Chapter Text
Eris
Before I even open my eyes I can feel the warm glow of the sun shining into my bedroom through the window to the left. I roll over, feeling the soft cool comforter under my arm. I look over at my clock, 5:48am.
My room is pretty small, but comfortable. To the left is a large window with semi-transparent curtains, and a bench for reading, which I don't usually do. I've never considered not having blinds, as I'm on the second story. I have a large round chair in the far left corner, with a pile of clothes on it. Another more messy pile of clothes on the floor. My oak stained dresser sits against the wall opposite of my bed, and attached to it is a long mirror, almost covered with pictures and notes. Don't even get me started with the cluttered top of the dresser, that sits about waist high.
The door into the hallway is to the right of that, in the far right corner of my room. I mostly keep that open, I like to hear what's going on downstairs. On the right wall is the entrance to my bathroom, also a mess. Then directly to the right of my bed is my closet, where I keep hardly any clothes, well, as you know they are either on that chair or on the floor. Especially since I haven't fully unpacked since I've been back. On the same wall as my headboard, to the right of my closet is a tall mirror, which faces the door into the hallway.
The rest of my senses slowly come to life. I smell coffee, and allow the aroma to raise me from my bed. After gathering not only myself, but also some clothes from the clean pile on my chair, I stumble to the bathroom. I don't notice my appearance until after I am spitting out my spicy mint mouthwash. While I may feel like an old man, I am only 18. My arms and legs are strong but slender. My hair is a wavy mess of black, and clearly due for a trim, and my ocean eyes are more icy this morning than usual. I stretch my arms out, still trying to wake my joints, and I notice my scabbing tattoo on my left forearm is starting to itch again, so I apply a generous amount of lotion to it. While I was in France this summer, I got an arrowhead with the family sigil for my sister.
The familiar smell of ground coffee wafts into the bathroom when I open the door. As I step into the hardwood hallway upstairs, one of my feet feels a cold shock, I look down. Damn. My comforter must have devoured another one of my socks. The thought is swift and passes me by just as it came, and I don't bother to either add a second sock, or remove the lonely one. It's too early. What is it, like 6 am now? I grab the wooden railing at the top of the stairs, still in a drowsy trance.
I walk downstairs to find my dad in the kitchen sipping on a steaming mug of what I could only assume is his daily dose of raw caffeine. He is facing the sink, looking out the window. He doesn't say anything, but I know he has been made aware of my presence because he sets his mug down gently on the counter next to him, and reaches into the cabinet to pull out another. I smile sleepily and somber over, rubbing whatever sleep was still in my eyes. He is already handing me my own warm mug full of awakeness as the spotting clears out of vision from rubbing my eyes too hard. His face is rough but warm, as if it has seen a world of pain, but also a world of love. I feel a wave of comfort float over me.
As I sip, and inevitably burn my impatient lips, I glance over to the fridge. On it is posted a couple sticky notes, some various magnets from places we have visited, and a picture. It's one of my favorites; one of the last taken before... well, you know the story.
I love it because we're all there, and I remember being full of so much joy in this moment. We had stayed at a cabin a couple falls ago for the weekend up near the Redwoods. My mum, my dad, my sister Allison, and me. It's just dad and I now. But we're okay. We miss mum and Allison, but we know they're not really gone. My gaze follows the streaked light coming in through the window above the sink, and I see my backpack. Shit. Reality starts flowing through me like electricity. It's my first day of senior year. Coming to this realization, I practically choke on the hot bitter liquid. It must have slipped my mind that I was still sipping it. I do that a lot.
"You sure you're ready to go back, kiddo?" I hear after dad clears his throat, he must have noticed that I dissociated for a moment. He looks at me waiting patiently for my response. He can tell I'm having a slow start to my morning.
"Yes! Yes, sorry," I laugh nervously, but then feel that same floating comfort when I look back and see him smiling back at me, in the most dad-like reassuring way you could imagine. "I mean, it's my senior year. I can't back down from a fight now, including with you if you keep calling me kiddo".
My dad's laughing and my sarcastic intentions are interrupted by a fleeting moment of anxiety. My dad walks over, quietly setting down his coffee mug on the island, simultaneously grabbing my now empty mug (how in the hell did I already finish my coffee, I must be really out of it today) and setting it down next to his. He always thinks of those things, always plans things out before doing them, even when it comes to little things. My clumsy ass would go in for his bear hug, coffee in hand, disrupting this peaceful and oddly nostalgic morning with broken glass and coffee stains.
