𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐈𝐗𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | ❝Ghosts are just rich people problems!❞
noun.
A complete obsession or absorption in a subject or hobby to a point where a person appears to completely tune out their surroundings.
•••
━━━━ WHEN HIGH SCHOOL student Noah...
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Oh, where do we begin?
It started with a dead body. That's how the police would have worked it out. A corpse in the Beacon Hills preserve that was off-limits to its residents. The only fact that threw them off was that the killer wasn't human, so where did it come from? More importantly, what was it doing there?
Scratch that—let's go deeper. It started with a goofball, Stiles, dragging his best friend Scott into the woods at two in the morning to see half of a corpse. Which half? That little tidbit of information was unknown.
If you were to ask them, "Something severed a body in half, that part you do know for sure, and you're gonna go out into these woods...to search for it?"
With zero doubt, Stiles would reply, "Yes. Yes, we are." And that's concerned Scott.
And, unfortunately, Noah Elodie was there too, doing exactly the same thing. Expect she was alone. Or she thought she was alone, considering she believed no one was stupid enough to voluntarily examine a corpse in the middle of the woods for sport. But then the boys smelled Noah's lavender-scented shampoo from afar and heard the crackling of leaves that boomed like fireworks in the dead of night.
"Are you sure we're doing this?" Scott whispered to his friend.
Stiles perked up at the sound and pointed the flashlight in the direction of the noise. "Does Bigfoot usually stalk the Beacon Hills preserve?" the boy with the buzzcut whispered to his friend next to him. His nostrils were suddenly pervaded with a flower-like scent. "I don't remember any witnesses describing it as smelling like flowers."
"There is no such thing as Bigfoot, and of course Bigfoot doesn't smell like flowers!" the tanned boy growled at his friend beside him.
Noah heard them coming, saw their flashlights, but pretended not to notice. She had an idea about how this might go down: they'd tell her to leave, she'd say no; she'd hit or kick them, maybe scream some more; they'd get mad, she'd run away—or possibly try to fight. Either way, it wouldn't be a good scene.
"Comforting to know you've planned this out with your usual attention to detail." Sprinting up the path, the tanned boy's breath began to shorten. "Maybe the severe asthmatic should be the one holding the flashlight."
Buzzcut's oddly pale, Noah suddenly thought. Why am I focusing on that? Pay attention, Noah!
Stiles slowed, but not because of Scott. Outside a clearing, yellow police tape marked off a perimeter under a dozen floodlights. Grinning, Stiles looks to Scott who can't help but smile back.
