[ the first breath she takes stings. it hits hard in her chest like a hammer against a bell, and if she were at all concerned about her own health, she would have considered it a discomfort. as it stands now, she follows stiles' suit on the matter. she takes another deep breath and keeps walking, because the sting of the cold and the slow seeping of the air through her jacket (she should have brought a scarf) with the promise that she won't last very long, or shouldn't last very long, reminds her that at least she's here to feel it. a morbid thought, considering all they're doing is walking in the dark through a path already cut for them by other feet, but she has it. wonders if she had died during that event, if she'd be having this same moment. the same idea.
allison has been so used to wearing her emotions on her sleeves, to expressing herself, freely, confidently, that when she's faced with emotions that shouldn't - fear, loss, guilt, anger, desperation - she struggles to keep them down. last semester, after losing her mother, she'd snapped at the sudden need to put it all somewhere, and gerard had given her a place. when she went to france, with her father, it was about resituating it all. by finding a way to wake up in the morning and not have her mother's figure hovering over her, not having erica's screaming face. it was about compartmentalizing and taking that next step, and when she came back, she had actually thought it'd be over.
but then there was the darach. the alphas. allison clung to her friends because it was the only semblance of normality she had left, and yet it was the driving force behind the uprooting of her life.
she made her decision. no matter what, she would stick by them. protect them. do what she could, when she needed to, and move on from there.
the jealousy pipes back up again when she thinks about stiles, along with worry, with sympathy. she knows about stiles' mom in the briefest of ways, a comment scott had told her before, but nothing more. she realizes how close that makes them, now, more than just their state of being. their humanity. stiles knows what she went through, but didn't lose himself like she had. wasn't still picking up the pieces, like she was. it makes her want to know how, know why, to know if somewhere in there he's hurting as much as she always seems to. always.
but that's also stepping over a boundary that she's sure, sure, he wouldn't appreciate. not now, maybe not ever, because they could have text conversations about his love life and zombie information sessions over the network but stiles was scott's best friend, and allison had no right to invade that.
she can walk in this easy silence and she won't ask anything more, and she hopes that's all he wants. all he needs for now.
somewhere along the way her hands find her pockets, and her arms press close to her chest. it's cold, but not that cold. not cold enough. maybe if they stay out long enough, some of it will numb. some of something. some of anything. maybe, if they walk far enough, it'll be too dark to tell the difference between inside her chest and out in the sky. stiles switches between looking ahead of them and looking up, but allison's eyes stay to the path. the slight slouch to her shoulders, down-turn of her neck. it's the same stance she's had since they came back - too worried not to watch where she's going, but scared of what she'll find it she looks up - and out here in the dark it's the still the same.
when stiles talks, it's just as natural as the silence. she listens to him talk just as easily as she's been listening to the silence, and maybe it's that comfort, the fact that it's out here in the dark, walking with someone who she doesn't feel like she has to hide anything from, if only in this moment, that spurs her to answer at all.
allison stops in the path they've been walking down, without much warning at all. she stops, and she stands there for a moment, her eyes still down to the ground.
like if i go to sleep finally, then i'll wake up at home in my bed in beacon hills ]
I don't want to go home. [ she surprises herself a little when she speaks, tensing like she expects some kind of answer, some kind of reaction. the silence hangs for a moment or two before she looks back up, to where stiles has probably noticed she's stopped. to where stiles is probably looking back at her. ] I don't- [ that's when her voice cracks, and her eyes are back on the ground. a moment to breathe, before she speaks up again, her voice much smaller than before. ] The darach, our parents. I don't think I can do it.
[ you can't even save them here, what makes you think you can save anyone there? ]
no subject
allison has been so used to wearing her emotions on her sleeves, to expressing herself, freely, confidently, that when she's faced with emotions that shouldn't - fear, loss, guilt, anger, desperation - she struggles to keep them down. last semester, after losing her mother, she'd snapped at the sudden need to put it all somewhere, and gerard had given her a place. when she went to france, with her father, it was about resituating it all. by finding a way to wake up in the morning and not have her mother's figure hovering over her, not having erica's screaming face. it was about compartmentalizing and taking that next step, and when she came back, she had actually thought it'd be over.
but then there was the darach. the alphas. allison clung to her friends because it was the only semblance of normality she had left, and yet it was the driving force behind the uprooting of her life.
she made her decision. no matter what, she would stick by them. protect them. do what she could, when she needed to, and move on from there.
the jealousy pipes back up again when she thinks about stiles, along with worry, with sympathy. she knows about stiles' mom in the briefest of ways, a comment scott had told her before, but nothing more. she realizes how close that makes them, now, more than just their state of being. their humanity. stiles knows what she went through, but didn't lose himself like she had. wasn't still picking up the pieces, like she was. it makes her want to know how, know why, to know if somewhere in there he's hurting as much as she always seems to. always.
but that's also stepping over a boundary that she's sure, sure, he wouldn't appreciate. not now, maybe not ever, because they could have text conversations about his love life and zombie information sessions over the network but stiles was scott's best friend, and allison had no right to invade that.
she can walk in this easy silence and she won't ask anything more, and she hopes that's all he wants. all he needs for now.
somewhere along the way her hands find her pockets, and her arms press close to her chest. it's cold, but not that cold. not cold enough. maybe if they stay out long enough, some of it will numb. some of something. some of anything. maybe, if they walk far enough, it'll be too dark to tell the difference between inside her chest and out in the sky. stiles switches between looking ahead of them and looking up, but allison's eyes stay to the path. the slight slouch to her shoulders, down-turn of her neck. it's the same stance she's had since they came back - too worried not to watch where she's going, but scared of what she'll find it she looks up - and out here in the dark it's the still the same.
when stiles talks, it's just as natural as the silence. she listens to him talk just as easily as she's been listening to the silence, and maybe it's that comfort, the fact that it's out here in the dark, walking with someone who she doesn't feel like she has to hide anything from, if only in this moment, that spurs her to answer at all.
allison stops in the path they've been walking down, without much warning at all. she stops, and she stands there for a moment, her eyes still down to the ground.
like if i go to sleep finally, then i'll wake up at home in my bed in beacon hills ]
I don't want to go home. [ she surprises herself a little when she speaks, tensing like she expects some kind of answer, some kind of reaction. the silence hangs for a moment or two before she looks back up, to where stiles has probably noticed she's stopped. to where stiles is probably looking back at her. ] I don't- [ that's when her voice cracks, and her eyes are back on the ground. a moment to breathe, before she speaks up again, her voice much smaller than before. ] The darach, our parents. I don't think I can do it.
[ you can't even save them here, what makes you think you can save anyone there? ]