News flash: hidden giggles and piercing lies

The drumming doesn’t stop. It doesn’t grow any louder though, but the beat seems steadier now, more focused. Right now however she can’t really focus on the how’s and whys of the thing. She has been carrying a very drunk girl for the past half an hour; shoulder aching and arms going progressively more numb by the minute, all while asking every single that happens to pass by them if perhaps they recognize the fool. And on top of all that, almost out of some sort of karmic spite, the universe also has deemed it fair to send her company. Company that seems entirely too keen on keeping a suspiciously comfortable silence, and who also happens to be the very target she is supposed to be covertly investigating. To say that tonight has been strange would be an understatement.

At least they managed to get a room number out of the moron. Fifty-three, double digit, of the VIP variety.

“So …” Derek says after perhaps ten minutes without any sort of exchange, and she wonders if perhaps the mind-numbing silence isn’t beginning to sway on him as well. “You’re Lydia’s friend.” He says, shouldering a bit more of the girls deadweights as they round a corner.

“Uhum.” She answers back absentmindedly while her eyes scan the passing room numbers. They’re at sixty- four now and descending. “Brilliant observation there captain obvious.” she doesn’t actually mean to snark back, but by this point sarcasm has been layers so deeply and thoroughly into her personality that the reply is bordering on automatic. Derek just snorts, perhaps in surprise perhaps in amusement and Anne just raises a brow at him over the girls lolling head. “Was there any point to that statement, or did you just feel like using it as an opener?”

“An opener, mostly.” He admits “I was just trying to approach the my actual question more politely.”

“Question.” She parrots, and then turns to look him over “Shoot.” She shrugs.


“Just like that ?”

“Just like that.” She nods back, rounding a right corner and smiling dumbly at the change of room numbers. “Whatever it is you feel you should ask, please feel free in doing so Miter Hale.” Derek frowns, brows doing their own version of sing language communication, and Anne narrows her eyes at them. She thinks for a moment that if they were any closer she would tell him that his eyebrows annoy her on principle. The very idea that the only thing keeping her from being so fucking honest with him is the fact that they are still technically strangers kind of scares her.

“You don’t seem Lydia’s type.” He says and Anne snorts.

“I’m everyone’s type.” She says before thinking better of it, and chuckles darkly at the validity of that statement. It’s a curse, mostly; and she has found ways of living with it over the years. Her personality, her way of being, it tends to make people be very easily infatuated with her . But it’s always just that. People never really get attached, but they lie to themselves long enough to believe it, some are adamant about it – but then, little by little every single one of them gets progressively more bored of this magnetism as time goes by. So yes, Anne is everyone’s type – and that has never been a good thing. Derek however seems to have been stunned silent for the time being, a bit paler and a bit wearier – like kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar.
“What I meant is ..” she begins, taking pity on him “Is that we all came from very different backgrounds, met in high school, went to college together and have remained friends since.”

“So why are you here then?” he asks

“To write.” She says honestly, clinging to the idea that technically that is what she is here for.

“You’re a writer ?” he says, and the tone almost sounds reverent, and Anne thoroughly refuses to admit to any sort of curiosity she might have of looking into that.

“I guess.” She evades. Lydia invited us here to mostly relax, have some fun, and get an idea of what to write. Alex – the little one your friend seemed very keen on picking on ? which by the by …if he continues he’s going to get more than just a punch and I swear to aisha I am not getting in-between Alex and a target every again so that guy is on his fucking own – “ she takes a deep breath and ignores the way Derek just chuckled and grins like he’s heard the best kind of news that day “Anyway … Alex? She’s a photographer. I hope this trip will help improve her portfolio “ which again, technically isn’t a lie.

“That’s nice.” He says, but he sounds oddly distracted “But what about you? What do you write?” he asks, and Anne gulps – because she hasn’t written for the sake of writing in years. But way back when, when she used too she always wrote “Romance.” She says “Mostly. And Scifi because I have a flare for the impossible. But I haven’t written anything consistent in years.”

“I’d love to read some of your work.” He says and comes to a stop, and Anne has been so distracted by the conversation that she has no idea how they got to room fifty three this fast.

“I … uh.” She says intelligently and knocks on the door in lieu of an answer. It swings open and a guy that looks more like the kind of men you’d see on an Abercrombie and Fitch add narrows his eyes sleepily at them.

“Aiden.” Derek says and nods and Anne is left to look dumbly between the two “This belong to you?” he asks, nudging the sleepy girl a little and Aiden groans.

“Ugh …thanks man.” He says, grabbing onto the girls and pulling her in.

“Didn’t you used to prefer sausages instead of chicken breast.” Derek asks, hands sliding easily into his pockets and Anne fails to hold in a surprised snort.

“Aha. “ the man, Aiden says. “Didn’t you used to be more select on the broads you bedded ?” he snides, nodding at Anne. Derek frowns and moves to mouth off at him but Anne beats him to it.

“Hey, listen here Abercrombie – we just brought you drunken beard back before she could dolphin dive into the fucking atlantic – so you can either be a douche and poke the bear and see where that gets you, or you can say thank you like a civilized person, nod a goodnight and go hide in your fucking room and thank whatever deity you prefer that I didn’t manage to get my hands on your very thick neck and squeeze it like a stress ball.” She says, and smirks at the way the guys eyes widen “Personally buddy, I’d love to see you pick option numero uno, because you look like the type of douche I’d feel no remorse in fucking over.”

“Um ..” Aiden says “Good night?” he says, nods once and quickly closes the door in their face.

“Good choice.” Derek says and then turns to look at her “Well … that was fun, we should do it again sometime?”

“Good night mr Hale.” She answers instead and turns to walk away. Derek smirks

“Good night.”

Apparently the plan to find out more about the midget didn’t work out as he assumed. Scott was definitely in a world where, unfortunately, every soon to be married AND in love men disappeared. That and the fact that somehow Scott suddenly took a one eighty and turned into a very smart man; smart and sarcastic. Stiles snorts at the thought as he made his way through the squirming people in the lounge. His eyes shift from person to person, in hopes of finding anyone familiar when, out of nowhere someone crashes his waist, in what could be called a hug.

“Stiles!” the voice shouts, making the guy smile at its familiarity.

“Hey Cora.” He pets her hair, long hands returning the hug. “Isaac fished you out the sea?” he winks and earns a fist in his stomach that basically held no strength whatsoever.

“Jerk. No, mom and dad forgot I was coming with you guys and left the house.” Cora grimaces as she rolls her eyes. “I came with Erica.”

“Oh right, where those two are?” his eyes glances around for a hot blond girl and a dark tall, far too muscled man.

“As if you don’t know.” Cora snickers, her hand wrapping around his before she starts pulling him through the crowd, Stiles laughing as he lets his body be dragged by the brunette.

They reach a corner where his band mates just ordered a round of beers, handing one to him as he approaches the table with the biggest grin on his face. “Aw guys, you are adorable.” Before talking a huge gulp from his bottle, engaging into whatever conversations they had.



The sound coming from down tells Alex, finally, people started to pop out their rooms for the night.

Isaac was right, despite the buzzing sound; the place was nice to hang out. It was relatively quiet, completely free of people, occasionally some of the ships staff would come and have a smoke. Until now none had the courage to engage her in a conversation and she wondered just what vibe she was sending. Whatever it was, Alex was far from pleased- she was relieved.

Star gazing was her favorite thing to do; she would go on top of the roof in the middle of the night with a blanket around her and she would stay there, lost in space, hoping for something strange to happen, imagining all sorts of fantasies and stories that would eventually turn into dreams. More than half her childhood had been like this and as she remembers now; it may have been the best time in her life.

A smile creeps over her face, lashed fluttering close and once again she leaves her mind wonder far.

They’re loud, rambunctious, obnoxious, and if she would concentrate Lydia would be sure she could find at least twenty more negative adjectives to use in describing them.

The drinks keep pouring; shot after shot, after blindingly strong shot, and she takes her time in observing them, in watching the downwards spiral they all seem keen on degenerating into, in pinpointing the exact point in which each of them decide that they need to drink to forget rather than to have fun. It’s depressing in its stunning singularity: a quiet observation of the human coping mechanism, she chooses to call it.

But what is more depressing it how fucking banal it all became over time.

The baggage they all seem to be carrying, the past they all want so furiously run away from that they would sooner drown themselves in alcohol rather than remember even one second of it , is the reason why Lydia keeps fighting for them – the reason why she refuses to give up on them. Her dysfunctional little family; brought together by circumstance or need, that took the blows they were dealt with and turned them into something brilliant and special - something worth fighting for. Her little family that has seen so much pain and suffering that rather than letting the world brush past them again they all chose to lock themselves in, turns the world away, and build walls around themselves in an effort to keep the world out. And despite all this, despite locking the world away they still managed to touch it so furiously and vehemently that no matter what there will always be a little spot in history for them.

They turned pain and expressed it through words and rhymes and music - and this, this version of themselves Lydia decided a long time ago that she wanted to save. Not who they were trying to forget being, but rather who they became despite everything.

“Another round!” Stiles yells to her side, and Lydia smiles fondly at him; nods slightly in silent permission and he smiles , grateful and wise, back at her. She knows his demons as well as he does. Is intimetly familiar with a few of them, and is very aware that she very well might qualify as one for him. So she allows it – smiles and lifts her half drank glass of white wine while the rest cheer.

Scott cheers a drunken howl at her side, Allyson clinging to his neck with a perfect smile on her face and Lydiais left to wonder. Wonder if Allyson isn’t perhaps in the same boat as her? – trapped with one leg in the looking glass while stubbornly trying to keep the other one out, dealing with all her own shit while silently trying to save the people she loved. Allyson’s eyes catch hers and she smiles wider; Lydia’s lips barely pull into a smile.

