𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖊𝖑, 𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓
* * *
* * *
( 𝖜𝖔𝖑𝖋𝖘𝖇𝖆𝖓𝖊 )
It was a couple weeks after the full moon and Scott had gone back to normal. He couldn't have apologised to Stiles enough for his actions. Stiles had eventually forgiven him and they now stride down the hallway at school.
"Look, do you have a plan for Allison yet?" Stiles asked.
"She's in my next class," Scott informed his best friend.
"Get the necklace," Stiles said abruptly.
"Right. Get the necklace," he repeated walking into the class room and making a bee-line for the seat next to or behind Allison. His plan was blocked by Lydia and Elle who slammed their books down onto his preferred desk blocking his chances momentarily to get Allison's family necklace.
"Try another row, sweetheart," a sarcastic smile was sent his way by Elle. He sighed and made his way to a seat diagonal from the Argent.
"Okay, class, let's settle down. Let's get our books out," the teacher called, walking into the classroom.
"Allison," whispered Scott capturing her attention.
She turned around and whispered back to him, not in the mood to talk, "Hey. Class is beginning."
"I know. I'll shut up. I just, um-I have some stuff on my phone that I wanted to send you. I thought you might like it," he tried. Elle and Lydia gave each other looks knowing that this can't end well.
"Okay,"
"All right, I'd like to return to our discussion from yesterday with a more in-depth analysis of Iago and the way in which he preyed upon Othello's jealousies. We seem to have some here today."
Scott sent photos to Allison of him and her when they were dating. She saw them and began to tear up. She ran out of the room with her bag to go the the bathroom. Elle and Lydia glared at him and he made his way out of the class as well.
"Allison," he called when they were in the deserted hall.
"Why did you send me those? Are you trying to make me feel even worse for breaking up with you?" Allison asked, tears beginning to fall.
"No. I thought you would like them. I-I thought they would remind you of us."
"Are you trying to hurt me-Get back at me?"
"No." Scott said definitely. He would never want to do that.
"Please don't talk to me. Okay? I need more time to get to just friends. Okay? Please," she begged before walking away from him again. He felt just as crushed as he did when she first broke up with him.
* * *
Later that day, Allison and Jackson were in the swimming pool doing laps and racing each other. Scott was up in the stands watching them but out of their sight. He was rummaging through her bags trying to find her necklace when he caught some of their conversation.
"You beat me again," whined Allison.
"I have an unfair advantage. You see these cheekbones? Aerodynamically suited for speed in water." Jackson joked before asking her the question he really wanted to know, "So you're coming to the game tonight, right?"
"I was thinking no," Allison hummed.
"You have to. We win tonight, we're in the semifinals. It's not because of Scott, right?" Jackson checked.
"I was thinking it might be a little weird," she admitted.
"He's fine with it. He actually asked me if you were coming. He said he hoped you didn't feel weird about it," Jackson lied.
"He did?" Allison asked, shocked.
"Yeah. You know, he's a good guy. You can't hate him too much. I mean, it's pretty obvious he's a little immature to be dating somebody like you. But then, you - you can't really blame him for trying,"
Scott's hands balled into fists and he walked away from her bag briskly, having enough.
* * *
"Jackson! This little text-not funny!" screamed Lydia as she found her (ex)boyfriend down the hall.
"No, I wasn't trying to be funny. I would have put a 'ha ha' at the end of it. And, see, there's no 'ha ha," he pointed out harshly, enjoying her disturbed and heartbroken look on her face.
He knew it was unfair, and that she didn't know what he knew, but she was getting in the way and he didn't feel that way for her any more. He always wanted the best thing he could have, and it wasn't her anymore; it was the bite. He knew she was going to be upset but he tricked himself into believing that he didn't actually care about her anymore and that she was just a barricade to his success.
"'Lydia, please give back my spare house key at your earliest convenience-As we are no longer dating'?" Lydia read out his text that he sent her making sure they were on the same page about what they were talking about. He was mouthing along with the text, cockily.
"You didn't lose it, did you?" He asked when she finished.
