❝I'm overwhelmingly human. Sorry to disappoint.❞
Luna Flores hasn't had an easy life. And after moving to Beacon Hills, it isn't about to get any easier.
Forced to uproot her family's life in Arizona, Luna hopes to find respite in the unknown, quie...
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THERE WAS A bitter taste in Luna's mouth, and it's wasn't from the alcohol.
On the contrary, she didn't drink. Drinking meant surrendering control, losing inhibitions, and being acutely unaware to one's surroundings. That was the last thing she needed, or wanted, and besides, antidepressants and alcohol did not mix. Unless she wanted to be passed out on the ground for anyone to do whatever they wanted with.
Absolutely not.
She and Stiles had separated a few minutes ago — which she had cursed herself for in her head and cursed him for out loud.
Every horror movie idiot with an ego the size of Jupiter would loudly proclaim that they should split up and it would end with many, many deaths. She pointed this out to Stiles at the time, but seeing as they weren't covering many bases together, maybe being apart, but still remaining on Lydia's property, would do them some good. Hopefully, at least.
"How did you lose him?" Stiles had hissed in her ear five minutes ago.
The two of them had been scrambling around Lydia Martin's gigantic house, Luna in front with Stiles right behind her, going inside and trying to search through almost every room they could.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Stiles," Luna replied sarcastically, flipping her head towards him once they closed the door to an empty bathroom, seeing still no sign of Scott. "Almost every teenage boy here looks exactly the same and has the exact same haircut, I'm sorry I couldn't keep a log on your best friend."
"Well, I'm not sure I'm going to have a best friend anymore if we're too late and we stumble into Allison's bloody remains," He had shot back, loosening his shirt collar, following her around nonetheless.
Now, Luna sighed and rubbed her hands over her face, her digits cool from the breeze that had been blowing. She trekked past a couple making out, keys tucked into her fist and in between each and every finger as a makeshift weapon as she walked further out onto the lawn. She was moving further away from the party, but not completely out of sight, near the edges of the backyard, pressed up against the maintained hedges and fences. Being alone definitely cleared her head, even though the faint music from the loud stereo pulsed throughout her ear drums, leaving them ringing. Her and Lydia had very different music taste — she could say that much.
Finding nothing but recycling bins and trash cans full of fertilizer, Luna paused, taking in a deep breath. The cold air felt good in her lungs, after being stuck in the permeating body heat of what felt like an entire student body, but she was still wracking her brain over how her and Stiles had lost sight of Scott and Allison. Of course, maybe it had happened when her and Stiles let loose slightly, Stiles convincing her to dance with him even though he was incredibly bad at it, way worse than she could have ever possibly anticipated. And maybe — again just maybe — she was actually having fun and even enjoying herself, blushing a disgusting amount of times whenever Stiles's head came forward in order to hear what she was saying more clearly through the noises of the party, that she had gotten the teeniest, tiniest bit distracted.
