Hold Me Closer | Stisaac (Serendipity, Book 1)

Chapter 2 (Revised April 2024)

Love ain't like the movies,
you can't save it with a song
It ain't one big happy ending
when you wake up and it's all gone
When no one comes to save you,
you'll learn to save yourself
The world, it just keeps going on while you're going through hell
- Taylor Acorn, 'Like The Movies'

    The floorboards creaked, waking Stiles from his sleep. Stiles sat up in bed, blinking rapidly, trying to see in the darkness. He struggled to find the lamp on his bedside table in the dark but finally did, his heart thumping madly in his chest. Seeing nothing in the bedroom, Stiles turned to Chris, who slept soundly beside him.
    He touched Chris's shoulder. "Chris, wake up. I heard something." Chris stirred but didn't open his eyes. "Chris, wake up!'
    Stiles shook Chris, and then suddenly, he was gone. Stiles scrambled out of bed, calling out for him. He went to the bedroom door and opened it, peering out into the dark hallway for a sign of him. He called his name again. There was no response.
A hand appeared in the corner of his vision and slammed the door shut, narrowly avoiding a collision with his face. Stiles stumbled back, shocked. Chris stood there now.
     "Chris, where were you? I was looking for you."
    Even in the dim light cast by the table lamp, Stiles saw the anger in Chris's face. His eyes were wide and crazed, his mouth tight. The vessel in his forehead pulsed angrily, ready to burst. That's how Stiles knew that it was time for him to swallow his words, his pride, and apologize, back down, and shut up. Chris's chest heaved, his labored breathing loud in the silence.
    "Where the hell do you think you're going?" Chris demanded.
    "What?"
    Chris gestured to the bed. Stiles looked. Now, at the foot of the bed, sat a packed suitcase. His suitcase. Stiles remembered. He turned back to Chris. "I'm leaving you."
    Like a rubber band stretched too far, Chris snapped, bolting to Stiles. He grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him violently. "You're leaving me? Is that what you think? Really?"
    "Let me go!" Stiles pushed against the other man's chest.
    Chris released Stiles and punched him in his right cheek, hard enough to send him crashing onto the bed. Stiles crawled onto the bed onto his knees, scrambling to get away, but Chris lunged for him, grabbed at his legs and waist, any part of him that he could reach.
    Stiles screamed out as he tried to pull away. Chris yanked Stiles back. Stiles frantically grasped for something, anything, to hold on to. He grabbed a pillow and smacked Chris in the face with it repeatedly while kicking out with his legs. Chris snatched the pillow and threw it to the floor. He crawled onto him, his legs on either side of Stiles's
waist. His hands traveled up Stiles's body, pulling up his shirt and rubbing his skin. Chris squeezed his neck with one hand and used the other to reach beneath him and skim under the waistband of his pajama pants. He kissed Stiles on the cheek and whispered in his ear.
     "You can't leave me. You're mine."
    "I'm not yours," Stiles choked out. He spat in Chris's face.
    Chris shot back onto his knees and back-handed Stiles with the crack of lightning. Stiles yanked his legs out from beneath Chris and threw himself off the bed, slamming into the bedside table as he crashed to the ground. The vase of wilted white roses that Chris had given Stiles after their last argument shattered to the ground beside Stiles as he scrambled to his feet. Chris pounced so quickly and with such strength that he practically flew at Stiles, his hand just barely wrapping around Stiles's neck again. Chris took him to the ground —
    Stiles woke up, drenched in sweat at the half-memory, half-nightmare. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he covered his face with his hands, trying to catch his breath. In his mind, he knew that Chris wasn't here, that it wasn't happening all over again, but his body was still pumping with adrenaline, burning from memory where Chris had hurt him the night before.
    Stiles remembered then that he hadn't gone to bed alone.
    He turned, expecting to find Isaac staring up at him with wide, confused, get-me-the-hell-out-of-here eyes. The bed was empty, the sheets and blankets a mess and the pillow dented where Isaac had been sleeping. Leaning against the pillow was a Polaroid photo. Stiles picked it up. The photo was of Isaac, a large smile on his face. Beneath the photo was a messy scribble.
    just something to remember me by. xo, Isaac.
    Stiles smiled at the photo and Isaac's tragic handwriting, remembering the night before with surprising clarity. Through the open bedroom door, a duck's quack alerted Stiles that his cell phone was ringing. Stiles stumbled out of bed and into the living room. He snatched the phone from where it lay on the floor beside the coffee table. He answered it without checking the number, and instantly regretted it.
    "Hello?"
    "Stiles, I need you. Please come get me."
Chris. "Why are you calling me?" Stiles asked, hoping that his voice wasn't as shaky as he felt.
    "Please come get me," Chris repeated, his words slurred and thick. Was he drunk?
    "Call your mother."
    "I don't need to call her, Stiles, I have you. I can't remember where I parked the car...Baby, please. I want to be home."
    "No."
    The doorbell rang. Stiles jumped. His hands tremored as he crossed to the front door and opened it.
A woman with dark brown hair and large brown eyes greeted him with a bright smile. His neighbor and friend, Jennifer, from across the street. She held a plastic-wrapped casserole that looked and smelled like tuna, Stiles's favorite. Stiles waved her inside, closing the door behind her.
"Don't call me again, Chris. I'll drop your stuff off at your mother's place."
