Chapter Text
It’s a late October evening, one that I loved. When rain poured down my windows, I could cozy up with a good book. But tonight was different. Tonight, I was in Stiles’s worn-down jeep with Harvey and Scott. The jeep was well loved, the soft, cracked leather of the seats and the warm, comforting scent of Stiles–pine and vanilla with a hint of whiskey–made it even better, the rain hitting the windows in a soft pitter-patter pattern. The song on the radio was a soft country melody, the boy who was singing it was love-struck and happy, singing about a girl with forest colored eyes and hair like leaves in the autumn. I recognized the voice, but it was one I couldn't quite place.
“Who sings this song again?” I asked, leaning forward from the backseat. Scott was in the front with Stiles as always.
Stiles looked away, a soft pink painting his pale cheeks. He looked like he didn’t want to say anything, but Scott cleared his throat, looking back at me and Harvey with a slight grin on his face.
“It’s about-ow! Man, what was that for!?” Scott turned back around in his seat as Stiles elbowed him in the ribs, sending a glare his way.
I raised an eyebrow. The only other girl with forest green eyes was Lydia, but she was a strawberry blonde; her description matched almost perfectly until the singer talked about wanting to map out the girl’s freckles like constellations with his lips. I stiffened and looked out the window back at the rain. The girl the love-struck boy was singing about was me, but who was the boy? I racked my brain for answers while Harvey was sitting beside me, a shit eating grin on his face like he knew something I didn’t.
“What?” I mumbled, looking over at him, “You know something I don’t, hm?”
He nodded, leaning closer to me, his voice in a low whisper as he spoke, “The boy singing is Stiles.” He leaned back and laughed slightly at my shocked expression.
What the fuck?
“You're positive it's Stiles singing?” I whispered back, my eyes wide and my mouth agape.
He snickered, his lazy hazel eyes filled with mischief. He pushed the fluffy, cherry red striped curls away from his blemished face, “Yeah, it’s pretty fucking obvious, shithead.”
I glared at him, my eyes darkening with a bit of uncontrolled anger that bubbled and boiled under my skin, “It was just a question, you don’t have to be so fucking rude, Harvey,” I muttered, crossing my arms and hanging my head. Pouting, I was pouting. My soft cinnamon curls falling in front of my face, I pushed a blonde highlight away from my freckled skin before sitting back up in the seat. My fingers traced the cracked leather, feeling the soft insides of the seat. I looked over at Stiles in the driver's seat and smiled slightly, imagining my body replacing Scott’s next to him. It almost felt right, felt like…Home. I quickly pushed the thought away, I couldn’t fall for my best friend's brother. It wasn’t right, he would hate me.
Stiles pulled up to my house a few minutes later, the song had long ago ended, replaced by a song about whiskey and the moon. I got out of the car, thanking him for the ride, before quickly walking up to my doorstep. I fumbled with my key before unlocking the door and gripping the cold brass in my hand. I took one last look at the beautiful boy in the blue jeep before I stepped into my house and locked the door behind me.
That night, I had dreams of an amber-eyed boy in a blue jeep.
I woke up to a phone call, and when I checked the caller ID, I realized it was Stiles. I answered it immediately, thinking it might be urgent because who calls someone at three in the morning?
“Hello..?” I put the phone up to my ear, my words weighed down with sleep.
“Hey, Angel..” I automatically knew what happened. Harvey and Scott’s stupid Dare or Drink game; they knew I hated it, so all three of them played it together, and now Stiles was drunk. His words were slurred, and he sounded more joyful than he had been the previous night.
“Whatever you're going to say, just say it. No funny stuff.” I mumbled into the phone, my voice switching to a softer, almost quiet tone not to wake up Ethan and Aiden–my brothers.
He let out a quiet giggle, his voice going softer to match mine, “I like you, Jaydee. More than you know, you're like an angel. My Angel…”
Wait.
What?
That couldn’t have been genuine, he was drunk. Too drunk to even think about what he was saying, but then I remembered something Harvey had said to me when we were having a sleepover one night, “Drunk words are sober thoughts, Jaydee. People genuinely say what they feel when they're drunk.” I took a shaky breath, trying to calm my now-racing heartbeat. “I’m your what?” I asked, my face flushing a deep shade of red in the darkness.
“You're my angel.” He repeated before the call disconnected, and the screen went dark.
I sat in the darkness for a while, trying to figure out the how and the why. How the game got to that point and why he liked me and not Lydia or Malia.
That same morning, at a better hour than the ungodly time Stiles called me, I woke up to my alarm blaring. I quickly hit the stop button before the annoying scream woke Ethan and Aiden up.
I slowly climbed out of my bed and got my outfit for the day, then went into the bathroom to shower. I got in and let the warm water wash over me; grabbing my loofah and soap, I began to gently wash away the heavy, almost humid cover of Stiles’s 3:00 A.M confession that clung to me like a second skin, rubbing the rough, scratchy texture of the loofah over my skin, letting the shower head spray at the suds. When I got out of the shower, I grabbed my nearby towel hanging on a hook and dried my body.
