Teen Wolf Imagines

This town- Scoot McCall

"I know, I'll be back soon." Tiredness was practically dripping from your tone as you spoke into the receiver.
"Okay." Your mom sounded just as exhausted as you. "I'll leave some food out for you." You were somewhat upset that she wasn't planning on staying up to see you, it had been a while since your busy schedules had allowed you any time together.
"Thanks." You told her quietly, hanging up and carelessly chucking your phone onto the car seat beside you. At the moment, you were sat in your stationary car in the parking lot of some run down convenience store.
As you rested your heavy head upon the steering wheel you contemplated whether or not you really even wanted to go home. If you went straight home now you would end up going straight to sleep, only to wake up and start all over again tomorrow. You felt as though you were uselessly stuck in a cycle of pointless difficulty.
Life was... tough, to say the very least. Things had spiraled out of control recently; with money worries taking over both your's and your mother's every thought, nothing else ever seemed to matter. School had been put majorly on the back-burner, none of your assignments had been finished in an extremely long time and almost all of your teachers were really starting to get at you about your attendance.
It certainly didn't help that your friends all seemed to attract every morsel of danger and difficulty to themselves and that you felt an intense responsibility to help them out with everything.
Over the last year you had become hopelessly melancholy in your every distant thought. Wistfully remembering times when you had been carefree; staying up stupidly late and getting takeout with Scott when Stiles was off busy somewhere, staying behind at school to watch Scott and Stiles at lacrosse and then getting picked up late by your grinning father.
No, you couldn't think about that. That part of your life was over now, that part of your life had been replaced with something a little more morose. Your friends had too much to worry about nowadays to even think of recreating some of those happier times and your father was... well he was gone.
Hesitating with your key in the ignition, you glanced around solemnly, unseeing. What really was the point of going home? You knew that your mother wouldn't notice if you came home just a little later than you had first anticipated and you really didn't want to continue on in this dreadful, unchanging and endlessly exhausting, routine.
Making your decision swiftly, exiting your car before you could regret the choice, you walked over to the convenience store.
A light was flickering inside, as though to further attest to the lateness of the hour, while the quietly cheerful music that sang through the speakers served as the perfect contradiction to your black mood.
The cashier, it seemed, had barely noticed you walk in. It looked as though he were a little busy watching the small television he had set up before him. Biting your lip and glancing from him to the shelving at the back of the store, you quickly decided your plan would probably work. Not caring enough to give it much more thought, you moved to the back of the store.
For such a small store their selection was quite large but, as you were fairly inexperienced, the size of the choice meant nothing at all. Picking up a particularly familiar bottle, with curved and crisp glass edges, you thought back to where you had seen it before.
Your father had liked this one; telling you once, during one of your parent's insufferable house parties, that while ordinary people may prefer something a little smoother, it was worth learning to appreciate the burn. The memory dissolved like smoke in the air as you swiftly turned and made your way back to the cashier.
Barely a glance was spared to your face and his thoughts clearly didn't wonder over your age, as he allowed you to buy the whisky. You felt the slightest pang of guilt as you handed over the money, you were supposed to be pinching pennies merely to survive, but you let aggravation and anger usher the feeling away. If your mother was really so concerned over money, she would get back to work.
You knew that she needed time to grieve, but your sympathy was limited with her as she didn't seem to understand that you were in mourning as well. Everything just seemed perpetually unfair.
Deciding not to re-enter your car, no matter how warm and alluring the prospect was, you took a few measured steps into the surrounding woods. As far as you knew it wasn't a full moon, you guessed that you would be safe enough tonight.
Finding a twisted and rounded tree stump to rest upon, you slowly twisted the bottle cap and sniffed at the dark and sloshing liquid. Wincing immediately at the sharp smell, you took a deep breath and desperately tried not tor rethink your choices.
Resolving yourself, you took a sharp swig. Immediately, you coughed and spluttered - barely managing to swallow the bitter liquid. Now you understood what your father had meant about the burn. Taking another swig, making sure to swallow the liquid a little more quickly - ensuring you weren't subjected to the taste for so long- you merely felt a warm trickle in your throat.
