RENEGADE | "You wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody." - Big Red Machine
In which Ainsley Dunbar transfers to a new school and learns secrets about her new friends, her town, and herself.
Teen Wolf
Seasons One to Six
Stiles Stilinski x O...
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"The pretty lies, the ugly truth." ---
Trying to be halfway decent for straight up abandoning Matt at the rave, even though he kind of doesn't deserve decency after kissing me without my consent, I offered to walk home with him from the warehouse after our plan to catch the Kanima was everything but successful. Another person was killed – the concert promoter, Kara– and we have yet to discover her connection to the Kanima, but I assume she was the class of 2006 and in Mr. Harris's class.
I slow my pace as we walk up to Matt's house and grip the strap of my bag tightly as I look down at my boots.
"So, about that incredibly bad idea I had..." Matt trails off awkwardly.
Raising one of my hands, I scratch behind my ear, elaborating, "You mean, the kiss?"
Matt nods regretfully. "Yeah, that's the one," he agrees.
Sighing, I shake my head, eyes closed as I do. "You know what?" I ask, halfway between exhausted and defeated as I open my eyes and turn to look at him. "Don't worry about it."
"For real?" Matt asks, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape in shock.
I nod. "Yeah, don't worry."
"So, what-what did you mean earlier?" Matt asks and I inhale, looking to the side at the question. "When you said it wasn't the kind of thing you talked about at a rave? Is it something that you actually want to talk about?"
I shake my head, definitely not wanting to bring up all of my personal issues with the likes of Matt. I gave him the benefit of the doubt, but that's as much as I'll give him.
"Not really..." I respond slowly.
"Not really," Matt repeats with a nervous chuckle. "God, I hate not really's. You never know what to do with not really."
I shrug, because I don't know what else to tell him and I don't owe him an explanation, so instead I just say, "Would you understand if I said it was complicated?"
"Not really," Matt attempts to joke, but I don't really find it amusing. He nods, sensing my apprehension to laugh, and cuts his laugh off. "But I'll try."
I give him a nod as he turns to walk up the steps toward his house. Once he's at the front door, I close my eyes, releasing a breath. The feeling in my chest subsided, replaced by a breathlessness one only gets after they expel a loud scream from deep within their diaphragm. Opening my eyes, I plan to start walking away, but a heaviness in my bag makes me stop.
Matt's camera.
I know I shouldn't, because it's his property and he hasn't given me permission to look at it, but I'm curious to know exactly what he takes pictures of. He isn't in the yearbook club and he doesn't take pictures for the school as far as I know, yet he always has his camera around his neck. So, I reach into my bag and pull the camera out, turning it on before I navigate through the camera roll. There are standard pictures of the lacrosse team in the middle of a heated play during a game, the players lined up before a play begins, and some of the players sitting on the bench. The kick line team comes up and I raise my eyebrows, impressed, because the pictures are really good, but my face slowly drops when I notice that the focus begins to grow smaller and smaller, fully zoning in on me.
