they approached the circle that had formed around the two, Iris shuddered when she realized that the two of them weren't fighting each other, it was only one beating on the other without resistance.
"Isaac! Isaac! Isaac!" Coach shouted as he threw himself closer to the boy currently driving his fist into one of the twins' faces. Danny tried to get Isaac off but to no avail. Iris looked from his heaving chest to the blood trickling from the twin's face then back to the red smeared across Isaac's knuckles.
"Scott..." she whispered, but couldn't bring up the courage to say anything else. He still looked paler than normal, but he moved with speed and purpose to get inside the ring.
"Isaac!"
Everything went still.
Silence rang in Iris's ears; it was quickly buried by the sound of multiple heartbeats and whispers.
The beaten twin-- Iris had yet to be able to tell them apart-- lay panting on the ground. Danny leaned over him but seemed at a loss for what to do. Isaac and Scott were staring at each other, trying to come to an understanding without speaking. Stiles was breathing heavily through his nose at her ear.
"On the bus! All of you!" Coach shouted, breaking the hush. Iris winced at the sharp sound, forcing herself closer to Stiles. He looked down at her with furrowed eyebrows, confusion in his eyes.
The crowd departed-- Danny helping the twin onto the bus and Allison and Lydia following Scott and Isaac onto the bus-- until all that was left was Stiles and Iris. After a moment's hesitation, Iris took a step forward to unravel her arm from Stiles's shoulder, then another unsteady step, and another before Stiles made his way up to her side.
Together, they walked to the bus, both mentally preparing themselves for the conversation that lay ahead.
-
So this will be the last update before I get the rest of the previous chapters rewritten... probably. I dont know how long that'll take but I hope to keep it to a short amount of time!! Thank you for all the love, and thank you for reading!
- nyssa, author and editor