To her left, sitting somewhere outside the college student vibe Stiles and Scott seem to be casting on their little circle, is Derek. Quiet, reserved, and shoulders tense and caged. His eyes are hollow in that way they always seem to get when he has one drink too many –the look that says he’s lost in thinking of fires and screaming and ashes. He doesn’t look at Lydia, but then again she has come to appreciate that Derek very rarely ever really looks at somebody – like he’s afraid that if he would get to know somebody again the ashes from his past would swoop in and spirit them away all over again. Stiles must sense this too because he throws an empty shot glass at his head, and Lydia frowns. It matters little that Derek dodged it at the past minute, the fast approaching blur somehow snapping him out of his own mind and narrowly missing a blow to the skull – Stiles still threw a glass at him.

It’s a slow motion train wreck after that, and she watches with detached horror how everything descends into uncontrolled chaos. It’s Stilles, surprisingly, that is the first to act. He jumps up and calls Derek out on apparently forgetting the code. Ah, yes, the code – Stiles brilliant idea of a drinking rule – it basically prohibits anyone from thinking of anything too deep or too personal while out ‘partying’

“And that apparently is grounds for homicide?!” is what Derek replies with and, yes, Lydia has to side with him on that one.

“Punishable by death!” A stiles slur, sways on his feet and Scott steadies him at the last minute. Derek calls him an idiot then, and again Lydia can’t really argue with that, and Stilles … well … Stilles fucks up.

“Maybe I don’t want to take character critiques from a guy whose love life was grounds for a murder trial.” Scott manages to mutter ‘shit’ under his breath before all hell breaks loose. There’s glasses flying, punches aimed, and people screaming. Arround them the bar has been cleared and bouncers had been called, and everyone is trying to tear apart the two volcanoes at the epicenter of the turmoil. Lydia is left stunned, glass still half raised to her lips while the scene in front of her unravels itself into a blur of sheer stupidity, and out of the corner of her eye she sees Anne – reserved and leaning on a corner, eyes narrowed and hands resting lazily in her pockets, and she realizes that she can see the wheels in her friends mind already working.

Shit.

Someone breaks the chain of dreams her brain was currently swimming in by thumping loud heavy feet on the wooden deck. Alex body jerks fully awake as another round of feet runs near her. She doesn’t know how long she passed out but by the way her vision is still blurred, despite not having her glasses, she thinks long enough.

She lazily gets up, stretches and leaves her spot since it has already lost the magic. Alex knew it was too good to be true.
On her way to the lounge where apparently it was the main place of meeting, she took in the beauty of the ship, at how gracious it was moving while having that rough look. She was unimpressed in the beginning, the first time her eyes fell on it. True, it was big – not huge, but big enough to hold at least 200 people easily, excluding the whole staff.
Alex went through the brochure, glancing mostly at the pictures than actually finding time to read it throughout. It even had a small map at which she snorted, glanced over it two times before closing and throwing it somewhere in Lydia’s car.


It is a four deck boat, the first, ground floor – as it was named in the brochure – holds the main attractions of the ship – spa and beauty treatments, fitness center with sauna and showers, two dining rooms connected to a lounge bar and finishing with a 20 feet long swimming pool. The first deck holds the rooms in which they are currently sitting. True they were not big and fancy as the V.I.P ones, but it kept that feeling of coziness and the fact that it held a private bathroom, which again, it was small, made her wonder just what comfort the other room’s from deck four had. The third deck was the captain’s deck. It was accessible to everyone, less the control room, quiet as hell and perhaps her favorite place here. And then there was the fourth – the V.I.P deck which she yet to go and probably won’t go there unless she was either part of the staff or having a V.I.P card. Fucking rich assholes.

All in one the boat was pretty impressive on the inside, modern with a touch of vintage, but welcoming and casual in the same time. That was the whole point; to make you feel special yet at home and at this right moment she felt grateful to Lydia for choosing them and thankful to Anne for accepting. It might have been few hours since her ‘holiday’ started but it already felt blissful.

She remembers on the ground deck, at the other end of the boat there is a cocktail bar with three Jacuzzi which she would like to spend some of that blissfulness in it right now. She groans loudly because she has to meet Lydia and the girls later, her dream suddenly flies out the boat and into the still water surrounding her. It’s not as if spending time with them reaches the bottom of her list, but sometimes they would get out of place, acting more like parents than friends who are meant to accept one for who they really are and since her character is leaning more towards not quite giving a shit about her appearance – well then hell unleashes.

A hand gripped the banister of the external stairs, fingers brushing against the glossy as she made her way down to the lounge in search for her friends. Just few feet away from the entrance of the lounge bar she hears shouts and swears, curiosity taking over.

And of course there is the douche in the middle of a fight with – wait – a brow raises delicately and lips turns into a smirk. Who would have known that the two who formed the world wide known band are throwing punches at each other. Her eyes takes in the people around – Allison is holding Lydia’s arm tight, lip sucked in as the latter just stares at the whole chaos. Scott and Isaac fails at holding a very squirming and flushed Stiles while one bouncer has Derek hands locked behind in a painful manner.

And then she sees Anne, frowning and deep in thought. Alex walks calm and leans against the wall near her.

“Who knew things would be get this interesting.” There is a flash of bodies passing and then green eyes meets unfocused, honey colored ones. She frowns. “What happened?"

“We’re in over our heads.” Anne says simply. There’s something unsettling about her Alex realizes. Her stance is relaxed; shoulders lax and hands dropped lazily into her pockets, at first she can’t pinpoint it, but then it becomes frighteningly clear. Anne’s eyes  are blank, focused, cold, and guarded. It’s a look she hasn’t seen in years, not since  -

“Why?” She asks instead, eyes slowly turning away from her and focusing on the onslaught of screams, shouts and pointed fingers .

“Because …” Anne says calmly and silently stands away from the wall and moves towards the exit. Alex frowns.

“That’s not an answer!” she screams back, but knows that’s the only answer she will get for the time being. She catches Lydia’s eye and exchanges a sigh with her from across the room. Lydia, true to form, gives her a tight lipped smile.  Yeah, that’s pretty much tonight’s shared sentiment.



Anne doesn’t really sleep that might. She takes advantage of the free wifi that apparently only seems to work on the back end of the ship, and does what she does best – research. She figured that the names the band members go by are stage names, so looking up anything involving  these search parameters is excluded off the bat. But, there is an off chance that at least some of them had some form of emotional attachment to their given names. She excludes stiles from this search, because she refuses on principle to live on a planet in which a parent would willingly name a child Stiles, and focuses on Derek.

She is surprised to realize that just like Scott, he too chose to foolishly go by his real name – and that in itself turns out to be a nightmare. Because the guy is so layered in fan-blogs and news sites that ant\y tangible information about him is akin to finding a needle in a haystack. It’s exhausting, boring work – and by three AM she is about to throw in the towel. Then she finds it – an article about a teenage baseball playing wonder-kid, who was the rave of a town in the middle of buttfuck nowhere California. There are no pictures, no details, just a tiny article in something called  “The Beacon”  that calls a ‘D. Hale’ the town here. It’s not much  but it’s a start in the right direction – and though she doesn’t have the necessary skills to access school records and case files, she does however have the next best thing – contacts.

She sends a quick email to one of them, linking the article, the town and the name of the person she is investigating and makes it urgent. A few seconds later her inbox dings with a single lined reply.

‘I’m on it.’


By seven AM, Anne has consistently only managed to get about two hours of sleep and feels like warmed-over crap, but the idea that she is making any kind of progress into this is enough inventive to have her shower, change and present herself at breakfast with a smile on her face and skip in her step.

Alex groaned when the alarm went off at eight o’clock – a far too early hour for a holiday, she mumbles getting up from the bed. Last night had been wild. In fact yesterday had been wild, her mind mildly hoping for a less eventful day as she glances up the small window to see a bright day. Somewhere far her eyes barely makes out land, wondering if it’s that or her brain seem to play tricks.

There is something off about the whole morning, perhaps the previous night having some fault in it, because Alex woke up on the other side of the bed. It feels deep in her bones, floating in her blood before it settles in the pit of her stomach, tickling there in a very unpleasant way.

Anne had been awfully secretive yesterday night. Right after the chaos had been unleashed; each slipping into their respective rooms without a word, Alex had gone to bed falling asleep not even a minute after her head hit the pillow.

But now she was awake and as yesterday, everyone was around a very big table, minus Derek and Stiles, who were probably still locked in their rooms, healing while licking their wounds shamefully.

Anne was sipping at her coffee, deep in thoughts as she glanced out the window. Lydia and Allison were together with Cora and a blond curly girl whom she didn’t know and the guys on the other side of the table.

“Morning.” She calls with a voice still rough from sleep, towards Anne who turns it with a smile. “Not for you I see.”

Alex clicks her tongue. “When was I a morning person?” she says, making grabby hands at Anne’s own cup of delicious black, very good smelling coffee. Anne shakes her head but pushes the cup, Alex suddenly grins before she takes a sip and moans very loud and very long. The whole table goes silent before they burst into snickers and laughs and giggles.

“Um, sorry?” she blushes, sending a small smile to everyone.


Perhaps the day would be just slightly better than yesterday.

She has been sitting at this table for the better part of an hour. And for that entire time she couldn’t in good continence tell you what exactly has been talked about at the table. She recalls vaguely that she participated, in some way shape or form, but any details on the topics are lost in a fog of confusion and abject detachment. She knows that at some point she simply nodded away and chose to look away; the waves and distant seagulls lulling her own thoughts to the surface like a sirens song.

When Alex sits down she gets pulled out of that haze, and smiles brightly back at her. She anchors her, she realizes, and she is surprised to realize just how fine she is with that.

“If memory serves you haven’t been a morning person since the summer of ’09.” She jumps in and Lydia nods solemnly.

“Oh man, the look on your face when you realized what we put in your hair.” Allyson says, hand failing to cover the wise smile that spreads across her face.

“Fuck all of you. The smell took weeks to get off.” Alex murmurs into her cup and the rest of the table lifts their eyebrows in a display of synchronized choreography.

“Dare we ask?” Scott, ever the brave one asks, and he receives a chorus of noes from the three ladies in question.

“Private moment.” Anne says.
“No boys allowed.” Lydia quips.

“Fuck off.” Alex adds.

