Violet's Return

Reunited

I'm nervous.

As I sit in my car across the street from the bar, my mind is racing.

I'm about to see Stiles, my soulmate, the father of my children, for the first time in years.

These pessimistic thoughts invade me: what if its not the same, what if he's with someone else, what if hes not happy to see me?

And there's also the vague warning the Sheriff gave about Stiles being 'different'.

I've been sitting here for ten minutes, too anxious to go inside.

I pull the sun viser down and use its mirror to practice.

"Hey Stiles, it's been a while. So, I'm not dead. And we have two healthy, wonderful children. Sorry I couldn't contact you for so long, Sofia made sure I couldn't. Oh and I killed her by the way, impaled her on a tree and left the body in the woods." I sigh and bang my head on the steering wheel.

I'm so different from the youthful, bright haired girl he fell in love with.

After a few deep breaths I look at my reflection, applying some fruity chapstick and fluffing my long hair a bit.

"You can do this." I point at myself and close the viser, finally getting out of the vehicle.

Once I'm at the door of the brick building, I take another deep breath and pull it open.

Its a simple bar, quaint and dimly lit. Its not packed full but there's plenty of people here, drinking and talking, some playing pool. The place has a very calm, relaxed vibe to it.

I take in my surroundings, looking to my left to see a young couple close in a booth. When the man spots me he stares for a moment too long and his girlfriend notices, giving him a soft smack on the shoulder.

I chuckle to myself, shaking my head. I scan the room, taking a couple of casual steps forward. I look to my right and freeze in place.

There he is.

Stiles Stilinski.

He's working behind the bar, a towel slung over the shoulder of his blue flannel.

He's pouring some guys drink, a charming smile on his face.

Happy tears gather in my eyes at the sight of him. He's even more handsome than I remember. His hair is long now and he has facial hair; the appearance of a man, no longer the teenage boy I knew.

He finishes his chat with the man and turns his back, using the towel to wipe off the counter behind him.

I blink my tears away and fan my face briefly with my hand, attempting not to be a crying mess the first time he sees me.

I approach the bar and take a deep breath before clearing my throat.

"Be with you in a sec." He's busy, back still turned as he wipes down some glasses.