I think he can tell I'm having a rough mental morning, because right before he let me out of his fatherly embrace, he gave me a quick tight squeeze, and then a gentle tousle of my hair. I gently remind him to shave his stubble, because he's not going to win Ms. McCall over with a porcupine on his face. He laughs, exhaling a bit more than I expected, almost as if it was a release of some kind of tension build up. I give him the nod, and start up the half-cold wooden stairs back to my room to get dressed.
...
"What?" my unfocused gaze is interrupted, and I jerk my head away from the trees flitting by at 40 miles and hour. "I said," dad looks at me curiously, and then back toward the road, "Are you looking forward to seeing your friends again?".
Over the summer dad and I were overseas. After mum and then Allison, we figured it was time for a family reunion. Alli and I went when we were in elementary school to visit dad while he was on a business trip, but I had little to no memories of that trip. I knew the reason for our visit this time around wasn't necessarily for reminiscing or rekindling the family bond. Mum was turned, Aunt Kate was missing, and Alli was dating Scott before... well you know. News travels fast when your family is a tight-knit group of hunters who have eyes and ears around the world. I did not let the family politics bring me down too much though; I still made time for Paris, the Louvre, and Notre-Dame. Oh, and my tattoo.
Unfortunately, the family drama caused the 2 months to go by in a blur, kind of like those trees I can barely see flying by out the window... oh shit, I did it again.
"Yeah, I mean... yes. I really miss Lydia. I still can't believe I didn't think to get the overseas extension plan for my phone so that I could still talk to her over the summer. It's been almost two months since I have seen or talked to her," I noticed tears starting to well, so I quickly diverted, "but then again, I am sure she busied herself with some internship doing something fantastic in a lab somewhere," I laughed, trying to hide my shaky voice.
I couldn't help but think about how awful it was missing out on spending my last summer of high school with my best friend. In our early high school days, everyone always assumed Lyds and I were dating, but they didn't realize that neither of us swung for each other's team. I continued, "and Scott, strangely I miss him a lot, it's just weird not being around him as much-" I stopped before I even finished the sentence. Realizing what I was saying, I shot my eyes over to my dad's face to see if he reacted the way my heart did to my own words. If he did, I couldn't tell. That's something else he is really good at. I skated past that statement very steadily. "He's just become so much like a brother to me throughout highschool, it was strange not to see him this summer," I try to convince myself that it saved me, but if it didn't work for me, I doubt it worked for him. He really had become like a brother to me.
He and Allison spent so much time together, despite my family's so called "rules of engagement". They mean that figuratively and literally. Blatantly speaking, Scott is a werewolf. Earlier I mentioned I come from a family of hunters, and I didn't mean deer hunters. I have been exposed to the reality of werewolves, and many other kinds of supernatural creatures since moving to Beacon Hills 3 years ago. The reality is, there is good and evil in this world, but that is not determined by whether or not someone is human. Dad's and my code is to protect those who cannot protect themselves. Our family, as realized this past summer, is definitely not supportive of our "reckless and tratorous lifestyle" as they all put it so eloquently. Allison trusted and believed in Scott, and eventually dad and I did too. Scott still is welcome in our home, and as family to dad and I, so yeah I guess there was truth to what I came up with to save my ass from tears before my first day of school.
I can tell he's desperate to move past it too, because he says something that makes me choke on absolutely nothing (no coffee this time to blame).
"What about Stiles?"
I think dad could tell he struck the wrong cord by bringing up missing Stiles over the summer, because he turned on the radio after a couple seconds of me saying "uuhhhh umm yeah?" repeatedly like a bumbling idiot. Sweet Creature was playing softly in the background. Not helping, Harry. Of course Stiles is at the top of my list of people I missed this summer. The fact that my dad, though, even thought to bring him up made me uneasy, as I haven't ever brought anything up to him about how I feel about Stiles. I don't even know how I feel, so why would he think to bring him into this conversation? Does he know something I don't? Have I not been as subtle as I thought? My mind is reeling along with the lyrics coming from the radio. I physically shake my head like I have actual words tangled in my hair. I take a deep, but quick breath to try and fly my panic under dad's radar. I am overreacting. Of course he would ask about Stiles, he is in the pack too, he's always around, and he's Scott's best friend. I am reassured by the sight of the school parking lot, and my dad's calm expression. Of course I was just overthinking.