A brief lapse of unconsciousness enveloped Alistair, the respite lasting only a few moments before being rudely shattered by the sting of Michelle's hard slap against his cheek. Alistair's body jolted in response, gasping for air as the fiery pain surged through him once again, searing his senses. His eyes snapped open in alarm, meeting Michelle's gaze, who looked like she was on the edge of panic as her rapid-fire questions shot forth. "What the hell happened here? Why's there a body?! What happened to you?"
Alistair was only partially conscious, his ability to respond to Michelle's barrage of questions significantly lacked. Nevertheless, he managed to utter a response through gritted teeth, his voice strained by pain. "A couple of broken ribs, and I'm sure one of them punctured one of my lungs."
Michelle's eyes widen at this. Her desperation was palpable, a mixture of anxiety and concern that radiated from her. Her thoughts were moving rapidly, "What do I do? Do you remember -" Her stream of thoughts was abruptly cut off by Alistair.
"Your blood," he rasped.
The realization dawned on Michelle, a mix of frustration and self-reproach intertwining in her mind for not being able to think of that, facepalming herself in her mind. She reached for a small knife, her hands trembling slightly as she cut into her palm. There was no sense of sting, her wound held to Alistair's lips, a lifeline in the form of her blood.
As the wound on her palm sealed itself, Alistair's breathing eased, his strength gradually returning as he felt the bones of his body start to heal.
After a moment, with his renewed energy, Alistair pushed himself up, his gaze fixing on the lifeless body of the defeated wendigo. A tense sweep of his surroundings followed, seeking any trace of Scott or Liam. After asking Michelle, the girl expressed no one was there when she arrived.
"We can't stay. The police will be here soon," Alistair urged, his voice a whisper of urgency. He guided Michelle towards the stairs, their movements deliberate and cautious as they navigated their escape from the hospital.
The siblings pressed forward, their hurried steps echoing in the corridors as they maneuvered through the passages of the hospital. The air seemed to buzz with tension, each heartbeat pulsing with urgency. As they neared the nearest exit, the distant sound of approaching deputies set their nerves on edge. The sight of uniformed figures ascending the stairs, drawn like moths to the dead body of the wendigo.
Michelle's whispery voice sliced through the air, laden with a sense of urgency. "I heard a chopper, Al. We need to get out of here before Dad shows up."
Slipping through the hospital's exit, they were greeted by the night's cool embrace. Alistair's car stood in the street. With haste, they found themselves inside, the doors sealing shut behind them and the motor raging to life.
The insistent ringing of his phone interrupted the tense atmosphere. An exasperated growl rumbled from Alistair as he glanced at the screen, revealing Scott's name. Warily answering the call, he remained silent, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he waited for Scott to speak.
"Al, I did something bad," Scott's voice quivered with unease, casting a shadow over the conversation. In the back of the call, Stiles appeared to be engaged in his own anxious mutterings.
Alistair's voice dropped to a low, dangerous register, closer to a growl. "Scott, where is Liam?"
"I need your help, Al. I don't know what to do." Scott's words rushed out, laden with desperation. The tremble in his voice danced on the edge of vulnerability, revealing the depth of his turmoil. He sounded close to start crying.
Alistair's response etched with a blend of concern and frustration. "Scott—" His voice was firm, bordering on stern.
"I bit him, Al, I bit Liam." Scott interrupted, his words a torrent of guilt and anxiety. "I-I had to do it to save him."
Alistair's jaw clenched, struggling to contain his anger and concern. "Where are you, Scott? Where is Liam?" The Keeper had to concentrate hard enough to not curse the alpha over the phone, that was reserved for when he saw him.
"My house. Please come," Scott's plea was tinged with urgency, and before Alistair could offer further inquiry, the line went dead.
Alistair's exhale was heavy, the weight of the situation settling upon him like a heavy cloak. He gripped the steering wheel, guiding the car onto the road that led to Scott's home.
Beside him, Michelle spoke. "You need to relax," as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Alistair's response was tinged with sarcasm and pretended understanding. "Oh, thank you, Mi. How could I not have thought of that?" His voice dripped with mock admiration.
Michelle's eyes rolled in response, a retort poised on the tip of her tongue. "Okay, asshole, there's no need for that sarcasm," she shot back, her tone a mixture of exasperation and affection as she smiled.