“Sorry babe, we swore on the girl code.” And Allyson, bless her heart, finds it in her to explain. Scot just nods, dumbly and a bit transfixed by the entire display before smiling dumbly at Allyson and giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

“Uh. It’s too early for that shit.” A voice cuts in from behind then and a very sleep ruffled and hung over Stiles quickly follows it. “Just let me get the alcohol out of my system without making me puke it out. Please.” He adds and Scott smirks.

“Look who finally woke up.” He says and receives a middle finger for his troubles. “How’d you sleep?”

“I didn’t.” he says playingly, latching out to the nearest cup of coffee like it was a lifeline. “My preciousss .” he signs and take a scalding gulp and winces “Burned tongue. Worth it.”

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” Anne asks, chin lazily supported on the ball of her hand while she looks him over boringly “Guilty conscience ?” she smirks slyly and Stiles frowns her way .

“I’m sorry who are you again?” he snides angrily and Anne just smiles innocently at him.

“Depending on your answer? Either your new best friend or your future nemesis.”

Stiles couldn’t, for the sake of it, connect his thoughts in a single smart sentence without a wince from the hangover that was currently short circuiting his brain. His eyes were puffy, red and so small that even the faintest ray of light got him teary.
It was far too early for his brain to boot to life and even more far to fight. Again. He decided to just glare angrily as he stomped over to the other side of evil gathering that was happening in the lounge – because one evil was enough in his life, two, he might have been able to handle, but three? Three was harder even for his brilliant come backs. He would leave out Allison; the girl had enough kindness inside to put off wars if it was possible.

He took another sip of his coffee, his taste buds enough burned to act as a shield against the hot liquid of heaven. He moans as the coffee made its way into his system, literally bringing to life his entire being.

He doesn’t realize the heads turned towards him from the other side as he closes his eyes, enjoying the bliss.

Alex had the worst habit of speaking before thinking. There is an emphasis on ‘had’ because that was about fifteen years ago.
There is a snort, low and sarcastic “As if someone like him could have any friends.” She knows it’s meant to be a whisper, heard only by the girls, but by some fucked up luck she seems to attract these days, the idiot snaps his head in her direction.

“I wasn’t aware that hobbits associate with others out of his league.” He smirks and Alex eyes widen. Stiles leans against his chair, an arm thrown behind it while the other taps long fingers against the coffee cup. He had a challenging look.

“Out of my league are people who judge a book by its cover and people who find pleasure in making fun of others in hopes of filling that something they don’t have.” She calmly replies. Her eyes turns back to their normal size, deciding that either way, Stiles would never stop and since she was supposed to talk with him, avoiding the douche was clearly not a very wise option.

Now it was Stiles turn to react, his head thrown back revealing his long neck as he laughed loud. He recovers and shifts his eyes at the brunette.

“I like her.” It’s short, blunt and serious and even though his face is still on Anne, an awfully long finger is pointed in Alex's direction. “As for your awaiting answer – no, I have no guilt conscience.” He leans on the table, connecting his fingers around the cup. “And even if I had one, I wouldn’t be an idiot to admit it in front of someone I know nothing about.” He shrugs, finishes his coffee in one gulp and gets up. “So I guess you are my nemesis?” he gives one of those annoying grin and leaves but not before leaning into Alex personal space.

There is a visible tension in her body when Stiles’ chest barely brushes her shoulder. It might be even a sharp inhale, but that could easily come from someone else, because the room becomes a bit too quiet for Stiles and Alex’s comfort.

However, Stile’s is a stubborn young man, so he leans his face closer to the girl. “Not to be an asshole, but I couldn’t help but notice how your hair looks this morning.” And with that unfinished statement he is out the door.

Alex, the stupid girl she is, snaps out of the trance and before she can realize what she is doing, the cup connects with the door, the impact sending pieces of porcelain everywhere.

“I wouldn’t be too surprised if by the end of this cruise we will all have to pay a very big amount for the damages we do.” Cora says from somewhere at the table. “Seriously you guys need medical assistance.” She glances around everyone before receiving a kiss and a laugh from Isaac. “Don’t worry babe, I’m sure we can figure something out to make things work between those two.” He winks and receives a look from Alex that makes him duck behind his girlfriend.

“That or we could easily throw them over boat.” Lydia sighs before resting her chin against her hand. “I opt for the latter, because it seems less frustrating.”

“Fuck you Lydia.” Alex adds.

“You seem to fuck everyone this morning. Horny much?” Anne laughs before nudging her in the ribs.

“Well, you girls seem pretty fun.” Erica interacts smiling as one arm dangles over Cora’s shoulders. “I’m Erica. This is Cora.” She brushes the younger girl’s hair, the latter trying to squirm her way out. “I’m Boyd’s fiancée.” She might have said it with a reason, but since Anne and Alex are unfazed by the statement she smiles even brighter.

Alex looks over to where, assuming, Boyd was nodding at her. She liked Boyd, as a friend of course, and she liked Isaac too. They both had this reserved air going around them, maybe not so sure about Isaac – he was an angel with a devil’s soul, but definitely Boyd was reserved.

“Nice to officially meet you.” Alex smiles sarcastically at Lydia who shrugs and goes to pour herself another cup of coffee.

“Hey, there are way too many people I need to introduce you to, so feels free to interact.” Lydia leans against the bar, a croissant in her hand and the cup in the other.

“If you would have introduced everyone from the beggining, then perhaps all this chaos wouldn’t happen right now.” Allison says matter-of-factly. “Why won’t we have a proper meeting later, when everything settles down?” the girl clearly had way too much optimism in her brain to even remotely think that was a safe idea.

“You got to be kidding me.” Alex groans, finally sitting back on the couch.

“I think that is actually a very good idea.” It’s Anne’s turn to talk, and there is THE smirk on her face. Alex literally sweat- drops. “We could go for an introduction game. Say couple of things about each other, you know, like in school.” Alex bangs her head on the table and Lydia’s eyes sparkle.

"Oh that should be fun!" Erica and Cora claps and Scott nods with a smile.

“Kill me now.”

Allison comes over and pets her hair, because of course Allison had to enter their game. Alex groans for the tenth time that morning and just thinks ‘I am just a photographer, why am I dragged in this torturous game.’ because the idea of spending more than a minute in that idiot's company is just worse than a nightmare.

“I don’t like that kid.” Anne says later when they all scattered like wildfire away from the breakfast table. She’s sitting on a deckchair , ridiculously large sunhat perched on her head a a pair of fashionable red sunglasses hanging from the bridge of her nose. They decided to play nice with the locals and join in on the blindingly boring game that revolved around cooking under the sun in hopes of getting your skin broiled by it to somehow enhance your sense of self-worth ; also known as sunbathing. “He irks me.” Anne adds, looking over the book she has been pretending to read at Stiles and Scott who are currently goofing around near the pools edge.

“He irks everyone.” A voice says over their heads and both women look up in unison at the towering figure of Derek Hale in all of his brooding glory. He’s wearing a soft looking wifebeater, a pair of kaki shorts that Anne feels compelled to scoff at, and a pair of raybans that look like they are currently doing a pisspoor job at hiding one hell of a shiner. “He’s an irritating little douche, but he’s an amazing friend and helped put together this gang of mischiefs.” he says, and there is a fierceness to his tone that has Anne slowly lower her sunglasses and raise a skeptical brow at him.

“Mr Hale, “ she says, and it’s the tone that has Alex turn at whiplash speed to look at her; it’s the kind of tone Anne generally reserves for special occasions such as dealing with blindingly obtuse superiors, or small children. “Stiles threw an empty shot glass. At your head.” She says slowly, and Dereks brows do this sort of complicated dance that have Alex’s eyes widen involuntarily because holy fuck … she didn’t even know eyebrowese was even a language – but there it is, clear as day. “’Amazing friend’ might be a bit of a stretch, don’t you think?” She adds and Derek grunts in an incomprehensible gesture of … Alex doesn’t even know anymore.

“He had his reasons.” Derek says back plainly and Anne barks back a laugh so hard that Alex flinches in her seat in surprise.

“Dude!” she says, clutching her chest and paling a bit.

“Sorry.” Anne smirks then narrows her eyes back at Derek who just raises a challenging eyebrow at her “I suppose you’re familiar then with the term ‘Stockholm Syndrome’ then?”

“That’s not what this is .”

“No, it’s not. But it’s really close to being one.” She smirks and Derek frowns “Look, Mr. Hale, you have a right to be angry. I am not telling you to be angry, mind you – in fact I am quite please you chose to take the highroad in this – very few people do this day. But the fact that you feel like you deserve it, that it’s normal …? That … kind of worries me.”

“It’s a complicated dynamic miss …?” he says and trails off in a way that has Anne smirking back

“Thorn.” She says, and Alex immediately catches it and frowns.

“Anne Thorn.” Derek smiles, like the name pleases him in some way “It doesn’t fit you.” He says again, and Anne nods “Well then, miss Thorn, it’s a complicated dynamic like I said. Me and these guys have been in it for far too long – for various different reasons, we fight, we talk it out, we compromise – but sometimes you have to learn to skip all these steps and just hurry the process along towards the finishing line – me forgiving this incident means that harmony will be reached faster than it would if we’d employ the traditional channels.”

“The prices to pay for doing the work you do, I suppose.” Anne says, dismissively, already losing interest in pursuing a conversation with somebody so neck-deep in denial. She smiles once, politely, pushes her sunglasses up with the tip of her index finger, and turns her full attention to her book. “Have a good day, mister Hale.” She says to the pages in a way that has Derek stiffening his entire stance. He nods back curtly, defensively, and excuses himself to leave.

“Thorn?” Alex whispers to her when he is well out of earshot “Since when do you go by your dad’s last name?” Anne doesn’t look back up when she answers

“Since there’s wifi on the boat and they could google me at any time.”

“Makes sense.” Alex nods, eyes trained on the people around, analyzing their movements and facial expressions. She doesn’t however, let her eyes roam over a particular person’s body, taking sharp intakes of breath whenever a muscle flexes. Of course she doesn’t and somehow she feels grateful for the sunglasses she is sporting at that moment, because if Anne would notice it by chance, it might be the end of her.