"What the hell is this?" She screamed again.
"Well, Lydia, in preparation for some big changes, I've decided to drop some of the dead weight in my life. And you're just about the deadest." Ok maybe he took that one a bit far but he couldn't help it, he was on a roll and was finally getting rid of her.
"Are you breaking up with me?"
"Dumping, actually. I'm dumping you."
"Dumped by the co-captain of the lacrosse team. I wonder how many minutes it'll take me to get over that. Wait, seconds, actually. Seconds!" Lydia yelled at him when he walked away from her. She ran into the bathroom crying her eyes out.
Elle spotted Lydia turn into the nearest bathroom with a red face and watery eyes. She narrowed her own and took off towards the strawberry blonde. She rushed over and pulled the door back to let her in.
Lydia was sat on one of the seats with a tissue as she cried convulsively. Elle gasped and chucked her bag down in the corner and jogged over to her friend, pulling her to herself in a tight squeeze. She stroked Lydia's long red locks as she kept her head on her friends shoulder, never stopping crying. Isabelle just shushed her and carried on stroking.
"He-he br-broke u-up with m-me! Jac-Jackson d-du-dumped m-me-me," Lydia cried. Elle gasped and pulled back, holding her best friend's face in her hands, one on each cheek, forcing Lydia to look at her.
"What?" Elle asked confused. She knew Jackson was upset after Lydia kissed Scott (Hello? Who wouldn't be?) but she thought they were going to talk things through and get over it.
Lydia just shook her head and broke down into tears again, nuzzling her face into Elle's hand searching for the comfort she knows Elle can give her. Elle sighed again and just pulled Lydia back to her, "I'm gonna talk to him later, okay?" Elle promised.
Lydia chuckled and nodded her tears dying down and she pressed her forehead against Elle's shoulder before pulling back again wiping away any more tears she had, "Please do. Or even better, hit him for me? I swear I'll love you forever." Lydia sighed once more, her crying period over for the time being. She'll carry on when she's back at home on her bed with Isabelle watching cheesy chick-flicks and submerge herself in 'Caramel Chew Chew' Ben and Jerry ice cream.
Elle jerked herself and Lydia up from the closed toilet seat where the Martin girl was perched. She lead them towards the mirror and held Lydia in front of her by the arms.
"Lyds, you're not wallowing away the rest of the school day. You're gonna go out there and act like nothing happened. Hold your head up high, there's only a few hours left of the day anyway." Elle told her, wiping away some mascara that had run under Lydia's eye.
* * *
After school, Stiles had made his way straight back home. "Hey, Stiles!" The sheriff called from out side his son's bedroom. Stiles swizzled around on his chair ready to answer the door.
"Yo, D—Derek. I, um-" Stiles stuttered when he spotted the recent innocent fugitive.
"What'd you say?" His dad asked when he made it outside his room shutting the door clumsily. He leant against it to act 'natural'.
"What? I said 'Yo-d-dad'."
"Listen, I've got something I've got to take care of, but I'm gonna be there tonight. I mean, your first game."
"My first game. Guh, it's great. Awesome. Uh-Good." He panicked, forgetting he had been bumped up to first line.
"I'm very happy for you. And I'm really proud of you."
"Thanks. Me too. I'm happy and proud-" Stiles agreed, "-of myself." he added at the end
"So they're really gonna let you play, right?" Sheriff Stilinski questioned.
"Yeah, dad. I'm first line. Believe that?"
"I'm very proud."
"Oh, me too. Again, I'm-" he was cut off by his father pulling him into a hug, he suddenly felt very awkward as he and his dad were having a moment but he was harbouring a fugitive in his bedroom, "Huggie-Huggie, huggie-"
"See you there," Sheriff pulled back and walked downstairs.
"Take it easy!" Stiles called after him.
"I'm sor-oh!" He was slammed into his now closed door by Derek Hale who held him by the neck of his top, pinned to the door with a finger printed at him.
"If you say one word-" Derek warned.
