love drunk [2] ⇻ stiles stilinski

hey angel

[ start of hey angel ]

IT HAD TAKEN them three weeks to arrange Allison's funeral; a dull, drizzly morning at the end of autumn. The rain wasn't relentless however the pitter of the raindrops seemed never ending. It was almost as if the heaven's above were opening, to allow Allison a new life up there with the likes of Aiden, Talia and other fallen family. Eleanor wasn't religious, but it was a nice thought.

As she sat in the second row, feeling Stiles' hand around her waist and Jaden's hand in her own, she tried to subside her falling tears that were a consequence of Scott's ongoing speech. He had loved her more than anything and she couldn't help but feel responsible for what had happened only a few weeks prior. Though everybody tried their hardest to reassure the young girl that she was not to blame, she could feel the coldness of their touch and the tone of voice they took with her; things had changed, and certainly not for the better.

She didn't dare look back. Eleanor could feel the eyes of everyone she knew in Beacon Hills, awaiting her to stand as Scott slipped away from the front of the ceremony and towards all of his friends, his face covered in fresh tears as he tried to wipe them away furiously with the back of his hand. His face was flushed and crestfallen, much like her own and Eleanor held back a sob as she watched the boy embrace Allison's father. The duo stood in a tight hug for what seemed like an eternity, as if they were reassuring each other that it would all be okay.

Her mind had drifted elsewhere until she felt Scott shift along the aisle, until he was beside her, rubbing her back and pulling her into a hug as he encouraged her with a small and half hearted smile to step out of the aisle and down towards the casket. Burning gazes were pierced into the black of Eleanor's jacket as she slowly rose to her feet. It was the moment she had been dreading all morning. Well, if the funeral altogether didn't count.

She stood on shaky legs, walking towards the closed casket, ignoring the light patter of rain that fell against her hair and dampened her forehead. Eleanor could barely  feel it; she felt numb. The young girl took her time, feeling everybody hold  their breath as they watched her approach the front of the ceremony, slowly and meekly turning on her heel to look at the abundance before her. Facing all the faces that would surely blame her if they had truly known what had happened, Eleanor felt the most nauseous she had ever been.

It took everything in her not to burst into tears then and there.

Closing her eyes firmly, Eleanor willed for the tears to seize, opening them again and letting them cast over the memorial canvas that Chris had picked out, stood proudly on top of the wooden oak casket. The casket that Allison laid to rest in. It was a beautiful picture of her that Eleanor could recognise had been taken from their prom night last year, before Allison unearthed the fact Scott was a werewolf. She looked so innocent and young in the photo; it seemed like forever ago.

"She forgot her pen."

There was silence in the atmosphere and nobody dared to say or move or do anything as Eleanor spoke the first word of her speech. The girl had prepared one completely different to this, but stood in front of everyone, she scrapped the whole thing and decided that a time like this was not to be succumbed to a monotonous, prepared-for speech. Something like this you could never prepare for, ever.