Her hand grips tighter the camera in front of her when a pair of honey colored eyes glance in her direction, hoping the posture does not give way the direction the lenses are heading.

Suddenly, through the lenses Alex can make out a glossy, tanned skin before a voice makes her jump from her seat.
“My my, isn’t this so cliché.” when Alex adjusts the lenses, she is greeted with a smirking face which she immediately snaps before lowering the device on her lap, redressing her body into a more comfortable position.

“Bite me.” Alex sticks her tongue out, takes the glass of lemonade and sips a small amount of it. “Besides, natural habitat. Apparently does for animals like him.” She snickers, one corner lifting just slightly up.

“Ok this has to stop ok? It gets pretty old and disturbing.” Lydia defends, side glancing at where Stiles splotches water at Scott before diving head forward into the water. “He is really a good guy once you get to know him.” Green eyes holds Alex’s in a way that half begs, half criticizes. “Give him a chance.”

Alex snorts, lifting her upper body from the deck chair and dragging a leg towards her chest. “When he will stop being an asshole I may change my mind but until-“

“You are better than this.” Lydia interrupts, choosing to sit on the empty space from Alex chair. “I know you, you don’t get challenged this easy Alex.” Her hand places against her knee.

Now its Anne’s turns to snort, forcing Lydia’s eyes towards her, brows close to a frown.

“People change.” She says, eyes glued to her book. “We changed.”

There is a moment of silence before Lydia lets out a sigh. “Work changed you-“

“And the people we met.” Alex interrupts bringing her hand above Lydia’s. “You cannot blame us for what we became.” Her voice is higher than before she realizes, but in a way cannot bring herself to lower it.

“And you cannot blame him for being like this.” Lydia throws a hand towards the pool. Alex eyes glances briefly to see if Stiles was looking at them.

“You haven’t said anything about any of them. You never taught us how we should behave around them, how are we to blame here?” Alex retorts, feeling the anger rising. It wasn’t fair to be brought into this without any sort of background to follow, without any information. “We need to find it ourselves and by that means we need to do it our own way.” She leans back in her seat, her hands crossed over her chest.

“I-“ Lydia starts but finds herself at a loss of words. “It was a short time.”

“And that is not a reason.” Anne adds, lowering her book.

“Fine.” Lydia snaps, rising from the bed. “Fine.” She says seconds later, voice lower, ashamed. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” Alex responds looking up at Lydia. “We came here as pros. We don’t know how to act either way, but we can make it work.” Her hands grabs the camera again, bringing it up to take a photo of a very vulnerable Lydia. It was a very rare shot and dammed she’ll be if she would lose it. “We just need information Lydia.” That sentence seemed to tense the red head in a way she wasn’t expecting, but Alex kept her face passive, waiting for an answer.

“I’ll send an email later.” She purses her pink lips before she completely drops into a different state. “Now can we have a bit of fun?”

Alex frowns before she sighs, sets the camera aside carefully and safe in the bag. “Whatever ass.”

“That’s my girl.” Lydia grabs Alex arm as soon as she comes close enough before calling towards Anne. “How about you?”

They’re a loud bunch; unhinged and unchained by any kind of social norm – and Anne has to wonder if perhaps the lifestyle of the rich and the famous doesn’t indeed have some perks because just … looks at them. Their smiles are wide, their laughter’s loud, their eyes are shinning with mirth and merriment. And underneath all this she knows, logically, that at leats some of them are broken – maybe some beyond repair – but they hide it well. And isn’t that the secret to happiness.

She chooses to stay out of the ‘fun’ Lydia insists on them having; doesn’t object when Alex goes off to join, but cannot see the benefit of doing it herself. She sits back and observed though – observes the way Stiles fidgets everytime Derek smiles and laughs at one of his jokes. Observes the way Derek tries his damn hardest to appear like nothing is wrong, and the way it sort of sets Stiles on edge. Sees the way Scott and Boys seem to be exchanging looks over their heads – like a silent battleplan in case everything goes to shit again. Sees how Allyson leans into Scotts shoulder more and more, silently comforting him even though he laughs just as hard as the rest of them, jokes just as strongly as ever.

They are all so broken, and yet so skilled at hiding it.

Stilles is the first to open the topic – though she is far too away to hear. She sees him walking over to the poolside where Derek is currently lounging on a chair with an ice cold bear . He sits down on the chair next to him and rests his elbows on his knees. Derek goes still and silent, and Stiles talks with his chin lowered and shoulders hunched. Derek is the first to move of the two, placing a heavy hand on Stiles’ shoulder and Stiles visibly deflates under it.
And that’s it. They go back to playing and partying after that like nothing ever happened , but before Anne can look more into it her phone beeps.

[You owe me about 50 burgers for this.] the message with a large attachment reads. Anne smirks.

“Hey.” Alex comes out of the daze when a voice calls, followed closely by a nudge in her shoulder. She raises her head, eyes squinting painfully through the glasses at the blinding sun.

“Hey Cora.” She smiles, eyes going back to watch the group playing polo while her legs dangle lazily in the water as she sits on the edge of the swimming pool.

Surprisingly there are no sarcastic comments from Stiles towards her and that alone makes Alex frown. There is something odd going out inside the kids mind and she can’t put a finger on what exactly is it. It makes her edgy, defensive somehow, as if soon the storm will unleash.

“Don’t you want to join?” Cora interrupts the chain of thoughts, and it sounds a bit soft and worried. Alex’s eyebrows shot up.

During the years Alex learned to understand humans throughout – studied psychology on her own and took couple of advanced lessons – in order to get under people’s skin and use it to her advantage. Now, every change of tone in their voice, every pose they had, meant a certain feeling they would have and it was easy to play along.

“Sun makes me dizzy.” She replies, and it was half true half false. “I usually don’t leave without my glasses, but since I’m here.” She smiles.

“Why not wear contacts?” Cora asks, finally deciding to sit next to her, couple of drops splashing Alex thighs from the sudden movement. Her over heated body shivers as the droplets come in contact with the skin.

“They irritate me.” Alex shrugs, hitting the water with the sole of her foot.

“I see.”


There is a silence that settles between them; Alex comfortable and relaxed, Cora twitching, sharp intake of breath coming and going as if she wants to say something, but decides not to just in the last minute. Couple of minutes later and Alex finds herself disturbed by it.

“If you want to say something just shoot.”

She sees Cora back stiffen. “Am I that obvious?” she adds a short moment later, visibly embarrassed.

“I’m a photographer. I learned over the years to read peoples body language.” She confesses, grinning at Cora who sports a blush over her cheeks.

“Well, you are pretty.” There is a mumble and Alex laughs.

“You don’t give off this vibe of a shy person Cora, so-“ she makes a motion with her hand for Cora to just say it. “Be brave.”

“Ok fine.” Cora sighs. “How old are you?” She asks bluntly. “Because you seriously don’t look Lydia’s age.” She continues, eyes burning with curiosity and something close to suspicion.

These kids are sharper than she would have expected; figures considering the circumstances.

“Twenty six.” Alex replies immediately, an answer at which Cora’s eyes widen. “I can show you my ID if you don’t believe.” She says through a laugh.

“Oh my god no, it’s just that – wow – I swear I gave you like twenty, maybe twenty one, but no more than that.” She laughs as well shaking her head.

“Might be the size.” She jokes and something falls in the water, splashing them all over.

“Jesus!”

“Fuck!”

Cora and Alex calls in unison at the sudden cool water against their skin as Scott and Isaac laughs on the other side of the pool.
Eventually Stiles emerges out the water, grabs at Alex foot and with a sudden pull she is under the water.

“Holy fucking shit it’s cold!” she curses as soon as her face is out; hands fumbles with her hair that got free from the fake hold she manages to pull it in before glancing around for the person.

“You should thank me.” A voice comes from behind and when she turns, she has to bring her hands into fists to refrain from killing Stiles right then and there. “I saved you from brain-cooking.” Stiles grins and Alex’s blood boils. Then she remembers Lydia’s words.

“Thank you.” she smiles, bats an eyelash at him before she swims out.

“I think it was too late though.” Stiles calls from the swimming pool.

“I beg your pardon?” Alex turns, raises a brow and folds her arms in front of her chest. She can see Lydia in the corner of her eyes, as she literally makes puppy eyes at her.

“Well you are nice today.” He says and swims towards the edge of the pool, brings his hands up to rest over it. “Finally you give in?” there is that smirk over his face and she rolls her eyes.

She crouches in front of him and for split second his eyes widen before they settle back to their impassive look. It’s her turn to smirk.

“Since when this became a game?” she whispers. Now that she is calmer, she can finally take in his perfect skin, the moles constellating their way across his cheeks and neck and basically the whole body. Deep inside she can admit he is handsome, but just deep inside and completely and only for her.

There is a movement on his neck as he swallows. He knows how to play it cool and Alex wonders just when he became such a good actor and what exactly is behind this mask he keeps on pulling over and over again.

“Since that lame punch you threw.” Stiles replies, a bit serious this time and Alex can’t help but think that maybe this is how he communicates. Perhaps this is the only way he can show any feelings and she can’t help the feeling of regret that creeps over her because he could have so much potential if he can only get over whatever it is that forces him to act this way.

“It may have been lame, but it left a mark.” She smiles, gets up and heads towards the deck chair.

Stiles just watches her leave, a deep frown over his face.

“Cat got your tongue?” Scott comes a minute later, laughing.

“Shut the fuck up man.” Stiles snaps and ducks under water, leaving a very confused, yet amused Scott behind.

“I have no idea what the fuck you got yourself into, but you owe me.” The voice in the receptor says, and the tone is so harsh that Anne has to remind herself that flinching would be counterproductive to both ends of the conversation.

“So you’ve mentioned.” She says, trying to sound detached, even though her eyes are currently scanning the attachment she received earlier.

“Do you have any idea what kind of resources I had to use to get you that information, Anne?” he asks, and even though she can’t see him Anne already knows he’s trying not to snap too hard. His head is probably lowered, and his frown is probably deepening. She heard his sigh, heavily, trying to gain some sense of control over his tone before he starts again, slower and calmer. Anne goes still. “I had to call in favors you fucktard.” He says, and Anne knows instantly that she has no desire what so ever to know what exactly those favors implied.

