How To Be A Trickster (Void Stiles)

One.

Stiles.

It was nightfall. Thunder sounded and lightning struck above, contributing to the chaotic grey sky. I leaned my lanky body against the side of my loyal jeep while Scott had perched himself on the light blue hood, legs trailing over the front of the vehicle. The headlights were on, illuminating rocks that occupied the cliff edge.

We gazed over the irradiated town, discussing what we wished to do with our lives following senior year graduation - where we'll live, which colleges we'll attend, and so forth.

Holding a red marker, my hand hovered over a map of colleges around the area as I read out names of possible places, marking them as Scott and I progressed through the seemingly endless chart of destinations. I made some more suggestions, though Scott wasn't listening very attentively. His mind was distracted, focused on something else.

Scott looked up at the dark sky, worry plastering his face. I looked at the feature of Scott's eyes then turned my glance back to him.

"You alright? You starting to feel it?" I asked worriedly, referring to the full moon. He shook his head. It was a stupid question. I knew the full moon no longer affected him the way it once did.

"No, just thinking," Scott said, directing his line of sight towards me.

I set the marker down on the bonnet. "'Bout what?" I curiously questioned.

"Senior year."

"Senior year? C'mon, that's...that's nothin', that's gonna be easy," I assured, attempting to relieve my good friend of his sudden urge to stress. His deep sigh that followed informed me that my attempt was most likely unsuccessful.

"It's more like something Deaton told me once." He paused for a second before continuing. "Have you ever heard of regression to the mean?"

"No, I don't think so." Honestly, the answer didn't require any thinking. I was positive that I had never heard of such a term.

"It's basically his way of saying that...life can't ever be all bad or all good," he stated, "you know, eventually things have to come back to the middle. So I've been thinking about the last few months. Things have been good, right? Uh, amazing."

"Yeah, but no one's tried to kill us in six months either," I retorted, feeling a wave of relief in my mind at the thought. It had been quite silent for a while.

"Right, been pretty much in the middle for a while, which means at some point the scale has to tip one way or the other." He sighed then directed his gaze back to the dark night sky. "Things will either get really good again."

I predicted his next words. "Or really bad," I finished the sentence.

A sequence of lightning bolts flashed, revealing the ambling clouds.

Scott glanced at his phone. "It's nearly time." He slid off the hood and walked towards the passenger side of my jeep.

"We should probably get going," Scott proposed, opening the passenger door and climbing onto the seat.

At Scott's request, I turned around to walk to the other side of the vehicle, until I heard something and froze on the spot, putting my average human ears to work. The sound was eerily familiar, causing this scenario to feel like déjà vu, though I couldn't quite place it. I'm certain that it was a voice though - quite a deep one - but I didn't know what was being spoken, or if it was even in English. I decided to ignore it though, thinking about the first day of senior year tomorrow. I continued to make my way towards my car, hopping in and shutting the door.

"Everything okay bro?" Scott asked, glancing at me with a curious expression.

"Yeah, everything's fine," I said in a persuasive tone.