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It’d been 8 years since the death of Scott’s first love.
He’d learn to cope with the loss through bonding with Stiles and surprisingly enough, Derek Hale and Chris Argent. They all knew what loss felt like, knew the way a chest could be hollowed into nothing, how a breath could be stolen for years. But most importantly, they knew how to continue living.
That had been Scott’s main problem after Allison had taken her last breath through stony lips.
Days and nights would come, the sun rising, the moon falling. He’d go to school and maybe grab some pizza, but he wouldn’t talk much, not even to his mom who stayed with him in his room many nights after late shifts. He rarely spoke to anyone, a call to Stiles here, a text to Isaac there, but never anything that actually amounted to much. His grades started to fall again, and his dad left town feeling even more helpless trying to obtain a relationship with a son who had gone mute suddenly. He kept his alpha status, but he couldn’t help but feel as though it were just a joke now.
He couldn’t be the alpha.
Stiles, Cora, they were right. He couldn’t protect anyone, after all, he was just a kid who showed up and found the bodies.
And on one late evening, with the wind rustling and the sun setting, he found Allison’s body limp and cold in his arms.
He wasn’t an alpha, he wasn’t anything.
Scott caught himself often daydreaming back to the night he’d stayed in Motel Glen Capri while he was submerged in dreary, never ending sadness. How he’d wished to end himself, to stop any further harm from happening to anyone else he loved; and often times after Allison’s death he’d wished he’d gone though with it. Scott wanted to be nobody again. He didn’t want to be alpha and held responsible for all of the people he loved, but at the same time he wanted to protect them, had tried with all his heart. He’d thought that night that he was doing well by going after Lydia, by trying to save her from the nogitsune, by trying to save Stiles. Then, he’d felt it was right. Now, it all felt wrong, felt like a dulled blur that only silently crept into his mind when sleep was so far out of reach.
It’d taken Scott quite some time to even be able to say he was okay again.
Somedays, he liked to think he was fine, that the world was suddenly balancing out, stabilizing around him. Then he’d catch sight of a bow, or use his laptop where the username and password was still ALLISON, even stupid, petty pens could knock Scott off balance, sending him surging back into definite sadness.
When he felt himself reach these depths of despair he tried what he’d always done, what felt comfortable and familiar to rid the darkness constricting his heart, he looked to his friends. Which is why when Stiles and Derek showed up at his door step, two and a half years after her death, Scott nearly fell apart in both of their outstretched arms. He’d hugged them both till they were wheezing with pain. But he had smiled, something that hadn’t felt comfortable for years.
After that, it was all just a process of rebuilding himself.
He’d graduated from high school by then, opting to not go to college fresh out of school and giving himself some time to breathe. Stiles had gotten accepted to Berkley, but stayed in Beacon Hills and attended the local college just to stay by Scott’s side.
By this point his major side-effects had faded, but darkness still lulled at his soul, often pricking his thoughts. He still doubted himself, but Derek called frequently, offering encouraging words and trying to convince Scott that if there was ever a time to need a pack it was now.
He still wasn’t ready.
By year four Scott did head off to college where he roomed with Stiles. Deaton had recommended him for Vet school, and at this point in Scott’s life he hadn’t considered actually thinking of the future, he was still blindly stuck in his past, so he agreed with Deaton with a put on smile.
He played video games with Stiles and did homework to pass the time, never going out to party, but he enjoyed watching Stiles come back hungover and helpless every now and again. It made a certain part of his chest swell with warmth when he was able to take care of Stiles, made him feel like things were sort of normal again.
It was in his second year of college that Kira transferred back to Beacon Hills, attending the college and almost miraculously living in the room across the hall from he and Stiles’.
He spent many afternoons during the first couple weeks back at university only catches glimpses of her through the cracks in his door or when Stiles left at late hours and he caught her door open, her nose in a book. It was only after she’d caught him staring one afternoon after he’d decided to leave his door open too and gave him a smile, that Scott was able to smile too. Even though he was still in town, he missed his mom a lot, and Stiles had a heavy work load practically always. As a result, Scott found himself seeping back into his lonely, depressed slump.
But Kira saved him.
That’s what Scott always likes to think.
He’d been staring longingly at a pen who’s logo featured an arrow, double whammy, when Kira had glided into his dorm room. She watched him stilly for a moment, before clipping the pen from his hands lightly, resting her other hand soothingly against his shoulder before she tossed it out the window. She gave him an apologetic expression but Scott had nodded firmly, it was something he needed.
