Tether ⌲ Stiles Stilinski [2]

epilogue

"Lacrosse tryouts are tomorrow," I said. "Can you believe that? Lacrosse."

I laughed at the absurdity of it all. Life had ended ages ago, and yet the world seemed to carry on like it hadn't.

"The guys have been practising all weekend, scared of some freshmen trying their chances at joining the team and stealing their jersey numbers or something. Scott's a shoo-in, obviously, I don't know what the hell he's worried about. Isaac too. Stiles... Well, he's better. I'll give him that. He's really channelled a lot of energy into it. I feel like it's therapeutic for him in a way, I'm not sure."

"Speaking of, I finished it. The painting," my eyes caught the completed canvas leaning against my wall. It was the same project of the carnation flowers I had been working on as a future birthday present. There was a time when lifting a brush to it hurt too much to bear, but little by little I had come back to it. "I didn't think it would be possible for a while there but it's done. And I'm proud of it. Like really proud of it. Dad said I should include it in my portfolio for college applications next year. I'm looking at art schools on the West Coast. Stiles is trying to convince everyone to stay in California. I'm pretty sure he won't stop talking until we all agree to go in on a house together."

I let out another laugh and shook my head.

"Dad's growing a beard by the way. I think that he thinks it makes him look edgy, but I think it makes him look a little unkempt and more unapproachable. Which to be honest with you, might be his goal. But I won't stand for it. I'm talking to Sheriff about some kind of subtle intervention we could try, but he actually made a comment that it made him look cool! Can you believe that? They're conspiring against me, I'm sure of it. I don't know, maybe you would've been able to talk some sense into him."

I allowed silence to fill the air for a moment, letting the emptiness of the apartment sink in. Dad was out working on something, as he had slowly gotten back to his usual ways. And I was alone.

I couldn't hear her voice, really. Even when I tried desperately to, wishing there was some kind of loophole in Banshee ability that allowed me to hold an open conversation with the dead. As far as I knew, there wasn't. But that didn't stop me from acting like there was anyway.

"I don't know," I mumbled. "I feel like you're here somehow. Every step of the way. I sure hope you are anyway. It makes it easier to carry on."

By now, I understood that Allison's loss would never leave me. But I would keep going, just like she would've wanted me to. To take care of myself and the people who need me. For the rest of my years, which I was determined to live to the fullest in honour of the years that had been robbed from her, Allison would be by my side. I would walk with my grief for the rest of my life. But with Dad, with Lydia, with Stiles, I'd never have to walk alone.

My heart would learn to beat again. Differently. Off-time, maybe. But still, it was enough to keep living and to look for a new light of hope wherever I found it.

I heard a faithful sound out of my window, the earnest beeping of my favourite blue Jeep's horn.

"I've got to go. He's here." I said, heading for the door. In one final moment, I tossed a glance over my shoulder to stare at the framed photo of my sister and I propped up on my desk. Allison's memory was smiling back at me.

"I'll be back soon," I grinned softly. "And I promise I'll tell you all about it."

When I stepped outside, Stiles was leaning out of his driver's side and waving enthusiastically. I beamed. He already had music playing as I pulled myself in and he leaned over to kiss me.

Our drive to the lookout was calm, with warm breezes of early spring pouring through from the window and nothing but a blue sky above us. For a moment, I let it sink in. My eyes closed peacefully and I let the sun warm my face gently through the dashboard glass. Stiles was humming next to me, draping one of his hands over the centre console to rest gently on my thigh.

I turned to look at him and the sweet lines of his face and realized as soon as I did that I was happy. Truly happy, for the first time in months.

"What?" he asked playfully, his lips pulling into a lopsided grin. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I said. "Absolutely nothing."

I laced my fingers through his, rolled the window down further, and turned the music louder. We even started to sing along. My mind cleared until I was thinking about nothing but him and this moment.

The night had been dark for so long yet finally, there was a break of sunshine from behind the clouds. From behind his eyes. I smiled peacefully and let the light in.

Tethered to each other, we carried on and looked out at the horizon together, just like we would always do. I knew that whenever the nights grew cold again, as they always did in this town, we would hold each other. And then he would be by my side to enjoy that next break of sun.

Because there would always be another bright day. And there would always be Stiles.