Taking stock of your body for a moment, expecting to feel something akin to a tingling in your fingertips - indicating that the alcohol was having some sort of effect -, your ears pricked at the sound of rustling leaves and cracking twigs.
Wishing you could blame it on the wind, but knowing that doing so would be extremely irresponsible given the town you lived in, you quickly stood from your makeshift seating.
A large, shadowed shape was all your darting eyes managed to catch before you found yourself thrown heavily backwards. Strangely, you didn't feel the immediate need to struggle and panic over getting to your feet. - you lay there, dejected on the floor. blindly staring up at the clouded sky.
It looked like it might rain... Pondering for only a moment why this odd thought had just occurred to you, you slowly realized that you had not been attacked by the seemingly invisible force.
Just a moment later, a hand gripped your arm tightly, almost painfully. You allowed yourself to be pulled forcefully upward, to become entirely pliable to whoever or whatever was currently manhandling you.
As you were brought face to face with someone, your lethargic and hazy brain took a confusing length of time to recognize the aggravated face before you.
Scott soon brought another, gentler, hand up to grip your other arm, his mask of aggravation slipping into one of apparent concern.
"Are you alright?" His question was somewhat hurried as his eyes looked you over to check for injury.
Confusion overtook your features as you attempted to piece together what had just happened. "What..." you started, looking around in uncertainty, "what happened?"
The concern on his features almost doubled, due to both the question and the dazed tone in which you spoke. "I... uh ran into you." Distraction was clear in his voice as he focused more on your well-being than answering your question.
After a brief glance at the surrounding area, sniffing the air briefly, Scott allowed his eyes to fall back to you. "Is that... whisky?"
You rapidly dropped your eyes from his, knowing that disappointment would be as clear as day on his features; this wasn't exactly the first time Scott had 'come to your rescue' after your own actions had led you to a less than pleasant situation.
At least this time you weren't being attacked by some mythical creature.
"I-um," you were halfheartedly fumbling for an excuse, not really having the energy to come up with anything believable. "Yes." You eventually sighed, shoulders drooping in defeat.
Minutely his hands tightened on your arms. His warm brown eyes were scanning your features, as though he were searching for some hidden secret upon the contours of your face.
Eventually, he huffed and dropped his hands from you. Strangely, the lack of contact left you feeling somewhat empty, as though there was simply nothing left within.
Daring to glance up to him once more, you cringed. Scott was clearly deep in thought, chewing on the inside of his lip, as he stared unseeingly into the murky woods.
When he eventually looked back at you, you mentally prepared yourself for a conversation full of disapproval and perhaps even aggravation on Scott's part. "What are you doing?" He asked you, clearly referring to more than just your recent actions.
Wrapping your arms around yourself, you looked down to your shifting feet. "I'm sorry." You told him, voice far quieter than you had intended.
He shook his head in response, a dry and derisive laugh coming from him. "You always say that! And nothing ever fucking changes!" His sudden anger and volume were unsurprising, but his tone caused you too flinch regardless.
You couldn't exactly disapprove of his response to your apology - you had lost count of the number of awkward 'sorry's you had muttered to him. You didn't even bother replying, knowing there was nothing you could say to defend yourself - he was entirely right.
"Look," he started, approaching you slowly and quietly, "I know, things aren't like they used to be." You could't stop yourself from snorting in derision, that was surely the understatement of the century.
Ignoring your response, Scott soldiered on. "I know you want things to go back to the way they were," he told you, voice far softer than it had been previously, "but... that's not gonna happen." His lack of eloquence would have been sweet if his words hadn't have been emotional blows.
In a big sense, Scott was right. You had spent far too long stuck in your denial and there had been far too many occasions where recklessness had entirely taken over your behaviour. You were lucky, so far Scott had always been there to bail you out of your messes but you could tell he was starting to get more than a little aggravated with you; this wasn't even the first argument the two of you had shared over your behaviour, it was merely one of many angered spats.