Alistair's lips quirked in a wry smile. "Yes, there is. It's impossible to relax in this town. We couldn't even have two weeks before someone went on a killing spree," he countered with a sigh.
Michelle countered with a glint of dry humor. "Fair point. Although, we actually we did enjoy three weeks after that."
"You have a point," Alistair admitted with a hint of amusement.
Changing the subject, Michelle probed with a teasing tone. "So, why are you all worked up about Liam? Ready to come out of the single game again?"
A knowing smirk curled Alistair's lips. "I don't know. He's adorable. But you seem to be the one eager to get on him."
A hint of embarrassment danced across Michelle's features as she evaded eye contact and her cheeks colored. She cleared her throat, attempting to regain her composure. "Maybe he's cute."
"Yeah, maybe," Alistair chuckled, the tension of their situation momentarily lightened as they continued their journey toward Scott's home.
Standing outside Scott's house, Alistair exited the car, requesting for Michelle to stay inside. Before proceeding, he leaned toward Michelle's window, imparting a pointed statement. "Oh, and just for the record. He's all yours." As the words escaped his lips, a mix of playful tease and fun honesty. Michelle's sharp intake of breath indicated her surprise, and he just moved away laughing.
The door to the house was unlocked, prompting Alistair to venture inside and make his way upstairs. The sound of voices reached his ears, guiding him to Scott's room.
Stepping into the room, Alistair got glimpses of Stiles talking to Liam, something about the boy possibly dying. A note of panic underscored Stiles' words. "Is-Is he crying?"
Alistair took in the scene in front of him: Liam bound to a chair in duct tape, his cheeks wet by tears. The force of his voice echoed through the room, "You kidnapped him?!" Startled, every gaze in the room fell upon him, their confusion and panic evident.
Scott's attempt to defend their actions was met with a skeptical arch of Alistair's brow. "Al, it's not what it looks like," Scott's voice wavered.
Fixing his gaze on Stiles and then shifting it to Scott, Alistair's voice dripped with incredulous disbelief. "So, you didn't kidnap him and tie him to a chair?" The sarcastically rhetorical question lingered in the air.
In the wake of Scott's hesitation, Stiles' voice wavered in response. "Okay, it's exactly what it looks like. But! Scott did it."
Alistair's patience wore thin, his frustration palpable as he spoke. "I don't care! Untie him, now!" The authority in Alistair's tone was enough to send a collective shiver through the three boys' spines. Swiftly complying, they freed Liam from his restraints. What Alistair failed to anticipate was Liam's reaction. As soon as his arms and legs were released, Liam wielded the chair as a makeshift weapon, striking Scott on the side with a force that shattered the chair and sent Scott sprawling to the floor. Subsequently, a punch connected with Stiles' face, toppling him in turn.
Amid the chaos, Alistair's hard glare remained fixed. His voice held a warning edge as he addressed Liam when the boy moved to approach him. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." As Alistair was the only thing between him and the exit, Liam directed his rage toward him. Alistair's movements were fluid and precise as he sidestepped Liam's attack, his counterattack swift and efficient. A clenched fist struck Liam's abdomen, expelling the air from his lungs. Capitalizing on Liam's instability, Alistair's leg swept his balance, and a subsequent blow landed on Liam's back, momentarily let him chest first on the floor.
Liam's struggle to rise was met with a heavy foot pinning him to the ground. Alistair's voice cut through the tension with an authoritative hiss. "You're going to walk out and get in my car, got it?" Liam's frantic nod affirmed his understanding. As the Keeper withdrew his foot, his tone assumed a chilling edge. "Try anything, and you'll find a dagger at your back, understood?" Once again, Liam merely nodded after what wounded like a scared whine.
Guiding Liam's by the arm, they left, not even turning to see how the other two were holding up.
Alistair ensured Liam was seated in the backseat like a chastened child. After a somewhat awkward exchange of greetings between Liam and Michelle, Alistair initiated their departure. The drive back home was accompanied by futile attempts to reach his father via phone.
Upon returning home, an air of tension enveloped everyone, the atmosphere palpably charged. Greeting Esther, her surprise at Liam's presence was barely concealed. Alistair quickly told her he was going to guide Liam to his room for the night.
As the door closed, Liam's heartbeat seemed to echo in his ears as Alistair moved, yet instead of approaching Liam directly, he gravitated toward the closet. The Keeper searched for a set of more comfortable clothes: a pair of shorts and a loose shirt. The gesture left Liam slightly perplexed, his head tilting like a confused pup.
