A Way Forward
He wished he could disappear at this moment. Close his eyes, open them again and be somewhere else. It didn't even have to be the In-Between. Just somewhere far away.
Somewhere where his mistakes wouldn't weigh heavily on his shoulders so that he could breathe. If only he could just breathe.
"You were surprised."
Stiles opened his eyes involuntary. He had felt her gaze resting on him for a while, but he thought if he didn't meet her eyes, then she would find another target.
"You didn't know about their scheme, did you? I like to think that you'd be forward about your doubts without relying on somebody else to do it."
"I made no secret of doubting you since the beginning," he said with a shrug.
Noshiko laughed. "You have so little faith."
"You should have told me that you examined the corpse. Maybe I would trust you more if you shared with the class."
He couldn't deny the bitterness in his voice. What would have been the point? She didn't trust him, and he didn't trust her. It was all a farce from the start. He had just always believed that he would outsmart her in the end. How wrong he had been.
"The night you went to the graveyard and met Silas, you assumed that they had taken the corpse, didn't you? Well, they didn't. We did. They just desecrated the grave to leave a message for you. I wish now we had understood it then. So many catastrophes could have been avoided."
Stiles inhaled sharply. Lately, it felt like his life was a car ride that sped up constantly making it harder to avoid hitting passerbys. One day he would hit something head-on, and the ride would come abruptly to an end. The acceleration made him sick.
"Was it at least conclusive? The examination."
"They used all of the missing people for a ritual. It left a mark on them, which is quite obvious when you know what to look for.
You see, when people die, their spirits are meant to pass on to the next realm. But sometimes, spirits get lost on their way, and so the In-Between was created where stuck spirits reside. However, demons and other unnatural spirits soon found a way into this layer between the realms as well. It's believed that the veil separating the In-Between from the other realms was very sturdy once, but it's become frail. Rituals such as this one have managed to make the barrier thinner. It's why more people develop the ability to sense this in-between layer, just like your friend. Her gift is not the Sight. Interestingly, her perception is auditory. That's why her voice has the strength to send spirits further back into the In-Between."
"I don't understand," Stiles said. "Why would anyone want to weaken the veil? How do they even know it's there?"
Noshiko looked out into the forest. "There has always been a fascination with the subject of death. What happens to us after we die? Are we truly gone? People are curious, but there is more to it. We need assurance that our time here isn't wasted, that we won't just cease to exist one day. Why do you think ouija boards, supposed psychics on TV or seances are so popular? Most of those attempts to communicate with the dead are harmless. But some people are too curious, too daring and take it too far. Every attack on the veil weakens it, and there have been many. This ritual was one of the strongest. It weakened the veil to a point where the barrier is no longer unbreakable."
"This ritual was not an attempt to speak to the dead," she continued after a pause. "Over time, the spirits stuck in the In-Between become weaker. They crave the energy of the living, which also makes them easier to exploit. Someone obviously had that information and decided to use it. They invited those spirits over and gifted them with hosts to possess. But spirits who have been so twisted have almost no human qualities anymore. They are only reduced to their craving for life."
"But how does the ritual work?"
"You'd need a passageway to the In-Between and that can only be created through pure energy and a sacrifice, maybe even more than one. It's all about balance. Granting someone a life, even if it's one as cursed as theirs had been, requires someone to give up theirs. To have control over the undead means giving it up in another area. I assume that's why they needed the werewolf alpha. She willingly sacrificed her status and became their puppet. She was guilty of a crime and atoned for it by trying to save a life. All of these acts are balancing each other out. It's like a complex equation. Beautiful in its own way."
"So the cult created a passageway to the In-Between. But where and what is it?"
Noshiko shook her head. "No, they didn't create it. To gain passage to another realm demands a lot of energy, a lot of sacrifices. We assume that many sparks before you have been used and exploited to create and strengthen it."
Stiles gulped. Is this what had happened to his mother? Did she have to die just for the veil between the dead and the living to become thinner? For someone reason, he had found more comfort in the idea that someone had killed her to claim her power for themself. At least then, she wouldn't have been part of a bigger plot with an underlying purpose that Sitles could to a degree even condone.
He was back in the cabin, the one that felt like home. Logs in the fireplace to feed the flames, a soft creaking noise coming from the rocking chair in the corner. His mother kneeling next to his grandfather, applying ointment to the weary and calloused hands. Her siblings playing and screaming in joy instead of lying in bed with a cough that would wrack their bodies. Blood pumping, adrenaline rising, endorphins being released. Laughter instead of oppressing silence.
