Chapter Text
Day by day, you watched the calendar days become marked in red sharpie. Days became numbers, numbers became time and you knew you were beginning to have none left as you looked at the sparkling “PROM NIGHT” in glitter gel writing at the end of the month. Prom Night, a night that was deemed the most exciting times of a high schooler’s life, was only a few days away. You had been attempting to romance anyone at this point, trying to get their attention on you or to at least hold their hand for a night that might be drowned in booze, cocaine and whatever other thing that people brought in.
You flinched, thinking about the cold and disapproving stares of any of the six that had watched you even open your mouth. Vera Oberlin, though you had spoken to her before, looked at you with disdain. You were dust under her show and always siding with her was Liam de Lioncourt. They had always sneered at your tactics, no matter how much it benefited them. It was only to benefit them.
Polly didn’t care much for you either, you knew. No- it was what you felt. She let you come with her to parties and you had fun, admittedly. But then she never remembered the time together.
Scott was too busy being wolfish, Miranda obviously never batted an eyelash at you and Damien had no sympathy for your well-being.
You were alone. Trampled and alone. No one cared about your well-being.
So you stood here now, looking down at the green grass from the very top of the school. Only the railing kept you in the premises of safety but that wasn’t today. You knew where you wanted to go and how you were going to do it. That was okay, wasn’t it? No one needed you.
No one wanted you.
You hopped up onto the railing carefully with bare feet, your shoes tucked gently up against the wall of the library. There’s a breeze on the air and you take a moment to enjoy the only loving caress you think you’ve felt since coming to this high school. No one would know though. That’s all that mattered as you began to think as to what kind of funeral might be had. Or if they would even care enough to give you something to your heartbroken body.
You hear your name being spoken behind. You frown and your heart also stutters as you recognize the nice tenor that is Scott’s voice. The werewolf. You look over to him to see an expression on his hairy face that you haven’t seen before. His blue eyes are trembling with an emotion that you know well from your own reflection and it’s...puzzling. His shoulders are hunched over, as though he’s trying to be smaller than what he is and his tail, behind him, is curling up between his legs.
“Uh… what… are you doing?” His words come out soft and you flinch. Why was he being so cute and nice to you now when it never mattered to begin with. Your wounded body rises up with anger and you spit words at him. “Leaving this school.”
He tries to smile a little but only the corner of his mouth twitches as he thinks. “Well, why don’t you use the front doors? They’re not that far, I can walk yo-” You cut him off bitterly. “I’m not going to use the front doors, Scott. I’m not going to use them ever again.”
“So… are you going to climb to school everyday?”
You almost throw your hand over your face. Your bitter rage and hurt feelings momentarily dwindle into the feeling of “Oh for fuck’s sake.” You sigh instead, narrowing your eyes. You can feel how tired you are… “If I say “yes” will that get you to leave me alone?”
He approaches by stepping forward, shaking his head. “I don’t think it would be good to leave you.”
You’re bitter again. “Go away, Scott.”
“But…” There’s a kicked puppy expression on his face, his eyes flicking to the old flooring. “I don’t want to.”
“Why?” He flinches a little. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him do that. “I… I don’t know. I just don’t think I should.”
There’s a harsh sigh from your chest. Your tired body is beginning to relent. “Scott, go away.”
“NO!” His voice makes your heart stutter and leap. He tries again, his eyes shut tightly, as though he’s hiding from the creature under his bed. “No… I don’t want to.”
You have two options in your mind. One is clinging to the possible hope that Scott is trying to make sure you’re not going to jump. You think your chest is clinging onto that tiny little fact that he might care enough just to at least keep you from doing something you had countless days of thought on. The other option is to shrug it all off. Again, you had been planning this for a very long time. Just some words from one guy who really never even cared in the first place aren’t going to stop you from dropping.
The sun is setting and your face turns to address the inviting warmth that stains your clothes. Your name comes from Scott’s mouth but you’re too tired to look at him. You let your weight swing forward slowly, your decision decided.
“Scott, can you pick up my shoes, please? I’ll come down.” You lie. You feel his personality and relief hitting your back as his shoes tap on the flooring of the balcony. With an exhale, your eyes close, weight distributing.
And you jump, ignoring his scream of despair behind you.
There’s a sound that bleeds through drowsiness. It’s mechanical, systematic and even cold. There’s nothing warm about it. There’s something that cuts through it and you can feel it in your left hand. It’s the only warmth you feel and you’re almost too tired to open your eyes. You knew you shouldn’t have been able to but maybe this is a part of death.
