How Will I Know? {Stiles + Malia}

Chapter Eight.

~Two Months Later~

"Would you hurry up already, Malia? We're going to be late for the Christmas party." Stiles said from the living room slightly angry. I was trying, I only wanted to look my best for him. He had been in a bad mood for most of the day. "It's bad enough you're making me go to this thing, so please, I'm begging you, hurry up so we can get it over with."

I looked in the mirror and sighed with a deep breath. The tight black dress I picked out hugged my body perfectly and my favorite black heels pulled it up further to the middle of my thigh. My hair had taken me 45 minutes, and it was almost perfectly curled with a small black, lace bow on the side to match my dress.

I walked out of my room to Stiles. He was dressed in his party clothes. His hair tossled perfectly. Clean shaved and handsome as ever. I smiled at him slightly, hoping he'd tell me how I looked, but he didn't. He smiled back with aggravation. "You look great," I told him to break the tension. He nodded and muttered something, I think it was 'Thanks.'

He started ahead of me out the door, without saying another word. He got in the car and I followed. I wasn't ready for the 20 minute drive to the party with him. He was being unfair, but I didn't dare say something first.

"I can't believe you're dragging me to this thing." Stiles groaned, midways into the drive. I almost couldn't hold back a sigh.

"You didn't have to come. I just thought it'd be fun for us." I said defensively. He rolled his eyes.

"You thought it'd be fun for me to be around our classmates, some being my old friends? After I was humiliated in front of them all because they found out about my past? Did you even consider how hard this is for me?"

"You shouldn't have hidden your past from them anyway. You were HIDING, Stiles. Being someone you're not, someone who isn't you. Not to mention, the guy you pretended to be completely ignored me when I showed up here. Why would you have wanted to continue to be him? I thought you were happier, I thought you didn't care what anyone thought anymore. I guess I was wrong." Tears started to form in my eyes, but I couldn't cry right now, not in front of him.

"No, Malia. That's you, you're happier. And it's obvious with that slut-like outfit you're wearing tonight, you're the one who doesn't care what people think of you. Are you trying to impress someone or something?" That pushed me over the edge, two tears fell down my cheeks without my permission.

"I can't believe you just said that to me." I said, hurt. I smiled in pain and shook my head. "You're an idiot, you know that? All day today I've been trying to think about nothing but you. I just wanted to impress you, show off for you. Which maybe I shouldn't have done, it's not like I'm even close to beautiful anyway. Let's face it, Stiles. If we hadn't have broken down and met in a mental hospital, we wouldn't be together. You wouldn't have noticed me. You would have been just like you were when I showed up here and I'd be the girl you'd never notice. We would have never crossed paths in the real world outside the walls of Graceland. Our whole relationship was built on a breaking foundation, so maybe it's time to stop trying to build something that will always be broken."

The car had come to a stop at the party, so I pulled myself out of my seat and slammed the door. I didn't even feel like being here anymore, but I was stuck now. There was no way I was going home with him now.

I walked into the house slowly, makeup smudged around my eyes. People were jumping, spilling drinks, and dancing crazily, having a great time. It looked like fun, but all I could focus on was the aching pain in my chest. The pain of loss, heartbreak.

I drug myself to the counter with drinks on it, reeking of the smell of beer and straight vodka. There were 10 bottles of vodka, different colors, I assumed by skittles. Surely they wouldn't notice if one was missing.

I grazed my hand over the green bottle, forgetting for a split second why I wanted it so badly. It wouldn't help me.. or would it? The pain, it has to stop. I couldn't take it. I picked up the half empty bottle and held it up eye level.

I hadn't taken a drink in almost three years. I knew it'd be tempting when I came tonight, I knew that I'd probably drink. But, I knew, or at least thought, that Stiles would be with me. Now, being alone, it was so much easier to lose control.

I nodded my head and raised the bottle before bringing it to my lips and taking a self-served shot. I pulled it back and smiled. The soft burn of alcohol soothed me, made me feel alive again. I needed more. I took another swig, and then another, and another.

I stumbled to an empty room and sat beside the bed and chuckled a bit. I no longer felt the burn, it felt like water rushing down my throat. "Mm," I groaned. "How I've missed this." If I were sober, I would have realized how untrue that was.

I had about three more swallows left in the bottle when someone walked in. He walked closer to me and smiled slightly, sticking out his hand to me. "Come on, deary. You should lay down, let me help you." His voice sounded familiar, but I didn't pay attention much.

I took the strangers hand and he helped me to my feet. He guided me to lay on the bed and sat beside me after covering me with a blanket. "Goodnight, beautiful." He said in a sweet voice. He started to get up, but I wanted him to stay, and I didn't know why.

"Please stay with me." I pleaded with sad eyes. He nodded and sat again beside me. He smiled and I smiled back, but then our faces went blank. It seemed as if we were thinking the same thing, our eyes keeping contact.

I pulled myself up as he leaned down and our lips collided. "Lay with me." I said as I kissed him. I pulled him down, and that was only the beginning of the night.