I grabbed my undergarments from the bathroom counter and put them on, following that was a pair of shorts, a long, green patchwork skirt, a cream colored undershirt, and a floral corset. The soft, almost cotton-like material of the skirt flowed around my knees, and the corset fit just right; it wasn’t a traditional corset, but a flimsier version that was more comfortable and easier to breathe in. I slipped on my stockings and Mary Janes, the coffee brown a perfect contrast to the matcha green of the skirt. I leaned over the counter and grabbed a peachy colored blush and a fluffy brush, applying it to the apples of my cheeks, then a thin coat of mascara to my long lashes, making them easy to see with the dark brown color now coating my eyelashes.
As I walked out of the bathroom, Ethan and Aiden were waiting for me downstairs on the couch in the living room. My brothers had a look on their faces as Aiden threw an apple at me, and Ethan put a motorcycle helmet on my head as I caught the apple. I made a shout of protest as they dragged me out of the house.
“Let me go!” I yelled as Aiden set me on his cycle, his face stern as he held my shoulders in place.
“Sorry, Sis. We both decided that from now on, we’re taking you to school. You're not riding the bus anymore.” He shrugged, getting onto the motorcycle in front of me and starting the engine. It roared to life, and he sped off, causing me to hold onto him tightly to not fall off the back.
We arrived at school in less than 15 minutes, Ethan and Aiden pulling up next to each other in the school parking lot. They took off their black helmets as I took off my red one, setting them with the cycles as we shouldered our backpacks and entered the school. I was flanked on both sides by a brother. My facial expression was one of annoyance when they finally left me alone at my locker. I put my books inside it when my waist was suddenly encircled by a pair of warm, strong arms. Startled, I looked up, and my eyes met a pair of warm, brown eyes.
Stiles looked down at me with a small, hopeful smile, “Hey, Angel.” He murmured, twirling me around to face him, his hands still placed on my waist. “You never said if you liked me back or not.” His thumbs rubbed small circles on my waist, and I shivered a bit, my face flushing a deep red.
“I-I uhm…I like you back.” I stuttered, my words a whisper.
He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear as he spoke again, “I didn’t quite catch that, Angel. Mind saying it again?” He smirked. I felt the curve of his lips against my ear as I shuddered.
“I like you back, Stiles,” I repeated, louder this time. He pulled back and grinned, grabbing my hand, he pressed a small, gentle kiss to the corner of my mouth before dragging me to class.
That would be the last bit of normalcy I ever got.
The last day of October.
I was staring into whiskey brown eyes, but they didn’t belong to Stiles. I mean, they did. He was different; gone was the smile he always wore, gone was the soft color of his cheeks. It seemed like Stiles was gone, replaced by a pale boy with red under his dark amber eyes. I tried to move, but I couldn’t; I was frozen in place. When it came to fight or flight, I froze. Stiles, or Void Stiles, stepped closer to me, trailing a finger along my jawline.
I shuddered, tears filling my eyes as he spoke, “Poor, poor Jaydee. You thought your precious Stiles was still here, still loved you? You must be stupid to think he could overpower my hold on him.” He whispered, pulling me close to him by my chin. I squeezed my eyes shut when suddenly, I felt something cold and metallic press against my forehead, and that's when the tears fell.
“I’m sorry, Jaydee. I have to do this, you know too much, and I can’t have you telling our friends.” He said with a mocking tone in his voice. Pressing the gun further against my forehead, clicking off the safety,
“Please, I won't tell anyone. You don’t have to do this, please, please.” I begged, opening my eyes to meet Void’s.
He just laughed, putting his finger on the trigger, “Oh, Jaydee. I wouldn’t have to if you just minded your damn business!” His words started soft before he was yelling, his eyes filled with anger and a hint of regret. A hint of Stiles.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, preparing myself until I heard a voice, softer this time. “Angel..?”
My eyes snapped open, and I met the wet face of Stiles. he was crying, no. Sobbing. “I don’t wanna do this, Angel. But he…He said that I wouldn’t regret it, that we…We wouldn’t suffer anymore.” His eyes held a determined glint in them, he wasn’t going to back out of this. Not when he was so close to power, that's when I realized that he was in Void’s hands all along, for the whole time we were together, he wasn’t…Stiles.
I let out a pained laugh, tears blurring my vision. “You're not Stiles. You never were.” I looked into his eyes, and they darkened again.
“You're right, I never was. I tricked you, and you fell for it.” Then I heard a gunshot, but I didn’t die immediately. A searing pain shot through my chest, and I looked down. Blood blossomed on my shirt, and I collapsed into Void’s open arms. He mockingly stroked my hair, “Oh, Angel. If you weren’t so stupid.” He muttered, setting me on the floor and sitting next to me.
I looked up at him, with my final breath, I murmured, “I knew the whole time, and I still loved you.” I saw his eyes change from the dark coffee color to the light whiskey color. He leaned over me, cupping my face in his hands.
“Angel? Angel, stay with me…Please, I’m here now. Stiles is here. Please just stay with me, I promise he’s gone. Just stay with me, please.” He pleaded with my dying body. I looked up at him as my vision blurred and soon went dark, but I felt his lips on mine, my cheeks, my forehead. And then I heard a gunshot.
Nobody knows what happened to the two teenagers found dead inside the basement of Eichen house. Only that there was love, a gun, and a promise. But they knew how it happened.