Hold Me Closer | Stisaac (Serendipity, Book 1)

Chapter 32

The first time I laid my eyes on you
Right there and then, somehow I knew
This would be the real thing
So unexpected, so brand new
My highest hopes all coming true
I know this is the real thing
- The Wild Wind, 'Uncommon Love'

Stiles scrambled for his phone. He accidentally kicked it in the process. It slid into the living room, disappearing beneath the couch. As he dove for it, the front door swung open with the sound of splintering wood. He flailed to his feet as Chris stepped inside, immediately catching Stiles in his gaze.
"I just wanted to talk," Chris sighed as if he'd been irrevocably inconvenienced. "Did you have to make me break the damn door down?"
"You need to leave," Stiles spat. His body shook—with anger or fear, he couldn't tell. Likely both. Nauseating exhilaration coursed through his veins.
Chris chuckled. "You think you're so great now, don't you? Got a fancy little townhouse, a minimum-wage job. After all that I gave you. All that I did for you. Now look where you are. I'm just trying to talk to you."
"I don't want to talk to you. What about that do you not get? I have a restraining order. You can't be here."
Chris shrugged. "You think I care about a little piece of paper?"
"Your mommy can't keep saving your ass, Chris," Stiles said. "How far are you willing to go? You've already ruined my fucking life. Do you want to ruin yours too?"
"Ruin your life? I made your life. You think you'd be here if it weren't for me?"
"If it weren't for you, I'd be so much farther than a fancy little townhouse and a minimum-wage job."
Chris rolled his eyes. He stepped further into the living room, eyes roaming over the area with a particularly bored expression. "Haven't done much with the place, have you?" He plopped down into the armchair across from Stiles.
"What do you want?"
"I want to talk. Like I've said a hundred times. Jesus Christ. Can you listen?"
"I'm not interested in listening. I'm interested in you leaving."
"Oh, come on, Stiles. Hasn't this gone far enough? You had your break and got all of your little issues out of your system...Just come home with me, and we can forget all about it."
"The police are on their way. If you're gone before they get here, I'll tell them I was mistaken."
Chris smiled. "I know when you're lying." He scooted forward to the edge of the armchair. "So what's it going to take to get you over this tantrum you're having?"
"It's not a tantrum. I'm done with you, Chris. I'm not going to say it again. Get out of my house."
Chris inspected him, his silver-blue eyes roving over him like daggers slicing through his skin, to the bone. "Are you hiding something from me? What, you got a little boyfriend upstairs somewhere? Waiting for me to leave so he can fuck you, nice and sweet? We both know you like it rough."
"You know nothing about me."
Chris smacked his knees and stood. "I know everything about you." He closed the distance between them and leaned in to whisper in Stiles's ear. "I've been inside you. I know what makes you hungry." Chris ran a finger up Stiles's arm and nipped at his neck with his teeth.
Stiles trembled in disgust. He fought the urge to be sick. At his silence, Chris pulled back, eyebrows raised. "Oh. I was right, wasn't I? You've got a boy up there." He smiled in a way that made it obvious it was not from pleasure, but a terrifyingly calm anger. Stiles was used to it, but it still chilled him. Maybe I should go introduce myself."
Chris shoved past Stiles and walked toward the stairs. Toward Jennifer and Miles.
Stiles shot forward. "Stop! There's no one else here."
Slowly, Chris turned. A sneer curled his lips. "You're lying to me. Again."
Chris bolted for the stairs. Stiles somehow beat him there. He jumped in front of him and shoved him away. Chris stumbled backward into the couch. It screeched against the floor as it slid. His eyes darkened with anger. In a flash, he was on Stiles. He yanked Stiles forward by the shoulders and tossed him to the floor like he weighed no more than a feather. Stiles slammed his elbow into the floor as he went down. He scrambled onto his back and sat up.
A harsh vibration and high-pitched chirping sounded from beneath the couch. They locked eyes. Stiles dove to the side, whacking his face into the back of the couch as he shoved his arms underneath, frantically grasping for his phone. His fingers had just curled around the cold rectangle when Chris hauled him back by the ankle. Stiles attempted to finish calling 911, but Chris snatched the phone from him and stepped away. He gazed down at the screen and laughed, a high, mirthless laugh that Stiles knew all too well.
Chris threw the phone, lightning-fast. It struck Stiles in the face. Pain exploded in his cheekbone. Chris heaved Stiles to his feet by the arm and slammed him into the wall by the staircase. He wedged himself against Stiles, like the force of an ocean suppressing a rock to its tide. He crushed his forearm against Stiles's throat.
"You think you can get rid of me?" Chris growled. "You think you can live without me? I told you, baby, I fucking told you. You'll die before you leave me. Before someone else can have you. Touch you."
