monachopsis | stiles stilinski [1]

chapter five: the tell

"Hoosiers is not only the best basketball movie ever made, it's the best sports movie-" Jackson argued passionately, trying to change his extremely stubborn girlfriend's mind.

"No," Lydia said, not even looking at him,

I had to muffle my snicker at their weekly argument about what movie to watch. It always ended the same way. Every single time.

"It's got Gene Hackman and Dennis Hopper-" Jackson tried again.

"No."

"I swear to god you'll like it."

"No."

"I'm not watching The Notebook again," Jackson cried out and grew even more frustrated when Lydia rolled the window up with a smile on her face.

She was forcing me to join their movie night and I swear to god if I hear 'If you're a bird, I'm a bird' one more time, I will fling myself off a very high building.

And trust me, I'm completely aware that I'm not a bird.

"Lyds, you guys have watched The Notebook every weekend for the past month. It's the same movie, nothing is going to change. At least watch a movie that has a little action in it like," I tried to think of a movie that Lydia would like, and Jackson and I would live through. "Like, ooh! What about Mr. and Mrs. Smith?"

I saw Lydia's resolve falter a little when I said the movie name and I hid my smile, knowing that she would break, "Come on, Lydia," I sang, quickly climbing over the console and into the driver's seat, extremely thankful that Jackson was too busy to notice me do that. "It has Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt.

After another minute of me pestering her, she finally relented, "fine, whatever. As long as you shut up."

Grinning in victory, I somehow freed my long limbs from the confines of the tiny Porsche. I walked into the rental store, the proud grin still on my face, "Good news, Jacky boy! We don't have to suffer The Notebook- umph."

My sentence got cut off when Jackson pulled my back by my waist and covered my mouth with his hand to shut me up.

I quickly moved away from him, my eyebrows drawing together at his behavior. He flickered his eyes over to a shelf, indicating for me to see what was behind it.

I slowly walked, sorta crouched down, feeling the tense atmosphere. I peeked behind the shelf and closed my eyes, my body deflating with a sigh, feeling extremely defeated.

Just one day. I just wanted one normal day.

A man in his mid-20s was propped up against the shelf, a slash around his throat and his body covered in the familiar crimson liquid that I was seeing more and more off.

I opened my eyes and remembered Jackson was there.

Right. I can't be so chill with a dead body.