“It’s for a good cause.” She says, tries to put a play in her tone, and the voice grunts on the other end of the line.

“It better fucking be.” He says and then takes a deep breath “Ok so, whatever this guy did it was buried deep. Like ridiculously deep – MY clearance level sort of deep.” He says, emphasizing the word while Anne’s  brows shoot to her hairline.

“Oh , wow, the guy must have -” She says, finger absentmindedly scrolling through the thick folder on her laptop.  She stops, frowns, and taps the tip of her finger over the scroll wheel absentmindedly. She doesn’t realize that she stopped mid-sentence, of that the faint little beat she’s been playing over the mouse wheel has been audible enough to be heard by the other end of the line until there’s a deep chuckle in her ear.

“So I take it you’ve found the rabbit hole, Alice?” he hums darkly, and Anne gives a toothy grin to her screen.  “Easy  kid, don’t cream your pants over shit you can’t get yet.” He says, almost reading her mind.

“This is more than fucked up.” She finally says, trying to sound detached and professional even though she feels like jumping out of her skin .

“It is. But it’s buried for a reason.” He says back “Try and remember that before you jump head first in this.”

“Professional thy name is Anne.” She says and the voice in her ear snorts sarcastically.

“Ania please …” he says and she freezes, mainly because he’s using his big boy voice on her … and that name. That name that he hasn’t used on her since she left them and everything behind; it’s cruel and painful, and it makes the hole in her chest ache painfully inside her.  “If he serves you his sob story on a platter you’ll take him in like a fucking puppy off the streets. Fuck, the number of times your mom had to tell the nani to keep an eye on you because you’d always sneak in strays –“

“You remember that?” she breathes out a chuckle, more winded than amused because that part of her is almost sealed away completely – remembering it feels like a betrayal.  There’s a pause, a deep breath, and she could almost swear he’s gripping the phone tighter,

“Of course I fucking do.” He breathes out, and she closes her eyes silently. “I’ve never – “ he cuts himself off “I couldn’t forget, Ania. I fucked away everything, but not you.” He says finally “I didn’t even try too.”

“You miss me.” She says, and doesn’t sound like a question – it’s not meant to either.

“You miss me.” He says back, and she nods silently even though he can’t see her. “Someday.” He says finally, and she nods again before whispering back

“Someday.”

“Now go out there and fuck shit up, get that job you always wanted, and make em all weep.”

“Hell yeah.” She smirks to herself

“Oh and Anne?” he adds distantly “Don’t fall in love with him.” She frowns.

“Why not?”

“Because you haven’t fallen out of love with me yet.” Ah, yeah. The devil is always in the fucking details, she thinks.

So there may have been moments when Alex have thought about this trip twice; a passing thought here and there, perhaps even a ‘why’ added inside there, but it was washed away by the mere fact that this was her best friend way of leveling to the job she always wanted. And because Alex was a very good friend she didn’t think twice and acted on instinct. It’s exactly the kind of odd occurrence when your best friend knocks on your door carrying a dead body –you don’t question, you just grab a shovel and follow. Alex was the Watson to Anne’s Holmes, the Robin to her Batman; and it was exciting and frustrating in the same time.

Alex lets a laugh escape her lips as she sits at the table, where apparently, became the meeting spot for everyone. After the fight a day ago, people stopped passing by the lounge, even though before they just barely made an appearance; it was as if they gang had stuck the flag in the area, screaming and fighting if anyone would ever pass the frontier.

There is another laugh, louder this time.

“Um you ok there?” is Lydia who comes with a concerned look, nudging Alex shoulder with hers to make sure the trance she was completely washed away.

There is a snort on the other side of the bar, that lone sound clearing Alex thoughts. “I told her to cool her brain before.” Stiles states from behind the bar, failing to notice the death glare Alex sent him that moment.

“Fine.” The word holds that bitterness which made people back at work, disappear behind their desks without any other word for a whole full day and half.

Lydia sighs, rubs her eyes and leave the room, mumbling a ‘I can’t deal with this right now’ on the way.

And that leaves the two of them since everyone else left for a afternoon nap, or better afternoon make out season. Alex frowns at that thought.

She doesn’t hear Stiles moving towards her, she doesn’t see the hand waving in front of her and by the time she snaps out of her gaze, Stiles is next to her already throwing an arm to rest it against the couch’s back. Alex frown deepens before her eyes snap in Stiles direction.

“Ever heard of personal space?” she hisses.

Stiles brings his hand to hold his chin in thought. There is a very short moment where Alex eyes shifts from his face to his neck. And she gulps. For a fraction of second her eyes widen before she mentally screams to get back to her senses.

“Um, nope.” Stiles grins, locking his eyes with her. “So, tell me about yourself.” He doesn’t ask, he demands in a way, but the face it’s genuine and curious.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Alex snorts then breaks the eye contact in favor of watching the sun glittering over the water’s surface.

“As unbelievable as it may sound, I do.” Stiles says and the tone of his voice makes Alex frown. One – because she was not expecting him opening so early and two- because she was taken by surprise by his serious attitude. Where is the cool, rebellious, ‘i-like-making-stupid-jokes’ attitude? Because with that she could compete, but with this Stiles and not to mention, this soon? Definitely not.

So she tries her best to bring back the Stiles she can easily break and shred. “Alex Reichs. Protographer.” At the word photographer Stiles tenses visibly, slipping back under the mask he wore on the first day they met – cold, distant, cautious.

Alex knows, he knows, she saw him, but she doesn’t say anything, instead she smirks. “I thought you wanted to know things about me. There I said it.” Her eyes shifts back to the window and out of the corner of her eyes she can see him frown deeper before he brings a hand over his face.

“That’s not enough.” He responds, starring at her.

“What else you want to know?” she asks, in a passive voice, eyes staring ahead.

“You made this sound as if I am interrogating you.” He snaps and Alex turns her face towards him. He looks scared, fidgety and she wonders just how much energy he has to do all these and many others before he finally gives in and stops. He picks at his fingers – those long, thin yet strong fingers – and Alex knows the meaning behind that gesture. She smiles.

“Are you?” she challenges and for a moment she wonders when she became so mature. Stiles eyes snaps back at Alex who smiles.

“What? No – I mean – no, not in that way.” He groans at the lack of voicing a proper answer. “Jesus this is so awkward.” Next to him, Alex brows shots up in surprise. Is that a blush she sees?

“Is there any other definition for interrogation that I missed?” she adds, scooping just a bit further away from him. Just in case.

“No, I guess not. Well if my English teacher forgot to mention, or any other dictionary, then I guess no there is not.” Stiles laughs, returning to picking at his nails and Alex wonders if this is the shy Stiles.

“So what is this that you do here?” Alex waves between them.

“Um, learning about you?” he asks, not sure if it’s ok to.

And because Alex has a very stupid mouth, and apparently the brain-mouth filter does not work whenever this idiot is around, she asks the most idiotic question. “Why?”

Well, good job brain! Alex mentally slaps her head.

“Ah, I don’t know to be honest.” Stiles blushes more and that snub nose wrinkles in a manner that shows the answer he gave was not a proper one.

Alex shifts in her seat, for the first time uncomfortable. “Fine.” She says after few moments of silence. If he wanted to know more about her then he already entered the game and now it was her turn to give little by little so he can give everything. It may mean to break the little kid’s heart but she wanted Anne to get the job.

The past has a way of always catching up with you. It doesn’t matter if you’ve  sinned or had sin done unto you; if you burry it, it will inevitably dig its way back to the surface. That’s the thing about hiding from yourself, it only works for so long. And all of that effort? All of that time you spent selectively detailing your route around the walls that clogged you in? All of that will someday come crashing down on you.

You can only lie to yourself for so long before your house of cards starts swaying in the wind. But the thing about constructing your life around the sole purpose of navigating away from  your past is that you learn to spot your kind much easier in the crowd. They all give off the same signs, they all operate under the same idiosyncrasies – they are all broken, and they all try to seem like they are not.

Now, Anne is far from stupid. She can see the parallels, can even appreciate the irony on some emphatic level. But the idea that so many people running away from the same thing could be stuck together on the same boat is beginning to border on ludic fallacy. Two groups of young adults, all damaged and broken in some way or another. All tiered and weary about the world they keep out. All running away from their childhood. One, a groups of critically acclaimed singers with an eclectic tendency to moonlight as semipro douchebags .And the other, the two investigative reporters that came along to ruin their lives in the hopes that the very act would somehow gain them job security.

It’s hilarious in its absurdity, and if she had not just finished reading over what would arguably be the world’s saddest case file, then perhaps she’d find it in her to laugh at the situation.

The incredible thing about this is that as of right now, Anne technically had no reason of being on this boat. Two days in and she already got more dirt on them then she could dream off. Her work here was done; work that, mind you,  she could have  done from the comfort of her fucking home. But come hell or high water (and oh god she hopes that’s not where this ride would be heading) she’s stuck here for another two weeks – near the people whose lives she just unraveled and will undoubtedly ruin when she gets back. There’s a sigh that accompanies the slow descent into darkness of the laptop’s screen; and she is left staring silently at her own reflection piercing back from it.

It’s too late for this. Too late for regrets and backpedals. This is her job, and regardless what Lydia expects from her, what the consequences of this article may be, or how many people this will ruin, Anne will always do her job. She sighs and throws one last glance at the clock on the wall. It blinks 3:34 am back at her and she frowns in return.

It’s three AM. Its three AM and she needs a drink.


He finds her sitting at the edge of deck, feet dangling over the side through the railing, forehead pressed against its cold metal and bottle of barely touched vodka besides her. It is arguably not one of her most fine moments, but she brushes off the not-so-subtle clearing of a throat, and the awkward request to join her one woman pity party.  This is one sympathy train she is not  eager to hop on yet.

“So.” He says awkwardly, and  she signs in return – eyes closing against a see breeze and trying her hardest to ignore the question she knows is undoubtedly coming. “Any reason you’re out here alone trying to drink away your sorrow?” he asks, idly picking up the bottle of vodka and frowning at it “And unsuccessfully I may  add?”