"I'd rather die than be with you," Stiles choked out. "And I've been touched over and over again since I left you." A splatter of saliva landed on Chris's cheek as Stiles struggled to speak. "I never knew it could feel so good."
A familiar voice called out amidst the thud of footsteps. "Jennifer? I got your message. What's—"
Stiles looked over Chris's shoulder as Isaac burst through the open front door. Time slowed to an agonizing crawl. A rush of emotions surged through Stiles at the sight of him, making his head swim. Relief, love, pain, but most of all, fear. He couldn't be here. Isaac couldn't be here.
Isaac's eyes drank in the scene before him. Stiles tried to scream for him to run, but it was too late. Chris twisted his head to face Isaac. One glance between the two of them told him all that he needed to know. Chris backhanded Stiles across the face, grabbed his head, and slammed it into the wall. Stiles crumpled to the floor. Stars fulminated behind his eyes.
    Isaac screamed out. His footsteps came closer. Stiles blinked away the pain and white light. He struggled to his knees. Chris and Isaac collided. Isaac punched Chris in the face, once, twice, before Chris managed to get a blow in. He elbowed Isaac in the nose with a sickening crack. Blood gushed, covering Isaac's chin and neck.
    Stiles lunged forward and drove a fist right in between Chris's spread legs. Chris cried out and fell to his knees. Stiles scrambled away from him. Isaac was there in a flash, hauling him to his feet. One arm circled Stiles's waist as he cradled his face with his free hand.
   "Are you okay?" he gasped against Stiles's face.
    "You have to go," Stiles blurted. "Ice, you can't be here."
    "I'm not leaving you."
    Hurried footsteps pounded down the stairs. Stiles twisted around. Jennifer soared into the room. She barely glanced at the two of them before she descended on Chris.
    She decked him in the right eye and shoved him onto his back. "Don't fucking touch him!" she screamed. "The police are almost here, you piece of shit. Where are you going to run to now, huh? You gonna call your mommy to bail you out again?"
    Chris surged upward. He wrapped a hand around her throat and ripped her to the side. But he didn't care about her; his eyes had found Stiles and Isaac, pressed together. He tossed Jennifer aside and ran for them. Isaac pushed Stiles away just in time. Chris rammed into him instead. They tumbled to the floor in a tangle of limbs. He unleashed his fists, pounding into Isaac's face like the beat of a deadly drum.
    "Get the fuck off him!" Stiles screamed. He threw himself at Chris and wrestled him away.
    Chris slid out of his grip too easily, too quickly, and grabbed the back of Isaac's head. He pulled it down to meet his rising knee, over and over until Isaac fell to the floor, still.
    A sob tore out of Stiles's throat. He bolted to his feet and jumped onto Chris's back, vicing his neck with his arms. Chris twirled. Unable to shake Stiles off, he flung himself backward and into the wall. The impact shot the air out of Stiles's lungs. He hunched over and braced himself against the wall. Stiles looked up as Chris reared over him once more.
    Chris raised his hand.
    Click.
    A switchblade knife shook within his white-knuckled grip. Stiles didn't have the time to think, to run, to feel fear, as Chris lunged for him. Sharp pressure exploded in his gut, in his ribs. Once, twice, three times. Four. Hot liquid drenched him, trickled and then gushed down his stomach. A searing heat licked at his flesh, seeping into him like flames.
"No!" Jennifer screeched.
Chris broke away from Stiles as a blur of curly brown hair invaded their space. Stiles slid to the floor. Glancing down, he saw nothing but blood. Jennifer slammed a fist into Chris's throat. He choked and spluttered. The knife thudded to the floor as Jennifer struck him everywhere she could reach. She was small, but fiercely angry, and her size allowed for speed and fluidity. Chris struggled to catch at her wrists and arms.
    They wrestled each other, staggering a path across the room. Chris ducked away and rose back up to backhand her. The force sent her pinwheeling backward and into the kitchen counter. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back. She grabbed the cheese grater and lashed out at Chris, resulting in a choked-out scream that told Stiles she'd made contact.
Blurry whiteness circled Stiles's vision, twirling and growing, taking him over. A drowsiness weighed down his eyelids. his limbs. He fell forward, attempting to get to Jennifer. His body just wouldn't go.
    Chris crawled on top of her. She screamed in absolute fury, and she fought, her fists flying, body bucking wildly.
"Jen...Jennif..."
Stiles's voice gave out. He reached for her as darkness pulled him to and fro. Every time it released him, he saw something new. Jennifer lying on the floor, unmoving. Chris as he darted about the room, in and out of his vision. Fragments of dishes rained down. Pillows ripped to shreds, their insides littering the floor. Blood. So much blood.
This time, the darkness took him and did not let him go.