Extending the clothing to Liam, Alistair's words now had its usual gentleness back. "Take a shower and change, I'll bring tea." The boy's bewilderment only deepened, prompting a patient sigh from Alistair. Clarifying, he inquired, "With or without sugar?"
Liam's response was hesitant, his voice soft. "With." Alistair nodded and departed, leaving Liam alone to ponder this sequence of unfamiliar events. As Alistair's footsteps descended the stairs, Liam was left alone in the room, a sense of uncertainty mingling with the anticipation that prickled beneath his skin.
Once downstairs, Alistair proceeded to explain everything that took place to his mother with a concise overview of the situation. The expected arrival of David, however, remained in question due to the hospital incident and the dead body. Alistair's exhalation captured his sense of frustration as he gathered the tea intended for Liam before ascending the stairs once again.
The bedroom door creaked open under Alistair's hand, revealing Liam standing shirtless in the room. The sight of Alistair elicited a reaction from Liam, his lips parting in apparent surprise, his cheeks coloring. Alistair preempted any potential discomfort by addressing the matter directly. His tone was even, reassuring. "You don't have to use it if you don't want to. I don't use one, either."
With his cheeks aflame and his heart racing, a mixture of embarrassment and relief, Liam managed to respond with a timid nod. Closing the distance between them, Alistair handed Liam the steaming cup of tea with a gentle smile. "I'm gonna go shower. Get comfortable." With those instructions, Alistair departed for the bathroom, allowing Liam to acclimate to his new environment in solitude.
Sitting on the bed, the cup of tea cradled within his palms, Liam took a tentative sip. The warmth spread through him, a soothing balm for his frayed nerves. As he sat there, the minutes stretched into moments of quiet reflection, the night's events and everything they could mean in the future.
After twenty minutes of profound reflection under the shower, Alistair eventually emerged from the bathroom, a faint sheen of moisture glistening on his skin, wearing solely a pair of shorts, the lines of his muscles etched a portrait of strength.
Meanwhile, Liam remained seated on the bed, cross-legged. His gaze fixated on his hands, as if they held the keys and answers to all the questions swirling within him.
Seating himself alongside the young boy, Alistair broke the silence that had lingered between them. "I think you've experienced too many emotions for just one night. Do you want answers right now, or do you want to sleep? It's up to you."
Liam gently shook his head in response, the fatigue and drowsiness evident in the timbre of his voice. "I-I think I'd just like to sleep right now." His words, though spoken in a hushed tone, held a vulnerability that tugged at the strings of Alistair's heart.
Offering an affirming nod, Alistair gestured for Liam to recline upon the bed, a silent invitation to find respite amidst the sheets. Rising from his position, Alistair retrieved a blanket, ready to leave the room.
The boy's question, laden with sleepiness and uncertainty, followed Alistair's movements. "Where are you going?" Liam's voice was like a fragile thread, very soft and small.
"To the couch," Alistair answered with a quiet tenderness, a gesture meant to give Liam the space Alistair supposed he needed.
Yet, as Alistair moved away, he couldn't ignore the storm of doubt that played out across Liam's expression. Observing his expression closely, Alistair perceived the clouds of uncertainty that seemed to gather, his demeanor taking on a shy hue, punctuated by the faint crimson hue that adorned his cheeks. And then came the question that held within it a blend of vulnerability and anxiety. "Would you sleep with me?" Alistair discerned the layers of fear that lingered beneath those words. In those words, Alistair sensed the fragility of Liam's plea, the raw vulnerability that came with being thrust into the world of the supernatural, his innocence shattered by the horrors he had witnessed. The weight of responsibility settled heavily on Alistair's shoulders as he considered the boy before him, the child who was grappling with a reality beyond his understanding.
Alistair moved to turn the lights off, stepping toward the bed, he settled himself beside Liam, who had nestled onto his side, facing away. In the quietude of the moment, thinking Liam was asleep, Alistair heard what sounded like muffled cries. When he looked at the boy, he saw how his small body moved with soft spasms from his muted crying.
Uncertain of how to offer solace, Alistair shifted closer, molding his form to the contours of Liam's. His arm enveloped the fragile frame, a gesture meant to provide a sense of safety, and his head resting over his head. Alistair's voice, a tender caress in the silence, traveled to Liam's ears. "I know you're so confused and scared right now, but I promise you, you're not alone. I won't leave you alone."