“Nothing worth sharing.” She says back without looking. “Nothing I should feel anything over.” She adds; stupidly, she realizes . She looks back at him then, slowly from the corner of her eye and without turning her forehead from the cool of the metal raining and sees him frowning back. A mixture of confusion and worry beginning to form on his forehead, and she has to resist the urge to smile at the way his eyebrows seem to be doing the talking for him at this point.  

“Alright.” He says after a moment, and shifts into a cross-legged position next to her. She slowly raises an eyebrow back at him, and he shrugs back. “I don’t know you well enough to keep prodding at this.” He says finally and then looks out into the calming darkens “But I do know the look of somebody haunted by … whatever it is. And I get it, you know? We all have something we lock out. Something we deny ever happening, or the possibility of every happening again. So yeah, I get it. And I can’t … be there for you in the way that you need, because we all have boundaries and I respect that. But … I can keep you company at least … help keep the thoughts out.” He nods to himself once after that, and a sickening silence falls over them after that. And she is stuck on him, eyes wide and unmoving because this is the man that she will ruin, tear down and decimate, and here he is … offering comfort without being asked. Offering his company and his shoulder for anyone willing. She feels sick – with herself and the world, and closes her eyes against the never-ending and unrelenting drumming noise that seems louder now more than ever.

“You are a good man.” She says finally, and he smiles back at her  - a little sad and a little crooked – in return.

For the past hour Alex has been shifting in her bed, unable to close one eye. The bed sheets gathered under her uncomfortably, poking the body and no matter how much she tried to straighten them it was all in vain. The conversation with Stiles went well, once in a while the younger boy making references at the new information, earning looks of disapproval from Alex, but nevertheless everything went smooth. As far as she was concerned their relationship opened a bit, both learning things about each other. The fact that Alex told half the truth seemed to gain Stiles trust a bit and when he opened up, she found out he quit school earlier due to the band requiring more of his time. He was content though, because that was his dream, that’s what he wanted to have since he was little; of course his dad disagreed and then he ran away from home. It was six years ago and since then Stiles hadn’t contacted him.

Alex realized Stiles had not mentioned anything about his mother and she didn’t ask. At least not yet, but she did made a mental note to find out about that little fact.

With a huff she threw away the covers and stood up from the bed. She glanced at the clock and it showed it was nearly four in the morning. There is a sigh escaping her lips while fingers rub angrily at her eyes.

She begins pacing around the tiny room, suddenly the atmosphere too hot. Bit of the conversation comes back to her while a face fills her mind. She looks out the small window to see a line of purple horizon where the sun warns its presence soon. The ocean looks calm, waving in a dizzy manner, so synchronized it’s almost unreal. A smile spreads her lips.

A knock brings her back to reality, her head snapping towards the door with a frown on her so deep that it almost brings her brows in one perfectly shaped pair of wings.

“Who is it?” she calls, trying hard to remember if she locked the door or not. You could never be too safe, even though the cruise contained the wealthiest people and perhaps had even more security than a high class bar.

“Stiles.”

Her eyebrows shot up so close to her hairline that they could disappear easily in the mass of curls. She checked the clock again in hopes her eyes did some sort of confusing reading, but when the numbers were the same, exception making just the last two numbers she made a face close to a grimace.

For some odd reason she began arranging the mess in the room, because – geek, then she thinks better of it and runs to open the door.

“Oh hi.” She smiles but drops it immediately at the eagerness in her voice and the look on Stiles face. “What do you want?” Alex barks then mentally cringes at the harsh tone.

Stiles, on the other side, was staring at Alex, with his mouth hanging opened, but his eyes were completely glued somewhere at her feet. She frowns and follows his gaze only to be met with a pair of bare legs. Of course she forgets to get dressed. Of course.

“Stiles.” She calls. No response.

“Stiles.” She repeats a note higher than before and when there is no sign of comprehension her eyes roll so hard that it almost hurt. Eventually, having enough of his childishness, her hand grabs his chin and lifts his head up, finally breaking the stare.

There is a blush spreading over his cheeks and neck at the realization and Alex smirks.

“My face is here Stiles.” Her hand drops to fold over the other one in front of her. “So let’s try again. What do you want?” he asks innocently, eyelashes fluttering slowly and Alex knows she plays it dirty but the boy needs to learn his lesson.

“I-um-nothing-I mean-“ he stutters and blushes like a two year old and Alex can barely contain the laughter.

“Yes?” she pushes and giggles when Stiles shakes his head and runs in his room.

“Atta boy.” she grins and closes the door.

She decides that there is no chance of sleeping until morning, so she grabs the books from her night stands and begins reading, once in a while laughing at the loud noises coming from Stiles room. Fate has an odd way of bringing the weirdest people in her life.

By the time she wakes up, in the truest sense of the word, and comes to her senses she finds herself sitting at the breakfast table; the world alive and buzzing around her – her friends, laughing and eating, gathered around her. Waking up is not an abrupt realization, on the contrary. It feels like a heavy fog slowly leaving a harbor – lifting and drifting over a city, over its peaks and hills ever so slowly. And just as it lifts the world, frozen in its spot under its think haze, gradually comes back to life. Everything slowly begins to move again.

She blinks slowly when sound begins to find register again, and a particularly loud chorus of laughter jostles her in her seat. She looks around and realizes with a startling thought that she has very little knowledge of how exactly she made it back to her room, let alone to the breakfast bar the following morning. And a part of her wishes she could blame alcohol this time around, but she knows that would be a lie. She barely touched the bottle, barely moved from her spot actually. She remembers him keeping her company though . For two straight hours he didn’t say a word, and didn’t ask she’d speak in return either – he was silent; eyes hollow and gone in their own world beside her. A silent pillar she could lean on.
It was this unconditional support that marked her, and sparked the numb sea of guild she found herself drowning in from the moment she left till the moment she woke up three hours later. The world had been a blur since then; either moving by too fast or too slow. Until now, when it all came screeching to a halt leaving her staring dumbly back at the pair of green eyes staring at her from across the table.

She blinks once – shocked and stricken, and Derek? Derek just smiles.

“What’s wrong with you?” she hears from her right and turns to see Alex, brow raised and glass of half-finished orange juice raised to her lips.

“Nothing.” She says curtly and turns to frown at her own plate, unaware of when she actually ordered it.

“I ordered it for you.” Alex says, and shrugs at the perplexed look Anne gives her “You seemed like you were too deep into your catatonic state to do it yourself.”

“Thank you.” Anne says earnestly, and idly picks at the eggs with no real intention of eating them.

“Are you ok?” Alex leans in and asks in a low tone.

“I … don’t know.” She says back truthfully. Voice small and eyes lost.

Alex frowns at Anne, staring a bit more before deciding that it was not the time, nor the place to dig more information out of her friend. She looked over to Lydia to find her having an equally deep frown on her face, eyes questioning. Alex shakes her head, returning to finishing her own plate. They barely went on this cruise and the whole atmosphere seems to grow thicker day by day. And there are still two more weeks to go. God help them all to get through it without any bloody events, because if by any chance, the four of them slips something around then…Alex shivers at the mere thought of it.

She empties the rest of the glass of orange juice and leans back on the couch, rubbing the stomach in small circles.

“That was good.” She says, smiling with eyes closed. “Wanna go for a swim? I heard we will stop over a coral reef to dive.” She elbows Anne who jumps in surprise.

“I…yeah.” She answers and it’s a bit off but again Alex lets it slip. She knows Anne will tell her eventually, so she doesn’t push it further.
“Great.” Alex grins before glancing around the loud table. “Who else is in?” she calls, several heads turning her way, except for one.

“What?” Allison asks, a hand wrapped around her fiance’s arm.

“Diving.” Alex replies in a flat voice.

“Oh yes!” she smiles. “Lydia?” she asks leaning back for a better view of Lydia, who was sitting between Aiden and Stiles.
Before the girl could reply Cora and Isaac both shot their hands up in the air, followed by Erica with a grin. The rest were reluctantly sharing looks.

“I don’t know, I kind of wanted to spend some time on the deck.” Scott smiles apologetically.

“Of course Scott, because until now you were swimming in the ocean so why not rest a bit.” Alex rolled her eyes and threw a piece of bread in his direction. Everyone laughed at that, even Anne seemed to smile a bit.
Stile was still staring at his plate as if the poor thing threatened him in a way that made Alex snort.

“What about you, hyperactive spasm?” Alex called, stretching over the table to poke Stiles arm with a fork. “You in for a splashy time?” she smiles innocently when he finally decides to give his plate a break and raise his eyes in her direction.

“Oh my, Stiles, what happened to you?” Lydia adds, placing a hand over his shoulder. “You look pale.”

The way Lydia talks with Stiles seems a bit too much, because the whole table goes silent, everyone sporting the same face; red, tears in their eyes, and mouth tight closed. – a clear sign of dying from the inside with laughter. Stiles seems to understand because he suddenly changes from pale to red, crosses his arms in front of him and sinks deeper in his seat. That brings everyone over the edge and the whole table turns into a chaotic laughter, even Derek, who kept glancing at Anne every now and then, had his attention drawn towards Stiles.

Apparently something happened between the two and because curiosity was always a flaw she could not keep in order, she leans closer to Anne. “Something happened with Derek?”

At that Anne shots a look, making Alex smug. “You are so telling me later.” She whispers, rising up and pointing a finger in her face. “You will.” She mouths and leaves the room to change.

“Oh right, so who’s coming?” she comes back, sticking her head in the room and there are four eager hands in the air. “Oh and you’re coming too.” She points a finger at Stiles who gapes and her before turning towards Scott for help. The boy just raises his shoulders and smiles apologetically.

“Perfect.” She grins, leaving the lounge room again.