    "Don't hang up on me," Chris said, his anger thinly veiled, breaking through his intoxicated fuzziness. When he spoke again, his voice was neutral once more. "I'm sorry, Stiles. Just come get me and we'll go out to breakfast and you can get whatever you like. What about those blueberry waffles that you love, huh? Come on, Stiles. I love you. Please let me, I'll make it up to you."
    "You say that every time, Chris," Stiles snapped. "I'm not falling for it again. Find your own way. Goodby-"
    "I said don't you fucking hang up on me!"
    Stiles hung up and quickly powered his phone down and tossed it onto the couch. Jennifer watched him as he crossed to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator to pull out two bottled waters.
Jennifer had already seated herself at the island counter when Stiles turned around, placing a bottle of water in front of her. The casserole lay on the counter beside her. They had both told each other several times that their homes were each other's, and it led to constant random food-binging sessions at two a.m. when one of them couldn't sleep, and a tendency to walk in without knocking, or using the keys they had made for each other.
Stiles opened his water and took a sip.
    "How are you doing?" Jennifer asked, eyeing him carefully. She tucked her frizzy hair behind her ear. Her eyes wandered to the two empty shot glasses and a half-empty bottle of tequila on the counter. She looked at him again, less somber now. "Ooh, were those for the cute blonde I saw sneaking out of here earlier?"
    "Were you watching my house again?"
    "Yes, of course I was. I want to make sure you're safe."
    "I haven't been in a long time."
    Jennifer looked down at the counter, trying and failing to hide the pity in her eyes. She knew he hated it, hated being looked at like that. "I know. You don't have to talk about it, but you know that I'm here if you need me, right? If you need to talk about it. If you need any help at all."
    Stiles smiled at her. "Thanks, I know. You've told me that almost every day since we moved here."
     "And it's never not been true. Look, Stiles, you're practically family to me now. I care about you. You know that? I love you." Stiles nodded. "Was this the last time?"
    Stiles nodded again. "I was packing. To leave. Chris found me, and he...He lost it. It was the worst he's ever been. I mean, he's hit me worse than that, but it...He did other things. He..." Stiles sighed. "It's over. And I think he knew that I meant it. I think that's why it was so bad."
    "It was so bad because he's a terrible person," Jennifer said. "There are no limits to what people like him can do. The longer you stay, the worse it gets, because they get used to the feeling of owning you. I'm just glad that you're leaving him, finally. I'm glad that he can't do this to you anymore. I'm sorry, Stiles. You shouldn't have had to suffer like this."
    "It's okay."
     "It's not okay," Jennifer disagreed, shaking her head angrily. Her protectiveness of him and her hatred for Chris had led to many arguments between him and Stiles, but Stiles appreciated it. No one else made him feel as loved as she did. She had gotten into the middle of their arguments countless times, always ready to throw a punch on his behalf if needed. "None of this is okay. Not him hurting you and then making you feel like it was your fault. Not him stealing your life away from you for so many years."
    "He didn't take anything that I didn't give."
    "That's not true, Stiles, and you know that. Even if you don't know it yet, you know it."
    "I'm not saying that it's my fault...I think I know that it's not. But I did stay, even after I knew what he was. Even after I realized that I didn't love him anymore. That he'd never loved me."
    "Because you were afraid. And it's complicated. It's not your fault. And besides, look at you, you're leaving. You've left. You're free."
    Stiles shook his head. "I'm not free yet. But I will be."
    "What are you going to do?"
    "I'm not sure. Something, I guess."
    "I still have those articles bookmarked about restraining orders. What about that?"
    Stiles shrugged. "It'll make him angry."
    "How he feels doesn't matter," Jennifer said. "He should get what he deserves. And he's going to, even if you decide not to do anything. Karma will get his ass if one of us doesn't..."
    "I don't know what to do. I don't have...I don't have time."
    "You can get a restraining order in a few hours. If he even comes near you, he'll be arrested again. And you know I'll be watching. He won't lay a hand on you, Stiles. Never again. You can stay with us if you need to," Jennifer offered, resting her hand on Stiles's forearm comfortingly. "For as long as you need, until you decide what you'd like to do. But I think you should press charges and get the bastard incarcerated."
    "Thank you. That's sweet, but I think I'll be okay. I don't want him to drive me out of my own house. I never got the chance to make it a home, but I want to. I'm done hiding, I'm done...I'm done letting myself be hurt. I want to fight for myself now. I should have done it a long time ago."
    "Well, I think you can now." Jennifer smiled at him, and in her eyes, Stiles saw no more pity, only love and excitement. Excitement for him, excitement for his freedom. But inside, Stiles knew that he wasn't free. He still wasn't sure if he ever would be.

Oh, when the lights come on and the rug is pulled
Wish it was exposed before the curtains closed
But it's not and it hurts, 'cause it's real
- Taylor Acorn, 'Like The Movies'

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Please leave any feedback that you have while reading! Thank you all for reading, commenting and voting :) Visit the story on AO3! My username there is @/burningahighwaytohades.

Find the soundtrack of songs that inspired, or coincide with, this work on Apple Music and YouTube.

Hold Me Closer, a Stisaac fan-fiction by iceandtanqueray: the soundtrack: https://music.apple.com/us/playlist/hold-me-closer-a-stisaac-fan-fiction-by/pl.u-55DPpLVh8kg86BW