The only saving grace was that his aggravation was a sign that he did still care about you. You hadn't been entirely forgotten in the haze of werewolves and alphas.
Resolving yourself to try a little harder, to cope a little better, you attempted a firm nod. Your nod was more of an awkward jerking movement but Scott didn't seem to notice anything at all, he was too intently staring at the trees.
A whoosh of air escaped him quickly, as he set his shoulders and stared back at you. "Beacon Hills is... it's dangerous." The words hung in the air between you, confusion and nerves boiling over as you tried to guess at where the conversation was headed. Nowhere good, you guessed.
"This town," he started, "it's only gonna get worse... maybe... you should get outta here."
You recoiled almost instantly from him, unconsciously stumbling backwards as though you had been struck, while your eyebrows crinkled in confusion and abject hurt. "What?" You asked, voice suddenly too hoarse to say much else.
He took a small step towards you then, clearly sensing your hurt. "It's just-"
"You want me to leave?" You couldn't believe it, Scott was telling you to leave town - to leave forever. You knew you may have become a burden on his already heavy shoulders, but you never thought he would ask you to leave his life so completely.
His eyes quickly scanned your crumpled features before he took yet another small step forwards, so that your clothes were just brushing against each-other's.
"No, no it's not that." His voice was strong and forceful, as though he were affronted that you would even assume that. "I don't want you to go anywhere. It's..."
In a severely comforting action that surprised you, Scott brought his hands up to cup your cheeks and dropped his voice low. "If I hadn't have found you out here... jeez I don't wanna think about what might have..."
Suddenly feeling intensely guilty about your behaviour, feeling as though you may cry at any moment, you tried to move away. Scott, however, wouldn't let you go.
"What I mean is..." He paused once more, clearly thinking over his words. "One of these days, I'm not gonna be the one to find you first, I'm not gonna be there to bail you out and you're gonna get hurt. I can't... I can't let that happen but it will if you stay here, acting the way you are."
Sniffing, having only just noticed the tears that had sprung from your eyes, you nodded. "I'm sorry Scott." Your mumbled words were pitiful but you hardly cared.
The way Scott's features immediately pulled up into skepticism pained you greatly. "I mean it. I- just... God everything's just gotten so fucked lately... I just- I can't..."
Hearing breathless emotion overtaking your tone, Scott cut you off. "I know." Scott tugged you forward, bringing his arms around you entirely. "I know," he repeated more softly as your head almost automatically nestled into his neck. Your hands desperately grabbed at the front of his shirt - it felt oddly as though if you didn't latch yourself to him, you would fall away entirely.
It felt strange, letting go of your guarded emotions after so long, and you were certain that Scott's shirt would soon be soaked with tears but he showed no complaint as he stood with you - a soothing hand stroking your ratty hair.
Neither of you seemed to care for keeping track of how long you stayed there, wrapped up in each-other somewhere in the woods, but it somehow still seemed like too soon when you pulled away.
Your body didn't stray far from his as you stared up at him, not wanting to break the silence but fighting to find words regardless, you loosened your tight grip on his shirt. "Thanks Scott." You told him, almost shyly. "I'm.. I really am sorry."
"Just... just call me next time you're thinking of doing something ridiculously stupid?" There was the slightest smattering of humor within his voice but you could tell that he was at least somewhat serious. "I don't care about all the other crap in this town, I'll drop it all if you need me to."
Suddenly struck by his sincerity, alongside the magnitude of his words, you felt your throat tighten as you held back tears once more. "Yeah." You agreed with a voice like sandpaper.
The prospect of you leaving town hung somewhat awkwardly in the air between you, but neither of you addressed it. You weren't leaving, and that was final.
As though he had suddenly come to the very same conclusion, a small and crooked smile graced his lips. Winding his hand around yours he tugged slightly and spoke; "c'mon, let's go somewhere a little less..."
"Dreary?" You finished for him.
The single word was met by a smile, a chuckle and a brief nod.