“Not a fan of diving?” Scott’s voice chimes behind her and she smiles at the little bubbles on the surface of the water that the others are leaving behind – like a trail of breadcrumbs through the dark depths.
“No.” she answers simply. She doesn’t turn towards him when he settled over the railing besides her, eyes still cast on the diving instructor that’s giving safety lessons to group number five of daredevil socialites. A young woman yelps as she hits the water, the goggled on her head catching in her hair and making her splash around – apparently money can’t buy skills. “I don’t know.” Anne says, shaking her head and trying not to smile at the way the instructor seems to reach into some hidden well of strengths as he goes over the safety procedures for what might be the tenth time in the past thirty minutes. “I guess the idea of potentially inhaling water until I stop living isn’t all that appealing.” She adds, and Scott chuckles slightly.

A few minutes go by and a few more groups decide to take the proverbial plunge. After a while though any sense of organization breaks down, and the neat little order the instructors set out descends into a makeshift hodgepodge impromptu splash session. Their group of misfits surfaces in the middle of all of this chaos, and thought the initial shock of coming up for air in the middle of a warzone is visible on all of their faces, they all seem to recover fairly quickly.

“We’re under attack!” Stiles yells and begins splashing back madly, in every direction possible and hitting absolutely everyone.

“Stiles you fucking idiot, we’re on your –“ Derek tries to say, but a giant ripple of water hits him right in the face “ …side.” He finishes lamely, and Anne bursts out laughing.

While the idea of a perfect group activity seemed to have the best results in her head, the chaos that unleashed when they put in practice was far – very, very far from what Alex initially predict. It turned out Stiles, the fun leader he thought he was, was in fact, not so fond of this particular one. He splashed, panicked and in a matter of minutes everyone was swimming towards the boat in hopes of finding stable and safe surface.

Anne was holding her stomach, crying from laughter on the deck, together with Scott and Lydia.

Alex kept her head above water, arms moving in sync with her legs as she sent death glares to the three amused people in her group. Derek was rolling his eyes next to her, trying hard to calm Stiles.

“Are you going to come any time soon?” she shouts, trying to cover the pathetic screams that surrounded her.

“I think I will pass this one.” Anne replies, wiping her eyes. Lydia, after she barely calmed down, pulls the goggles over her eyes and with delicate moves she pats the instructor on the back, mumbling something before he smiles and moves aside to let her plunge into the water, exactly as instructed.

At least finally there is someone else who has an idea about how to proceed. When she resurfaces she swims towards the still flailing Stiles.

“Stiles, no one is attacking you idiot. Stop provoking everyone.” Lydia barks, hitting his head with her gloves hand.
The gesture made the screaming stop but by the complete terror look on his face, Alex realized that he was not even close to being ready for a dive.

“Excuse me sir, could you please take him on the deck before he makes something stupid and reckless like drowning?” Alex smiles sweetly at the instructor who just nods and prepares to throw a life buoy in Stiles direction. Alex swims near him to help since Derek decided that he’s not worth the trouble and started swimming towards the other divers.

“Here you are dear, we wouldn’t want this pretty face be lunch for the hundreds of Nemo’s out there now would we?” she smirks, grabbing the life buoy to push it in Stiles desperate hands. Stiles just stares at her with a frown, teeth chattering softly.

“F-fuck you!” he manages to say when Alex pushed away.

“Oh wouldn’t you like that.” She says in a smug voice before joining the others.

Diving was something she adored. The feeling of sinking, the pressure on her body made her feel more alive than anything else. She stood close to her group, each member having a blue band over their both arms as they dove deeper. The blueness of the ocean was breathtaking – endless water surrounding her, various colored fished swimming around them as a dance only they knew. It was another world, which Alex absolutely loved and enjoyed every time she had the chance. It felt as if she was thrown in a different world, which in all truth it was. The deepest part of the reef measured twenty meters and it had, according to the brochure, a chain of underwater caves.
Though the dive was not meant to reach so far, Alex could not stop the curiosity that hit her when she found out. She just wished they would have added it there.

She could spot Cora and Isaac hand in hand as they pointed at different corals, Erica chasing a stingray on the white bed of sand while Derek was swimming mindlessly around.

She recognizes several fishes which she takes pictures of; because of course she has an aquatic camera, when something pulls her foot. There is a moment of panic, where she mentally curses her inability of turning fast due to the mass of water. She manages to free her leg from the hold and swim further ahead and when she turns there is another diver in front of her. Alex takes couple off deep breath to oxygenate her brain while her eyes moves over the body and when she spots the blue bands on its arms she calms down and shows the finger, not caring who it is before she starts backing up, still facing the diver.

When it comes closer, she sees a very familiar face and almost laughs, if it wasn’t for the tube filling her mouth, so she settles for pushing Stiles shoulders with her free hand. He shakes his head and gives thumbs up in the same time as she brings the camera to snap a picture at him.


From there everything turns into a peaceful, enjoyable time - she takes pictures of everyone, has a big amount of perfect shots of the ocean life and her inner peacefulness charged at maximum. She didn’t realize just how badly she needed it until she resurfaced. Perhaps they were in the water a long time because the fatigue and dizziness hit her head on.

“Oh my god, that was perfect.” Alex smiles when the others finally took out the tubes from their mouth.

“Holy shit that was awesome!” Stiles grinned like an idiot at everyone who shook their heads at his enthusiasm.

“Idiot.” Alex and Derek both called as they made their way towards the boat where the instructor was waiting patiently.

The thing about expectations is that, more often than not, they vary greatly from reality. Anne has recently undertaken the crash course tutorial in this philosophy. She smiles dumbly at Alex, who dives and splashes around with the rest of then, and damn nearly still in her tracks when she realizes just how visible the bonds of this tentative friendship have gotten. There’s an ease that the rest of the group carries around her; a carefree wanton trust laced with caution. They accept her well enough to let their guard down around her, around them both. And she realizes, for the first time, that perhaps this isn’t quite the one way street she was expecting it to be.

Somewhere along the line they stopped being marks and started taking human shapes in her mind. And she is smart enough to realize a slippery slope when she sees one.

“You’re overthinking.” Scotts voice breaks her free from her thoughts, and she frowns feeing confusion at him. He simply smiles that dumbass smile at her, the one that always had Anne compare him to a Labrador crossed with a rainbow , then adds on a shrug: “ I know the look, let’s just leave it at that.” She nods slowly back at him, then looks back towards the group of divers that are currently being heard by the instructor back onto the lifeboats.

“Sometimes …” she trails and Scott hums like he can finish that sentence by heart.

“Yeah. But remember that going down that road isn’t doing anyone any favors. Least of all you. So whatever it is you’re stuck on, no matter how big it seems now… believe me, it really isn’t. “ she chuckles dryly at that – bot at the irony of the situation and the sting in those words, and just ends up nodding at him.

“Yeah.” She finally says, forcing a smile to reach her eyes and it occurs to her just how physically painful it is to do it without any impulse or desire too.

“Well you two seem chummy all of the sudden.” Derek’s voice chimes easily behind them, and Anne turns to be greeted by the sight of a dripping wet Hale. There’s a tug at the corner of his lips that doesn’t quite classify as a smile, his shoulders seem carry less weight with a towel draped across them . It’s not happiness she’s seeing, Anne realizes. But more of a mix. A stalemate between a nightmare and the sunshine breaching it – like the water bled the bad into the good and diluted its poison for just a little while longer.

“We’re always chummy!” Scott says, dropping a heavy arm on Anne’s shoulder, who simply lets out a little umf of discomfort and tried to burn a few holes into the side of Scotts skull courtesy with her eyes. And Derek, well … he frowns. And isn’t that surprising.

“Right.” He says, and breathes out what looks like a monumental amount of restraint, gripping the towel over his shoulders tighter; and involuntarily, Anne tilts her head a little and frowns in confusion back at him, trying to figure him out like a complicated jigsaw puzzle when another damn piece gets added to the pile – Derek smiles at her. It’s like a ray of fucking sunshine mixed with Christmas and a little bit of Easter, because it’s sudden and sweet and almost infuriatingly endearing – like he’s begrudgingly fond of her reaction, like he didn’t expect anything less.

“Anyway…” she says, and dislodges Scotts arms with a bit of an effort. “I’m going to grab a table at the restaurant before douche-mcdoucherson or whoever’s hot and big in hollywoord right now will grab the best one.”

“Save me a seat.” Derek adds matter of facty and Scott visibly freezes in his spot.

By the time she finished changing, the restaurant was already filled with people. When she finally set foot in the hall, there was no need for escort to her table because who would be the most obnoxious and wild table but the one where all her friends was gathered, of course, so she just waves the waiter away with a smile and an ‘I am fine’ and she heads their way. People were whispering, staring and pointing, commenting on how rude and in need of manners they are; and them? They were carefree, happy and shining, as if the whole world was eating rainbows and farting butterflies, their demons buried deep inside, locked and the key cast away.

So when she reaches the table, Alex just nods to everybody, flashing a brilliant grin and taking a seat in her usual place next to Anne, who turns and gives a smile to Alex. And Alex just stares, mouth open, brows so high it almost hurts, and that’s when she knows that her best friend is still there, covered with the façade Anne pulled all those years; the friend that gave that very same smile every time she had the chance, that girl who was delicate, kind, and opened; the girl that was not afraid to giggle to loud, or do stupid things, or was clumsy enough to rival Alex’s clumsiness; that girl Alex missed having, at least when they were only the two of them, in the confinement of their places, away from knowing eyes. But there was a time for everyone, and it’s not as if Alex doesn’t love the Anne from now; more so, she follows her up as an idol, respects and appreciates Anne in ways she hadn’t any idea she could, and will never forsake Anne just because of what she become, because there is a reason to everything, and perhaps Anne from now had always been a part of her, but Alex just never saw it.

Then Alex blushes, finally realizing she had been staring for far too long when Anne just raises a delicate, amused eyebrow and pushes a glass of green something towards her.

Alex eyes it suspiciously but wraps her fingers around the glass nevertheless, bringing it to her nose to sniff once.

Anne snorts. “Don’t worry. Is not poison.” She smirks and brings her own glass to take a sip.

“Wasn’t thinking it, but you remember that time when I put laxatives in your milkshake?” Alex takes a sip, lips pulling up in an evil smile.

“Oh fuck you.” Anne hisses, the words holding not one bit of anger but embarassment, and then Alex just can’t hold it anymore and starts laughing.

