[BOOK 2] "𝙞 '𝙢 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙖𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙡𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙩𝙝."
As Junior Year begins, lies are unravelled, truths are revealed, and no one ever expects an angel to set the world on fire.
A...
▬▬▬▬ Trigger warnings: mentions of suicide and suicidal thoughts
recommended song for the chapter: unsteady by X Ambassadors
THE LEDGE
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IT was well past midnight when Stiles found himself waking up inside the mini bus.
He wasn't sure why he had, he was usually a deep sleeper. He looked around him, finding Scott on the seat next to him, fast asleep – and Allison and Lydia on the other side of the bus, asleep to.
He inspected the bench in front of him, just double checking on Aspen out of instinct—but was sent into a panicked frenzy when he found the seat vacant.
He jumped up from his seat, his head spinning around the whole mini-bus, his heartrate increasing when he didn't find Aspen anywhere.
She was gone.
After everything that had happened in their stay at this place, it was safe to say that Aspen being missing wasn't nothing. After many failed attempts to get the girl to open up to him tonight, to try and get her to stop shutting him out like she had been for days, Stiles' panic only got worse.
He swallowed a pained lump in his throat, as he grabbed his hoodie, chucking it on and getting out of the bus, not waking the other three. He hopped out of the bus in an instant, prepared to search everywhere—the bedrooms, the bathrooms, anywhere.
He made a quick scan across the motel, trying to figure out where to search first—when he caught a glimpse of something that made his heart drop to the depths of his stomach.
A figure of a brown-haired, flannel-wearing girl, standing on the end of the ledge, looking like she was about to jump.
The Stilinski boy quickly grabbed one of the lighters from the bus, and internally damned the goddamn universe—they thought she had gotten lucky tonight, that for some reason, the wolfsbane didn't affect her.
He now realised that clearly it had—he just hoped he would be quick enough running up those industrial stairs, quick enough to stop the girl he loved from giving into the toxic substance, and taking her own life.
With the lighter in his hand, his legs dashed for the staircase, running faster than he ever had before. He didn't stop, he didn't remotely slow down, he was sprinting so fast that he was surprised he didn't trip over the stairs.
The sight of Aspen like that—stood over the edge of a roof, ready to end it all—it was a sight that would haunt him forever.
Less than even a minute later, Stiles had made it to the roof. He barged down the door with all his strength, and was filled with the tiniest amount of relief that she was still in the same position he last saw her in—which was alive.