Very slowly, you force your eyes open. You feel drowsy, aching and like a crumpled piece of paper in the school trash bin. Fluorescent lights glare down at you and the somewhat pulled, sky-blue curtains show you that it’s night time. You can see the city lights in the distance, domed with a yellowed glow. Cars pass along, honking and swerving to avoid death and the like that you had oh-so wanted.
A soft voice calls to you from your left. You muster up lots of strength to turn your head to the side on a bleached pillow. A tear-streaked, wet and familiar face looks at you. Pretty blue eyes are glowing with depression and relief all at once as Scott smiles broadly, showing off his canine teeth. You can hear his tail beginning to thump enthusiastically on the seat’s arm. His hand is in yours, large, calloused and… tender. His warmth is the only one in the room.
“You’re awake!” His voice booms and you flinch. He seems to realize this and returns to sinking in his seat but smiling widely. “You’re awake,” he whispers. “I’m so glad! I really thought you were done for.” His admittance makes you nearly raise an eyebrow. You really thought that those moments had been your last. Not only that but his words somewhat hurt.
Then again, he is kind of an idiot.
His hand squeezes yours as you try to find your voice. You realize you’ve a breathing tube in your throat and you really start to wonder the damage.
“I… I brought your shoes for you.” He reaches down beneath the gurney you’re in and pulls up your shoes, clean and- wow, they are surprisingly clean. “I cleaned them for you! I thought that when you got out of the hospital, you’d want to take a fresh step!” He set them down and you can hear the heart monitor start beeping a little fast. “And I know I’m not the best person but I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
He scratches his beard with his claws, humming as he tries to think. “Uhh… it’s prom night, so no one else is here but…” He shifts a bit in his chair, scooting it over so you can see a shelf behind him. Every inch of it is covered in small to large cards. Every other card possesses tiny monster dolls and there’s even a “Get Well” balloon you somehow didn’t notice upon first waking up. He starts to point them out.
“That shiny one is from Vera, this really weird but cool one is from Liam and- oh, oh, the seaclam one is from Miranda! It’s a little bloody but there’s a pearl inside!” You decide to not ponder on if it was real or not. But you feel it all coming into your chest. You can’t muster sarcasm, your wittiness and aggression slowly dies and your eyes close. Scott stops what he’s doing immediately and you can see his shadow above you, blocking out the bright lights.
“H… Hey, are you okay?” A pause and his warm hand lets go. “You’re crying… I’m sorry, did I say something? Do I smell?” He starts smelling his breath. You shake your head a little, opening your eyes again to see this somewhat tired but nervous puppy dog of a man. For a moment, you don’t care that it’s prom night but you feel bad for Scott. Didn’t he have someone he wanted to go with?
You use a hand that feels like lead weight to point out towards the window, where the colorful lights of prom are surely flashing. Somehow, he understands what you mean. His smiles toothily. “Prom’s too loud for me. And I wanted to stay with you since… I didn’t want you to miss it alone.” The waterworks are coming even harder and you can’t stop it. It’s freeflowing with your feelings of frustration, previous despair, jealousy, bitterness… loneliness.
You sniff and a plaid sleeve comes up to your face. He scrubs a little hard but you figure it’s the thought that counts. He speaks again, his tone a little bit more bold.
“Hey! Do you wanna dance later? Have our own prom?”
Your wet eyes widen and your heavy hand points at you in disbelief. The heart monitor starts to beep more frantically and he looks at it nervously. “S-Sorry! Did I say something?”
Your fragile fingers wrap around Scott’s hand, searching for that warmth again. “Oh!” He seems to start understanding, his fingers wrapping gently in yours. You sigh, content and your heartrate decreases on the monitor. “I thought you hated me,” he admits and you shake your head. You decide the best way to convey your feelings right now is to gently pat your chest, fatigue still weighing down your body. He doesn’t seem to get it but he smiles anyway.
“Well, for now, I’ll hang out with you until you’re okay. I wanna help you walk when you get out! I wanna do lots of things with you. If it...makes you happy, right?” You smile around the contraption in your mouth and he accepts it as an answer. His fingers squeeze on yours and you begin to hear him ramble about everything and anything.
His fingers never let go of yours, no matter how sweaty they get. And for you? That’s okay. For you… it’s a miracle as your heart flutters in compassion rather than fear.
Scott stays by your side of his own volition. He doesn’t mind. He wants to be there for you.
And you feel the same way as he wipes your face and talks to you, waiting for you to heal and hoping to be by your side until you’re healthy. Even if it takes a long time, he doesn’t care. A lifetime is fine.
With you.