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STAYING WITH THE STILINSKI'S was not what Eden had on her agenda when she originally came back to Beacon Hills. In fact, none of what she had been doing, was planned. Eden Hecate returned to the town that she once called home, thinking Derek needed help with something small, and then she would be on her way. The heretic never imagined she would be walking inside the cluttered house alongside Stiles Stilinski, carrying all four of her bags because she had far too many clothes. Yet, there she was.
"Home sweet home," Stiles said as he gestured his arms out to the house. Eden sighed and set down her bags on the floor.
"I still can't believe I got roped into this," she muttered, rubbing her forehead with her hand as she glanced around. Stiles stood awkwardly, digging his hands into the front pockets of his jeans as he watched her inspect his home. He was nervous, to say the least. The girl he was slowly getting infatuated with, was standing in his home, with the intention of living there— with him. It was a strange sight to see.
Picture frames were hanging from the walls and placed neatly on all the flat surfaces, and at closer glance, Eden noticed a woman she didn't recognize in most of the photographs.
"Is that your mother?" Eden asked, letting her curiosity get the best of her as she picked up a picture of Stiles being carried by the woman she suspected was his mother. With her back facing him, Eden failed to notice the way the buzzcut boy stiffened at the mention of his mom.
"Uh, yeah," he answered, stepping forward so he was now standing beside her as she looked down at the picture. It was the one that had been taken before his first day of grade one. He smiled as he reminisced on the memory.
"She's very beautiful. You have the same eyes," Eden commented before setting down the picture. Stiles smiled at the compliment.
"Yeah, she was."
"I don't have many photos of my family and I. They all burned in the fire. Except this one. I keep it on me at all times," the heretic spoke softly as she pulled out the picture. It was evidently an old one; the corners were torn, and it was wrinkled. But the smiling faces on it were beautiful nonetheless.
A girl with long curly hair stood in the middle of an older woman and man, while a boy almost identical to the girl sat on a small, wooden chair beside her. They all wore matching smiles, yet their eyes told a different story. Behind them, Stiles noticed the look of pain in all their eyes. It was clear they had all been through battles, facing demons that no one could see. Yet, in their eyes, he could see the stories of loss and victory.