As if sensing her thoughts, Noshiko hummed in acknowledgement. "At first, it doesn't sound like a bad thing. After my mother died, I wished there was a way for me to reach her, to ask for advice. The barrier seemed like a hindrance. Sometimes, all I'd need was for her to see how I'm doing so that I could know whether she agreed with my choices."
Noshiko shook her head at herself and smiled ruefully. Her mother probably would not agree with her choices, it seemed. Stiles just wasn't sure if she would think Noshiko too strict or too soft. Somehow, he got the feeling it would have been the latter.
"What we have to understand is that it does not do to linger once there's a way ahead for us. We can't be so scared of the unknown that we simply cling to what we know. This way, we stop growing and becoming who we're meant to be. My mother always saw things through as painful and as frightening the road ahead may be. And so will I."
She looked at Stiles then. "And I'm sure so will you."
There was nothing left to say. Stiles' head was empty. He wished he could find words for the fleeting thoughts that breezed through, but they were gone as soon as he noticed them. No words could encompass what had no form.
***
The strenuous atmosphere was almost palpable in the small space of the car. The air was layered with regret, bitter resentment and tension from the very beginning, but now it was also topped off with another layer of anxiety. It was no wonder that they had all the windows rolled down slightly and the radio on full blast.
For once, Boyd was glad to be the driver as that gave him the excuse for keeping silent. It had taken a lot of working hours and snacks brought from home instead of eating out to finally save up enough for his first own car. Knowing how much effort it had cost him to get there, he took very good care of his car. He checked the tyre pressure every week, allowed no food to be consumed inside, he patched up every scratch himself meticulously.
He knew that all the things worth having needed constant care and devotion.
He watched Erica fiddle with the buttons of his radio, for once not complaining about her careless handling of his stuff. He noticed how she kept glancing back over her shoulder at Isaac, never really daring to openly look at him.
He cast a quick look into the rearview mirror to watch Isaac staring out of the window. Danny next to him was looking down at his interwoven hands as if they were the greatest mystery on earth.
This was utterly ridiculous! Boyd had to suppress a huff. Didn't they have enough worries without them behaving like children? For some reason that Boyd never understood, people always thought of relationships as a straight road with no crossroads. There was one way to take if they wanted to reach the destination together. However, Boyd knew that sometimes people needed to make a detour or a quick stop to find their orientation again. Sometimes you made your way by foot, sometimes you were lucky enough that someone took you along for the ride. Sometimes you carried yourself there.
It didn't matter to him how you made your way. Everyone should do what fits them best. The important thing, in Boyd's opinion, was that you offered the people who needed it a place in your car or walked slightly ahead of them if they needed space as long as you made sure that they hadn't gotten lost.
You help each other along, but you couldn't force someone to go every step with you.
Rolling his eyes at their stubbornness, Boyd suddenly decided to make a detour. He took a turn to the right, causing Erica to take a look out of the window in confusion.
"Boo, you made the wrong turn," she reminded him without an ounce of accusation in her tone. Bless her heart, she would always think the best of him. Even so, he had to swallow the urge to tell her that he certainly knew the way to the Hale House even if he were blind.
"Sorry, I forgot that grandmother has asked me to do something for her and I just remembered. I have to get it done before she gets home in half an hour," he explained. He had promised her he would fix an issue with her computer before she returned home, so it wasn't a lie.
He turned into his driveway, parking almost directly in front of the door. He turned off the ignition, unfastened his seat belt and made to open the door when Erica grabbed his arm, holding him back.
"Are we just supposed to wait here? How long will that take you?"
"Not long." He squeezed her arm briefly. "Actually, Danny, would you mind helping me?"
"Not at all." Danny unfastened his seatbelt as well and got out of the car.
As soon as Boyd had closed his own door, he pressed on the key, locking the car.
Isaac's face turned into a grimace as his fist pounded against the window, the other hand rattling the door handle to no avail. He was spouting curses.
Danny glanced back towards the car worriedly. "Is it alright to leave them like this? You treasure your car, and they might destroy it."
Boyd shrugged. "They are already above throwing tantrums. Let's just hope that my faith isn't unfounded."
***
He stayed on the porch even as the sunlight dimmed and the owls started to hoot softly into the dawning of the night. He should've gone home but he still felt rooted to this moment. This moment was not done with him yet, something else needed to happen to achieve some kind of conclusion that he had been craving.
"It's getting late and I suppose you don't want to stay."
Stiles turned slightly and saw Jordan leaning against the doorframe. The currents of a conflict not yet aired were prickling in the air.
"Do you stay here with them? I thought you'd have your own apartment or something." He shrugged his shoulders half-heartedly because he hadn't spent much thought about where Jordan lived.