As the minutes passed, Liam turned, He couldn't make out anything in his face through the darkness of the night. As Liam nestled his face against Alistair's chest, the pent-up emotions that had been contained within him found release, cascading in the form of quiet tears. Tears streamed down his face, dampening Alistair's skin. The boy's arms clung with an almost desperate fervor, seeking in Alistair's presence a sanctuary to shield him from the tumultuous world beyond. It felt as though Liam wanted to melt into the Keeper's body, desperately seeking safety.
With a heart that ached in empathy, Alistair held Liam's tremulous form, his arm providing the steadying anchor that the boy so desperately sought. As the cries eventually subsided into quiet sobs, and the grip loosened its intensity, Alistair responded with a gentle rhythm, his hand stroking Liam's back in a soothing cadence.
Feeling the tremors abate and the grip soften, Alistair leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to the crown of Liam's head, his hushed words a lullaby of reassurance. "I won't leave you alone."
In that tranquil moment, the weight of their realities was suspended, and as the night drew its curtain over the world, Liam and Alistair succumbed to the embrace of sleep.
The following morning dawned with a sense of calm that Alistair hadn't anticipated, surprisingly, things were not as awkward as Alistair thought they were going to be.
As the first rays of sunlight painted the room in gentle hues, he gradually emerged from his sleep. Yet, what greeted him was a tender surprise that unfurled across his senses like a whispered secret. Liam, nestled beside him, was nuzzling his nose against Alistair's neck in a gesture that resembled the affectionate antics of a kitten seeking warmth and closeness.
A warm rumble of laughter escaped Alistair's chest, vibrating gently against Liam's body. Gradually, Liam stirred, in a half-awakened state. In a state somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, his grip on Alistair's torso tightened, a gesture that exuded a sense of contentment. As if driven by instinct, Liam's nose sought solace in the curve of Alistair's neck, inhaling deeply in a manner that spoke of his calmness.
However, as awareness fully dawned upon Liam, a flush of embarrassment painted his cheeks in a shade that rivaled the reddest tomatoes. His gaze likely carried a blend of mortification and endearing sheepishness. Yet, as the morning's routine unfolded, with showers taken and breakfasts consumed, the remnants of such a fleeting moment of vulnerability seemed to dissipate into the rhythm of the day.
In due course, Alistair found himself assuming his role as designed driver, taking Michelle and Liam through to school.
Alistair's attempt to keep a watchful eye on Liam was akin to balancing on a tightrope of distraction. Scott and Stiles, two disruptor forces of nature when it came to subtlety, seemed to be on a mission to make his task nearly impossible. Their actions bordered on theatrical, as Scott practically lunged after Liam, reminiscent of a relentless killer chasing its prey through the dense woods, a scene out of a bad horror movie.
Upon eventually closing the distance between himself and the trio in one of the hallways of the school, Alistair overheard fragments of what Scott was saying to Liam. Amidst Scott's utterances of "We're brothers now" and "The bite is a gift," Alistair knew that conversation wasn't going to end well. And it didn't, proven when Liam defiantly tore off the bandage encasing his arm, revealing a fully healed wound. Witnessing this, Alistair felt a surge of relief.
Amidst the dramatics, Stiles' expression mirrored Alistair's internal state of bewildered incredulity at everything Scott said. A shared understanding of the absurdity played out before them.
Alistair's voice cut through the tense atmosphere with a tinge of exasperation. "You should've let my father deal with that." Both boys jumped at Alistair's sudden presence.
"And where is he?" Asked Scott.
"Too busy with that stupid wendigo," Alistair muttered, the words brimming with a mix of irritation and frustration.
Leaving the bewildered duo in his wake, Alistair moved towards his classroom.
During a free period, their collective minds met nearby the school buses, seeking a solution for the predicament posed by Liam.
The proposal was to take Liam to Lydia's lake house, a place utilized by Malia during her full moon transitions. The girl still struggled with the arduous nature of adjustment to her new reality, despite her extensive training under David and Scott.
Malia's suggestion of resorting to a drastic measure—namely, kill Liam—was swiftly cast aside as the group explored alternative options.
