Recondite {Malia Tate}

17: Is This What Dying Feels Like?

Charlie covered his mouth as he coughed, taking steps away from the group to try and steady his breathing. The man watched carefully at his desk as Charlie held his hand against the center of his chest, rubbing it as it ached. Charlie wiped what he thought to be spit on his dark jeans, squeezing the pump beside him to release hand sanitizer.

He turned to see Stiles leaving with Mr. Yukimura, hearing his, Kira, and Malia's names being called by a man in a yellow hazmat suit.

"We need you three to come with the rest of the class and get your blood drawn," the man ordered.

Charlie froze, "I-I can't," he sputtered.

The man rolled his eyes, "You can and you will." He said, motioning him to follow Malia and Kira, "Now, go."

Charlie whined in exasperation, following after Kira. He had a phobia of needles. It wasn't like he had a traumatic event scar him; he just couldn't stand the thought of something metal and cold piercing his skin and taking blood from his body.

Charlie also had a weak stomach when it came to blood. At least, copious amounts of blood. In his defense, blood was messy and smelled bad; there was nothing he could do about his not liking of blood, he was just born that way.

Charlie stood in a small gap beside Kira and Malia, slowly moving in the long line to the tables where the needles and the blood vials lay.

"Oh, Jesus," Charlie muttered, wiping nervous sweat from his forehead.

"Uh-Kira," Malia started, Kira turning around with an airy smile on her face.

"Do you ever get the feeling that Scott and Stiles aren't telling you everything?" Malia asked lightheartedly.

Charlie tried not to show his nervousness. Had he and the other two been caught in their lie? Did Malia know more than she let on?

"What do you mean?" Kira asked nervously.

"Like, they hide stuff," Malia said, overly perky as she spoke with a wide smile on her face.