"Sometimes I stay with Kira but I'm needed here the most."
"Needed for what?" Stiles scoffed. "To be goon number twenty-three?"
Jordan's expression closed off. "I'm not a replaceable underling. I'm part of a team. But seeing as you are a solo player, I guess you wouldn't understand what that means."
Stiles walked over to him and analysed his face. "You crave belonging and a purpose so badly that you blindly follow them. Do you even believe in what the Order stands for? Or are you just with them because it is the only place for a phoenix to be?"
"And you? You belong nowhere because you always run away. You have power and do nothing with it! You're useless!" Jordan's eyes widened after his outburst. Immediately, his hand flew up to cover his mouth.
"This isn't how it's supposed to be," he muttered, a hand messing up his hair. "You should not doubt me. But you do. I should be there for you but I haven't gotten through to you. This is all wrong."
Jordan inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself down. His head lowered, he looked at Stiles with eyes speaking of earnest confusion and disappointment.
"I thought once I'd found you, I would have the connection I've been hearing so much about. It's supposed to be unique. An understanding that you can feel in the darkest corners of your soul. I thought I could have that once you've accepted me as your protector."
Stiles rolled his eyes. "Why would I need a protector at all? I'm not as vulnerable as most of you think. I can take care of myself, thanks a lot."
Jordan grimaced. "It's said that being a spark is too much power for one to hold alone. The phoenix should help carry the weight. In that way, I was supposed to be your protector. But I just can't reach you."
The man leaned heavily on the railing, dropping his head into his hands. Stiles felt sympathy well up for him. He couldn't imagine working his way up for one purpose only and then finding out that he couldn't obtain his role anyway.
"I don't hate you. It's the Order I don't trust. You have been nothing if not accomodating towards me," Stiles said, resting on hand on Jordan's shoulder. He was reminded of himself when he had tried so desperately to make a place for himself in the pack.
Jordan lifted his head slightly. "Do you think you'd ever come to care for me?"
Stiles had to force himself not to look away. "I don't know."
And he didn't. It was the awkward truth. Sometimes it was all the possibilities he had imagined with Derek that was holding him back. All the what-ifs and all the could-bes and maybes. Maybe it was indeed necessary for him to stop clinging to what he knows, what seems safe. It was so much safer to cling to an unrequited crush than to open yourself up to something new with the possibility to get hurt again.
"Maybe we haven't tried hard enough," Stiles thought aloud.
Jordan stood up to his full height then and looked at Stiles. "What do you mean?"
Closing his eyes briefly, Stiles closed the distance between them and lifted his hands hesitantly up to the other man's neck. This close, he noticed the man's unique eye colour. Grey with spots of brown and gold in it. Like a wheat field on a cloudy autumn day.
It was almost effortless to lean in and brush their lips together. It was a soft and tentative touch, barely even a kiss. Encouraged, he pressed their lips together with more force.
He felt Jordan inhale sharply through his nose, most likely in surprise at his bold choice.
His lips were warm. Stiles lingered for a while, waiting. For what, he wasn't sure.
They moved almost at the same time away from the other.
"Well," Jordan said.
"Well," Stiles said and shrugged.
They looked each other up and down as if they expected a sudden change in the other's appearance. They looked for a change that just wasn't there. When they both realized that, they looked down, shoulders dropping slightly.
Stiles lifted his head in surprise when he heard Jordan bark out an embarrassed laugh.
"It's kinda nice to know for sure now," he explained at Stiles' visible confusion. "Now I don't have to ask myself all the time what could've been."
"I do like you," Stiles admitted quietly.
Jordan smiled. "I like you too. I want to get to know you better. I still want to be there for you if you'll let me."
Stiles almost thought he had heard wrong. All of the man's expectations had been trampled on, his craving for this kind of belonging nipped in the bud and part of it was certainly Stiles' fault. But he still didn't turn his back on him?
Stiles mulled over the problem on his way home. He walked up the stairs asking himself if something was just wrong with him in general. Theirs could have been a connection that he had always dreamed of himself, but for some reason, he was unable to make it.
Without realizing where he was headed, he arrived at Derek's door and knocked. He opened it without waiting for a reply.
***
Isaac gave up rattling the door handle with a sigh. His strength could easily grant him an escape but not without causing major damage to the car. He knew Boyd loved this car.
This ploy was uncharacteristic of the normally gentle and quiet guy. Maybe Erica's bad mood had worsened his character. Isaac thought it entirely possible, recalling how his best friend had the uncanny ability to infect everyone around her with her emotions.
Ex-Best Friend, he corrected in his mind.