They went for coffee regularly after that, every morning at the same time, rain or snow, they were there in the steamy confinements of a local shop downtown. Kira talked about her dad mostly, her major, never about what had happened in their past life at Beacon Hills, and she never pressed Scott.
This is how he learned to trust her.
They weren’t official, Scott suspects Kira was too scared to ask, afraid Scott would crumble into nothing other than a pit of guilt and denial if she had, which was probably a pretty accurate outcome. But when Kira leaned in, ready to make the first move, ready to take things further, ready to be there for Scott—really be there—Scott couldn’t do it. Couldn’t subject himself into being in any relationship with anyone that wasn’t Allison, even though he’d practically been dating Kira for months now. Something about a kiss made it feel too real, like Scott would actually have to full heartedly know he was with Kira and that Allison was never coming back to be with him.
So, he straightened his back and leaned further from her reached.
The hurt reached her eyes before it reached Scott’s heart, but when it did, he felt it buzzing ferociously inside him. It’s okay, she’d told him, you don’t have to. That didn’t make Scott feel better, he wanted to give her what she wanted, wanted to give in to what he wanted. But there was a bow and arrow lodged into his heart, and he wasn’t ready to pull it out.
He went home that night and carded a restless hand through his hair all evening, feeling like a searing lunatic. His door was opened and he could see the faintest hint of Kira’s too. He perked his head up further from his bed so he could catch the full view of her room, where he saw her hanging up photos of she and Scott on her dresser mirror, just like Allison used to.
After that moment, Scott’s not really sure what kicked in inside of him. Whether it was the way Kira glided confidently when she was with him or the way she looked at ease in intimate moments Scott was able to catch with his careful eye, he’s not sure. But a voice finally told him, Allison’s he’s sure, that it’s okay, Scott, to love someone else. I want you to be happy.
Scott took a deep breath, “I still love you, Allison.” He says to the ceiling. “Forever.” He promises. And then he’s marching down the hall with purpose, through Kira’s doorway and snatching the photo of them from the coffee shop out of her hands and laying it on the bed. Then he’s kissing Kira and the worlds fading away with his sadness.
By year six, a year after dating Kira, they were ready to get married. It was a huge step and probably ludicrous to normal people, but Scott didn’t care and neither had Kira when he’d suggested it. She’d said yes instantly, taking him into her arms and sighing happily into his shoulder. When you knew, you knew, Scott thought, just like with Allison. He’d known that first day in class when she walked shyly through the door that it was her, it would always be her. But things happened and Scott was happy to share his heart, if only because he knew she wouldn’t expect anything less.
The wedding was small. It was held in Beacon Hills, deep in the forrest. Scott had picked it out, Kira hadn’t even as much as questioned it. When he stood at the alter, his suit quite the contrast to the trees around him, he felt Allison’s presence. She was there, among the trees with her bow strung behind her back, her smile as bright as ever. That was the day Stiles and Lydia came clean about their relationship, Scott wished so badly Allison had been there to tease them with him.
Now, two years later he’s walking through the same set of woods. The leaves are crunching in under him and there’s a poking sensation reaching his leg every time he goes to take a step. He knows it’s from the pen buried in his pocket.
The suns shining down beautifully on the preserve, the wind a mere rustle in the breeze. He’s glad Kira never questions his time out in the woods, out at Allison’s spot. She always gives him a sweet, encouraging smile and then goes back to taking care of Ally, their one year old daughter.
It’s just past noon when he reaches her grave, it’s the only one here. Scott insisted she be buried here, where she belonged most. No one had argued.
Tears are pricking at his creased eyes, but he’s smiling. Her presence his heavy today, Scott suspects it has to do with the lightness in his chest. He feels at ease and unguarded, such a stark contrast to himself from years ago.
He allows himself to sit next to her headstone that’s a bit rusted from natural causes and something Scott both hates and loves all at once; time.
He’s unable to think clearly as he takes the pen from his pocket, too many memories flooding through his brain like a mirage. Her first day at Beacon Hills, hopefully this is your last stop for a while. The dance, because I love you. A cold night in his bedroom, because I know we’re going to be together.
And though the tears are falling he’s smiling brighter than he ever has, extending the pen out to the headstone, not expecting a comply.
“Just in case you forgot, again.” He says, laying the pen beside the headstone.
His chest is swollen as he stares out into the distance. He’ll live in Beacon Hills for the rest of his life, mostly just to be close to her. To always be near the girl he’ll love forever.