"Oh, what, you mean, like, 'Hey, dad, Derek Hale's in my room-Bring your gun'?" Derek let go of him, "Yeah, that's right. If I'm harboring your fugitive ass, it's my house, my rules, buddy."
Derek pulled Stiles' shirt down so it goes back to how it was originally. Stiles imitates his actions onto Derek but he didn't approve of it. He jerked forward slightly to action that he was going to head-but Stiles and Stiles jumped away quickly at the action and glare sent his way
"Oh, my God!"
"Scott didn't get the necklace?" The Hale asked when Stiles sat down back at his desk.
"No. He's still working on it. But there's something else we can try. The night we were trapped at the school, Scott sent a text to Allison asking her to meet him there-"
"So?"
"So it wasn't Scott," explained the human.
"Well, can you find out who sent it?"
"No, not me. But I think I know somebody who can," Stiles replied, a devious glint appearing in his eyes.
* * *
"You want me to do what?" Danny inquired when he arrived at Stiles Stilinski's house.
"Trace a text," Stiles answered simply.
"I came here to do lab work. That's what lab partners do,"
"And we will, once you trace the text," bargained Stiles.
"And what makes you think I know how?"
"I-I looked up your arrest report, so-"
"I-I was 13. They dropped the charges!" Danny excused.
"Whatever."
No, we're doing lab work." Danny decided.
"Oh, my-"
"Who's he again?" Danny asked pointing awkwardly to Derek who was at the back of Stiles' room reading a book.
"Um, my cousin-Miguel," Stiles lied, not looking at Derek, sensing the death stares he was now receiving.
"Is that blood on his shirt?"
"Yeah. Yes. Well, he gets these horrible nosebleeds. Hey, Miguel. I thought I told you you could borrow one of my shirts," Stiles reminded Derek so he slammed the book he was reading onto the bed and pulled off his shirt in exchange for a new one, "So anyway, I mean, we both know you have the skills to trace that text, so we should probably-"
"Uh, Stiles?" Derek cut Stiles off.
"Yes?" He sighed, turning around to see Derek still shirtless with a top in his hand stretching it to make a point.
"This-no fit."
"Then try something else on," he pointed out stupidly, "Sorry," he apologised to Danny. Stiles turned back around to see Derek with an extremely tight orange and blue striped top on, showing his muscles. "Hey, that one looks pretty good, huh? What do you think, Danny? The shirt,"
"It's-it's not really his colour," Danny participated, feeling very uncomfortable with being in that position.
"You swing for a different team, but you still play ball, don't you, Danny boy?"
"You're a horrible person," Danny hissed at him.
"I know. It keeps me awake at night. Anyway, about that text-"
"Stiles! None of these fit." Derek growled throwing another shirt to the floor.
"I'll need the ISP, the phone number, and the exact time of the text," Danny caved in, getting to work on the computer.
Five minutes later he was finally done and shared what he had found. "There. The text was sent from a computer. This one."
"Registered to that account name?"
"No, no, no, no. That can't be right." Stiles hissed, looking at the name.
Melissa McCall.
* * *
Elle was sat on Lydia's bed with Lydia laying across her. She was soothing the distract strawberry blonde by stroking down her red hair and shushing and cooing to her.
"I hate him! I hate him! I HATE HIM!" Lydia screamed, before breaking down into sobs again.
At the bottom of the bed was an empty DVD case for Bridget Jones' diary, three tubs of Ben and Jerry ice cream, and several empty bars of chocolate wrappers. A half-filled mug of hot chocolate left to turn cold, lay abandoned on the bedside table.
Elle plugged her phone into a speaker that was down the side of Lydia's bed and played songs that she knows Lydia likes; sad, happy, dance, rock... Whatever.
Lydia gave her a small smile and picked herself off of Elle's lap and trudged over to the mirror. What she saw disgusted her. There she was, red matted hair, puffy eyes and swollen lips. She sighed and started to apply the intended make up to make herself look like she had never shed a tear.
Elle hated seeing her sister (in everything but blood) this upset over something. But she knew that sometimes you have to go through the bad times to appreciate the good times.