"Why did you do it? Just answer me this," he asked, honestly curious. He had thought their friendship was unbreakable, unshakeable. There were no secrets between them, no resentments unaired. What had caused the sudden rift?
Erica turned around in her seat but apparently decided that she couldn't hold this conversation like this. She climbed onto the back seat, almost elbowing Isaac in the process.
If it weren't for her shocked face, Isaac would have thought the jab was on puprose.
"I couldn't stand by and watch any longer. You were so unhappy," she said.
Isaac rolled his eyes. "So what? You thought you'd help me by making me even more miserable?"
Erica grimaced. "I thought I'd be like mother birds kicking their young out of the nest so that they learn to fly. I knew it'd be painful at first, but I needed you to finally dare something. You are so hung up on Scott and I was pretty sure that you didn't actually have any feelings for him any longer. But hanging on to an unrequited crush is safe. It gives you an apology for not trying something new."
When he thought of Scott, he no longer felt an ache in his chest. Some discomfort maybe, mostly due to the awkwardness surrounding their friendship now. Once, he could have imagined a future for Scott and himself but now, all he wished for things to go back to the way they were.
"You humiliated me," he said.
Thinking back on it, now knowing that everybody was already aware of his crush, he wasn't so sure if humiliation was the right word for it. The revelation had shocked no one except for Scott and himself. Because they had always avoided the elephant in the room. Sometimes, it was far easier to be stuck in a loop then attempt to move on.
Where did that even leave his friendship with Scott? Could they ever be friends like before? Where did that leave his friendship with Erica?
He looked at the blonde and noticed that there were tears gathering in her eyes. She tried to wipe them away before he noticed.
"It wasn't my best moment," she admitted. "What's the truth, though, is this: I want you to be happy, Isaac. I want you to finally break out of your shell and dare to fly."
She sniffed quietly, trying to hide it. He knew then that she meant it.
"You have to stop comparing me to a bird."
She gave a watery laugh at that. But her smile wobbled.
"Can you ever forgive me?"
He knew that the future of their friendship was hinging on his answer. He took in her red eyes and the way her hands were kneading her skin-tight jeans. She couldn't hold his gaze any longer.
"I think," he said then. "that we have gotten over worse things."
***
Derek was holding a brush in his hand, a bucket with paint next to his feet. One of the bare walls was now almost fully covered in forest green.
There were specks of colour on his shirt, on his jeans and even on his forehead.
He gestured with the brush toward his project.
"I think you were right. I need to finish my bedroom slash single apartment. I put it off long enough."
Stiles felt a bout of warmth travel up from his fingers to his chest. He had recommended the colour green to Derek offhandedly one time. It seemed that he hadn't forgotten.
He walked over to the older man, keeping his eyes on the paint job. Derek had chosen a very nice shade. He was tempted to touch the freshly painted wall.
Derek bent down and roamed around in his tool chest until he found what he was looking for. He held up a second brush to Stiles. It was unused.
Stiles knew that Derek always needed mindless tasks when he was restless. On his bad days, he would walk around the house and look for things to fix or he'd chop wood or operate on his car. For him to start a task he had put off for so long must mean that he was very concerned.
In the background, music was softly playing from Stiles' Bluetooth speakers he had once brought up with him and never taken back. It was a classic rock song Stiles didn't know the name to. Something nostalgic. Something that reminded them both of easier times.
Instead of taking the brush, Stiles walked closer and wrapped his arms around the other's waist. His face was pressed to a firm chest.
Like a reflex, one of Derek's hands cupped his nape while the other was placed on his back. The brush had clattered to the floor, forgotten for now.
Stiles inhaled the comforting scent of cedarwood and paint, his heart pounding against his ribcage. How could something be both calming and exhilarating?
He looked up into Derek's eyes - greyer than ever in the dim light - and his breath hitched.
With the specks of paint on his face, his hair ruffled and his eyes so very light, the alpha looked impossibly soft. Soft and warm. Reminiscent of sleeping in on a Sunday morning.
There was a way ahead for both of them. Inevitable. For now, their paths intertwined. Maybe it was due to some of Stiles' questionable choices that he would one day face the consequences of. But for now, there was just them.
He leaned in further.
"You can say no," he murmured, stupidly, since it was quite a redundant statement. The words, as unnecessary as they may have been, were spoken almost against the other's lips.
The look of confusion on Derek's face soon cleared. The older man slowly bridged the remaining distance between them and brushed his lips so softly against Stiles' lips that it was barely considered a touch at all.
Stiles felt a shiver run down his spine. He wanted more.
Their lips pressed together more firmly, Derek's hands cupping Stiles' jaw. Everything fell into place.