Lydia proposed luring Liam into attending a fake party. Recognizing that Alistair held the greatest likelihood of persuading Liam effectively, the collective consensus gravitated towards him as the primary messenger.
However, Alistair's compliance was not without its conditions. The Keeper made clear that if anyone hurt Liam, he would kick their ass.
Tracking down Liam in the bustling school hallways was like following the tail end of a comet. Amidst the chatter and shuffle of students, Alistair managed to spot him in the company of Mason and Michelle.
Alistair exchanged a quick, almost imperceptible nod with Michelle, a silent cue for her to understand. Liam's cheeks took on a gentle flush, and Alistair gestured him with a nod of his head, so they could speak in private.
Liam joined him, his anticipation palpable. He seemed both curious and eager. Alistair decided to not waste time, choosing to be direct. "So, my friends said they were doing some kind of party tonight, and I wanted to know if you would come with me."
The surprise in Liam's eyes was evident, his initial astonishment quickly evolving into an enthusiastic nod. His smile was radiant, an unspoken affirmation that he was in, and he was excited.
After a reassuring pat on Liam's shoulder, Alistair said, "Great. I'll pick you up." Then, he turned to leave.
As darkness painted the sky, Alistair's car made its way to pick up Liam. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he finally spotted Liam waiting on the sidewalk, his eager smile casting a radiant glow even in the darkness.
Alistair had to restrain himself for a moment. The way Liam reacted every time they were around each other, made the Keeper think that he was possibly leading Liam to the wrong idea. He concluded it would be best to clarify everything with the teen wolf as soon as the full moon was out of picture.
With a quick exchange of greetings, hey set off toward their destination - the lake house. The serene night seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for the events to unfold.
The car's interior was immersed in a comfortable silence, occasionally punctuated by the soft hum of the engine. Alistair's gaze flickered between the road and the boy in the passenger seat, the subtle play of shadows dancing across Liam's features. He could practically taste the tension radiating off Liam, a reminder of the full moon. Alistair decided against breaking the silence with music, not wanting to further agitate Liam's enhanced senses.
A shift in Liam's breathing caught Alistair's attention, the boy was struggling with the onslaught of the full moon. Without a second thought, Alistair's hand found its place on Liam's chest, a comforting touch to anchor him amidst the whirlwind of sensations. His voice, steady and calming, cut through the air, "Liam, I need you to breathe with me."
The sensation of Liam's grip on his hand was firm, almost desperate, as they synchronized their breaths. The rhythm gradually steadied, returning to a semblance of normalcy. Alistair's focus remained on the road, but his awareness was attuned to Liam, and the boy answered an incoming text.
Minutes ticked by, and the lake house finally came to view. Alistair's gaze flicked to Liam, noting his bewildered expression as they approached. There was no light from the inside, there was no music being played. There was nothing. An exasperated sigh escaped Alistair's lips, those idiots didn't know how to pretend anything.
Liam's confusion was evident, his question hanging in the air as they stepped out of the car. "Wasn't there supposed to be a party?" Liam's voice carried a hint of uncertainty.
Alistair's response was casual, a touch of pretended confusion lacing his words, "I thought there was. Maybe they're all inside. I don't think tonight was poker night." His words were deliberately misleading.
Guiding Liam to the entrance, Alistair's grip on his arm was gentle yet firm. As the door swung open, revealing the gathered faces of Alistair's friends, Liam's initial instinct was to turn and flee. However, Alistair was one step ahead, closing the door behind them.
Caught between a bewildering situation and the intensity of emotions, Liam's eyes searched for Alistair. The hands that settled on his shoulders felt grounding. Alistair's voice reached his ears, "I need you to trust me again." And Liam's response was a sigh.
Facing the others, Liam addressed them, "What the hell is this?"
"Consider this an intervention." Responded Stiles.
Then, the room buzzed with tension as each member tried to convey their intentions, their voices blending into an unintentional cacophony as they all conveyed any information that came to their minds.
Alistair and Michelle shared an uncomfortable glance, feeling the weight of their ill-conceived plan bearing down on them, wanting to dig a hole in the floor to be buried.
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－ ４１０３ ｗｏｒｄｓ －
Author's note
I don't know if it's obvious, but I love Liam 🥺
Pt. 2 will be updated tomorrow. Stay tuned!
Votes, comments, and follows are always appreciated.
- 𝒿. 𝒻. 𝒸. 🐼💜