“Oh god I remember that night.” Lydia joins the conversation, followed by Allison and then Scott, each adding their own memories, from their point of view, secrets that were never told, funny incidents between the guys house and the girls house.
The meal was long forgotten, people started pointing and complaining, but not even one of them were bothered to care, far too seized in their own world, perhaps too relaxed, or even finally felt the freedom in a way they haven’t in the last years.

And Alex, as she smiles at something Cora and Isaac says, wonders is she is ready enough to break these people into pieces, crumble the little faith they still had in the world out there, or maybe the faith they develop day by day in them; she questions and answers, and adds advantages and disadvantages, she flips it over and over in her mind, the wheels turning and twisting in such way her head works up a very heavy headache.

“Hey you ok?” Anne whispers a second after Alex starts rubbing her forehead. Alex just nods and gives a reassuring smile.

“I think it’s the diving. The pressure was a bit too high.” She lies before placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing. “I’ll be right back.”
She can feel the look on her back literally and Alex lets out a shiver before she slips out the restaurant in favor of the cool breeze of the evening. She tries to clear the mind, rubbing circles on the temples, but the pounding keeps on under the tip of her index fingers.

“Jesus it’s been only few days.” She lets out a frustrating sigh, hands gripping the railing.

“For what?” the voice snaps Alex out of her daze.

He followed her, because of course he would. He’s just a kid after all.

The small downward pull of his eyebrows , the concerned and focused little stare, the tight seal of his lips. Even the tension in his shoulders. They all paint the picture of a concerned little child staring at a broken toy. There’s a part of Alex that wishes she wouldn’t find this as endearing as she does, wishes she could justify not laughing in his face and setting up more walls around herself.

“Since the boat left the harbor.” She says honestly and turns to face him “I didn’t think I’d miss home as much as I do.” She says right after, grabbing onto the railing behind her as she leans against it.

“You left something behind you can’t get of tour mind or what?” it’s not subtle, but then again she doesn’t think he’s quite clever enough yet to pull off subtlety, so she laughs once at it and smiled genuinely at him.

“Just my job.” She says back, and he nods stoically like some hidden incentive of truth was just revealed to the world.

“Must be a pretty cool job if you’re thinking about it even on your vacation.”
“I’m a photographer.” She admits and ignores the way his eyes widen slightly at her “My work comes with me. I’m always working. Hell …” she sighs and turns to face the ocean “I’m working right now.” He follows her and takes a spot next to her silently; eyes cast over the moving waves they move through and leave behind while he absentmindedly chews on his bottom lip obviously trying to find the right words before speaking again.

“What do you take pictures of?” he asks, carefully stepping on the eggshells she’s placed around herself , and she smiles back at the waters – eyeing him from the corner of her eyes.

“People.” He nods “Places.” He turns to look at her “Everything I think is beautiful.” She adds and pulls out her phone, snapping a picture of him before she can think anything better of it. He blinks dumbly back at her, silenced for the first time in over a week of knowing her and she smiled brightly back at him before turning on her heels and heading back towards the dining area. “Hurry up kid, your porridge will get all cold.” She teases and he brows back after her.

“Right behind you, ya old hag.”

She smiles. She knows she should be angry, throw a fit at the joke but instead she just smiles. And it’s warm, small, barely there. It’s so intimate it could be qualified as an embarrassing act for the world to see, and for a moment she is relieved that Stiles is behind her.

But just for a moment because as soon as she enters back, Lydia is looking at her with a raised eyebrow. She is the only one looking at them and Alex panics a little bit. Then, in a blink of an eye, Lydia is back to her conversation with Cora and Erica. And just like that Alex is left questioning the look on her friends face and a strong hope that is was just her imagination because that look? That look on Lydia’s face just screamed mischief.

Everything turns back to normal as soon as she takes a seat, the small exchange of words between her and Stiles long forgotten as everyone settles into taking idly to each other. Some eventually decides to retreat to their rooms, some drifts off right there; Stiles being one of them, and by the time she excuses for the ladies, there is no one in the restaurant but them, even the waiters decided to leave them be and end their shift with an apologize and the assurance there is no problem if they stay longer.
The corners of her mouth pulls yet again into a small smile. The familiar feeling of being part of something hits strong; she feels impossible comfortable around them, the time passes impossible fast in their presence.


“This is an impossible attachment I am having right now.” She exhales, gripping the edges of the sink, her knuckles getting white from the pressure. She meets with the reflection of a woman that spent too much time indoors; her skin is pale, though a healthy pale, her hair is wild as always, almost similar with a lion’s mane, the curls sticking in every way possible, despite the tight bun she pulled this afternoon.

She can even count on one hand the many times she ever glances in the mirror just to check her appearance. A laugh escapes her lips as she lowers her head and shakes it few times to clear her mind.

“I have a feeling you are getting a little bit….different?” The voice startles Alex and in her swift turn she hits the faucet to maximum, the water splotching on her hoodie and sweat pants, soaking her through.

“Fuck Lydia, why is everyone sneaking up on me lately.” She squeals, the curses never stopping as she fumbles with a towel in the pathetic attempt at drying up.

“Sneaking? I think entering a bathroom is barely considered sneaking.” Lydia chuckles and helps Alex with another towel. “Who else has been sneaking on you?” she asks, voice so innocent that Alex stops for a moment to throw a disbelieving look at Lydia.

“What do you want Lydia?” she asks, eyes glued on her friend while her hand starts brushing with the towel a spot that is definitely not wet.

“Me?” Lydia glances at Alex, hand on her chest, face keeping than innocence that is almost impossible to believe. “Except for the fact that I start worrying about my best friend, nothing of course.” She smiles, and is that smiles that says she is up to no good.
Alex keeps her eyes locked with Lydia as she folds her arms over her chest. They stay like this for a moment, challenging before Alex looses her patience.

“Whatever.” She bits back and goes to leave.

“What’s the deal with you and Stiles?” Lydia accuses and Alex stops dead in her track.

“What do you mean?” Alex turns slowly.

“You know what I mean Alex.” Lydia takes a step forward and folds her own arms as she leans against the counter, that voice so strong it almost makes Alex sink.

“Lydia.”

“Alex.”

“There is no deal with me and that brat, what the-“

“Don’t give me this, I know that look on your face.” The finger pointed at Alex makes the girl frown even deeper.

“The look…What look Lydia?” she questions confused.

“The look you have whenever you look at him. I know every single look a girl has Alex, and thrust me, your look is definitely that look.” Lydia smirks, chin rising just a bit.

“Lydia, are you drunk?” Alex laughs and takes a step forward, placing a hand on Lydia’s shoulder, her eyes searching for something unusual at her friend, because this is definitely and utterly confusing.

“You like him don’t you? You are falling for him?” Lydia smiles knowingly and Alex eyes widen at her words. That was unexpected.

“W-what? Lydia what did you take, seriously, you are worrying me.” Her hands grabs Lydia’s face, turning is from left to right.

“Oh my god, you are an idiot.” Alex hands are slapped away. “I’m fine for god’s sake.”

“Ok. Ok.” Alex backs off, hand on her chest as she lets out a long breath. “I don’t know what you are talking about, I mean me falling for that idiot?” she laughs a bit. “He is annoying, frustrating, he doesn’t know how to behave, and clearly he doesn’t respect women and let’s not mention she is like six years younger than me.” She looks at Lydia who refrain a smile and that alone angers her even more. “Lydia look.” Alex pinches the bridge of her nose. “I can assure you that there is no ‘deal’ between me and the idiot. Now let’s forget about this conversation because it won’t turn out good.”

“Right. Ok, I’m sorry.” Lydia smiles before she hugs Alex. “We should go back before they turn the place apart.” She laughs and takes Alex hand in her own, leading the way back.

It starts out as a pleasant night as any. They gather, they sit, a few glasses get emptied and filled. The room bursts of people one minute and then voids of them around the next. They stay way past closing, waving off any weightier that comes to them with perhaps a pleading look and an exasperated sigh. It’s fine, they all say – just bring us a few bottles we can mend for ourselves. It’s  nothing anyone would raise a brow or frown at; just a group of friends enjoying each other’s company.. It feels normal. It feels welcoming and warm. It feels comfortable.  And, perhaps foolishly, the staff leaves them be.

Laughter, stories, familiarity. It’s something Anne particularly doesn’t expect to be suckered into this easily. And it’s this reason primarily that makes her drop her guard long enough to be blindsided by it.

She feels safe.

Halfway through the night she is vaguely aware that Alex has her arm swung around her shoulder; laughing and retelling – perhaps a bit too loudly, a story that Anne is sure she should be at least cautiously embarrassed about. But she doesn’t care. Can’t find it in her too.

She drowns down another glass of a sweet tasting something, and turns to her left to find Derek laughing besides her. It’s such an open and relaxed laugh and for a second she leans into it – drawn to those stretched and shiny lips in such a magnetically powerful way that her brain stupidly supplies the phrase ‘Moth to a flame’. She stops, blinks dumbly back at the equally perplexed man and proceeds to burst out laughing .

“What is it?” he asks behind a smile, green eyes  shining under the chandelier light and chasing hers just enough to make her sober up just a little.

“Dude!" she says uncharacteristically easy with the term, "That was a close one." Anne says then, and only laughs harder when Dereks brows knit together "You were a flame, you see.” she adds drunkenly, laughing at herself? Everyone else? God only knows at this point. He’s laughing with her too, which she thinks is nice. Derek should laugh more often.

“Oh?” he says playfully as her giggled grow even louder, and she nods desperately behind laugh stained tears.

“Yes. The flame to my moth. “ she says, drawing in a winded laugh fueled breath “It’s ironic because …” because everything he loved burned in flames her minds supplies helpfully. And that’s all it takes. That’s enough. Her mind clears and defogs frighteningly fast, and unsurprisingly her laughter dies along with it.  “Yeah.” She says quieter, looking anywhere near the man at who’s tragedy she was ready to laugh at a few seconds prior. “The alcohol must be getting to me.” She says smiling and relaxes back into the comfortable weight of her friend beside her.